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“What was that sound?”
The calico cat turned her head, looking around the cave thoroughly, and finally set her gaze on the Daoist. For the first time in nearly half a day, she spoke up on her own initiative.
Her voice was still soft and delicate.
Outside the cave, the thunder gradually faded. Within the cave, the echoes of thunder also began to die down. The many different languages and whispers became more and more faint, increasingly muddled and indistinct, until they could barely be heard at all.
“...”
Only then did Song You withdraw his gaze. He lowered his head slightly and met the cat’s eyes, shining with firelight, and replied gently, “They were just voices from the past.”
“Whose voices?”
There was less wariness in the cat’s tone now, and more confusion.
“People from long ago,” Song You finally took a bite of his flatbread. “People like us, who once came to climb this mountain and once took shelter in this very cave.”
“Where are they now?”
“In the past.”
“The past?” The cat looked serious, tilting her head slightly, glancing left and right. “Then where did the voices come from?”
“From this cave,” Song You answered patiently. “Some places in the world have strange abilities. If there’s a thunderstorm, they can somehow record the sounds, even images, from that time. And when the next storm comes, they might replay them. If someone happens to be there at that moment, they can experience a conversation across time...
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