The man had his back to Dr. Ebert, and his face could not be seen clearly. He was only seen wearing a coarse cloth robe, with gray hair draped over his shoulders, as if blending in with the surrounding trees. The soft light shone through the gaps between the leaves, casting mottled light and shadows on him, making him look even more mysterious.
He sat cross-legged on a flat stone, and flexibly fiddled with the object in front of him with his hands, making a crisp and pleasant sound. The sound was sometimes high-pitched and passionate, sometimes low and gentle, and sometimes like crying, as if telling an ancient and mysterious story.
Dr. Ebert's curiosity was aroused, and he walked forward cautiously, wanting to see clearly what kind of instrument it was that could make such a beautiful sound.
When he got closer, Dr. Ebert was stunned.
It was not a musical instrument, but a strange device.
It was made of various materials such as metal, wood, and crystal, with a complex structure and a strange shape. It was also engraved with some symbols and patterns that Dr. Ebert had never seen before. These symbols and patterns, with smooth lines and simple shapes, exude an indescribable mysterious atmosphere, as if they were the codes of civilization from ancient times, waiting for people to crack.
Deep in Dr. Ebert's heart, there suddenly surged an inexplicable sense of familiarity and intimacy, as if he had seen these symbols and patterns somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. He couldn't help but reach out his hand, wanting to touch the strange device, wanting to untie the inexplicable throbbing in his heart.
"What are you doing?"
An old voice suddenly sounded in Dr. Ebert's ears, startling him.
Dr. Ebert turned around abruptly, only to find that the old man had stood behind him at some point.
It was an old man, his face full of traces of time, as deep and clear as a knife and an axe. His skin was dark and rough, as if he had experienced countless wind and rain baptisms; his eyes were still clear and bright, like stars, flashing with wisdom.
He was wearing a simple coarse cloth robe, a straw rope tied around his waist, a pair of straw sandals on his feet, and no ornaments on his body. He looked simple and natural, as if he was integrated with the surrounding forest.
"Who... who are you?" Dr. Ebert asked in surprise, his voice was a little hoarse, I don't know if it was because he hadn't spoken for a long time, or because the scene in front of him was too shocking.
The old man didn't answer, he just looked at Dr. Ebert quietly, his eyes were deep, as if he could see through his heart and see the secrets hidden in the depths of his soul.
Dr. Ebert felt a little uncomfortable when he was looked at by him, he asked again: "Excuse me, where is this place? How did I get here?"
The old man still didn't answer, he slowly walked to Dr. Ebert, stretched out his right hand, and gently stroked the statue in Dr. Ebert's hand.
That hand, dry and rough, like old bark, but with a strange temperature, made Dr. Ebert feel an inexplicable warmth and peace of mind.
"You... know it?" Dr. Ebert asked in surprise.
The old man nodded, and then said a sentence in an ancient and mysterious language.
Although Dr. Ebert didn't understand his language, he felt that the words were full of sadness and helplessness, as if telling an ancient and sad story.
After the old man finished speaking, he turned and left, disappearing into the dense forest, leaving Dr. Ebert alone, standing there, full of doubts and uneasiness.