The Invisible Man

The pottery shard Fortuneteller Baba had sent sat on a shelf in the tool shed overnight. The next morning, when Lin Chen entered the shed, the early light slanted in through the high window and fell across its surface. He picked up the new shard and compared it with the fragments he had previously fitted together. Their colors were indeed different: the shards excavated from the outpost were pale gray, while the one Fortuneteller Baba had sent was dark brown. Yet at the broken edges, the direction of their grain was similar. Pinching the edges between his fingers, he brought the two shards close and tried to fit them together.

Their outlines did not match perfectly. A narrow gap remained between the edges, and its width was even. It did not look like it had been caused by a break, but more like a seam between them—different pieces that had come off the same vessel.

[ Ding! Pottery shard connection confirmed. Ancient cultural knowledge: 6%. ]

A brief warmth spread from his fingertips to the edge of his palm before fading. He placed the two shards side by side on the shelf, keeping them in the position where they had just been fitted together, then walked out of the tool shed. Krillin was sorting ropes in the yard. When he saw Lin Chen come out, he asked, "Did they match up?"

"The grain runs in the same direction, but the edges do not fit perfectly. They may have been made in the same batch, or they may be different parts of the same vessel, but they were not directly connected," Lin Chen said.

Krillin thought for a moment. "Then Fortuneteller Baba was right. They're from the same period."

The usual morning training went on as normal: running, swimming, and carrying stones. After completing his final set, Lin Chen returned to the tool shed. He picked up the larger shard, turned it over in his hand, and adjusted the angle. Along its lower edge was a faint indentation—not caused by breakage, but something left during its making. It might have been the imprint of a tool, or perhaps a mark. It was very close in both position and depth to an indentation near the edge of the shard Fortuneteller Baba had sent.

He held the two shards side by side in his palm for comparison. The positions of the indentations truly lined up—as though they were two adjacent marks on the same vessel. He set down the shards, took the wooden box from the shelf, and examined it. A line of writing was carved into the inside of the lid, the tiny characters near the hinge. The strokes were shallow, as if someone had worn them down after carving them. They could be seen under the light, but were not as clear as freshly cut lines. He turned the wooden box over and checked the bottom as well. There were no marks there.

After lunch, Lin Chen took the two pottery shards to the fighting arena. Fortuneteller Baba sat in her usual spot. When she saw him enter, her gaze first fell on the shards in his hand. "You came faster than I expected." Her voice carried that dry note of amusement.

Lin Chen placed the two shards on the low table before her. "The edge patterns match, and the indentations line up too. They should have come from the same vessel."

Fortuneteller Baba lowered her head to look for a while but did not reach out to touch them. "This vessel may once have held something rather uncommon. The person who acquired it did not know where it came from. They merely found it interesting and kept it." She raised her head. "You have the map, and you have assembled part of the pottery shards. If you find a few more, you should be able to put it back together completely."

Lin Chen put the shards away. "Any other clues?"

Fortuneteller Baba thought for a moment. "Do you still have that stone tablet?"

"I do."

"The carvings on that tablet are the same as the pattern on the bottom of the vessel. They may have been made by the same group of people."

By the time Lin Chen returned to Kame House, the sun had already begun to sink westward. He put the two shards back on the shelf, then picked up the stone tablet and examined the pattern on its underside in the light from the window. The direction of its grain was indeed similar to that on the bottom of the pottery shards, as if they had come from the same production process. He set down the stone tablet and walked out of the tool shed.

Master Roshi was sitting beneath the porch eaves in the yard, holding a palm-leaf fan. Its edges were worn down, with several bamboo ribs exposed. Seeing Lin Chen emerge, he asked, "What did Fortuneteller Baba say?"

"The pottery shards really are from the same vessel, and the pattern on the underside of the stone tablet is similar to theirs too."

Master Roshi nodded. "Then the map, the pottery shards, and the stone tablet may all point to the same place. But that place is not in the desert—it lies deeper within it. It is still too early to go now."

Lin Chen stood by the porch for a while, looking out at the distant sea. There was no one on the water, only a few seabirds circling low overhead, their wings nearly transparent in the backlight. He returned to the tool shed and slightly adjusted the positions of the stone tablet and pottery shards, aligning them on the same level. The sky beyond the high window had grown completely dark, and his own face reflected in the glass. From afar, he heard a short whistle, as though it had come from the sea—or perhaps it was merely an echo scattered by the wind. But it quickly vanished and did not sound again.