What was the difference between the world captured by a camera and the world seen through the eyes? If the body of flesh and blood was treated as a dark box imprisoning the soul, perhaps there was no difference at all.
After looking through the photographs in the sixth row, Gao Ming was left with one question he could not answer: who exactly had been taking pictures of Li Sansi?
Every photograph in the sixth row had been taken by someone else. Someone had followed Li Sansi into the Underground Water Network. Who was that person?
His kidnapped younger brother? His aunt with a hereditary mental illness? His adoptive father, who had worked as a plumber? Or had Li Sansi set up the camera beforehand and taken the photographs from fixed positions himself?
"Maybe I should go take a look at the Underground Water Network."
Gao Ming took a deep breath, but his chest still felt tight. Every part of him resisted staying in this room. His gaze shifted to the very top of the wall—the seventh row, where the final photograph hung.
The lens seemed to have reached into the Deep Pool where the entire city's sewage collected. All the city's filth and grime settled here. It was pitch-black, beyond the reach of any light.
After putting away all the photographs, Gao Ming searched the darkroom again. He tapped every tile and felt every patch of plaster, not even leaving the ceiling unchecked, but he still could not find the most crucial thing—Li Sansi's camera.
"Did he leave that camera in the Underground Water Network? Did he only bring out the film?"
The Li Sansi in the photographs and the Li Sansi whose memories Gao Ming had absorbed were two entirely different people. He could sense some of Li