The video recorder was a Panasonic that the guy had picked up from the second-hand market in the shipyard area. When I got to my uncle’s room, that guy was busy installing it. I noticed there were two identical spare units on the sofa, probably in case one broke down and wasted time. Fortunately, the quality of imported goods from that era was pretty good; all three units worked fine after testing. I picked up one of the spares, which felt heavy and solid. Things from that time were really reliable, unlike today’s DVDs, which you could toss around like frisbees.

During the installation of the video recorder, my uncle didn’t say a word. He just let me sit there while he chain-smoked, lost in his own thoughts. My hangover headache was gradually improving, but I felt a bit anxious, with all sorts of wild guesses swirling in my mind about what the tape might contain. I thought of the Xisha Islands, but they couldn’t have brought video equipment when they went there (back then, such equipment was quite precious; in the country, people were still using film cameras, and those were manual). So the content on the tape definitely wasn’t filmed in Xisha at that time. Similarly, it couldn’t be footage from behind the Bronze Gate. With those two places ruled out, what could be on the tape? I was truly at a loss.

Once the television and video recorder were connected and the power was turned on, I picked one of the tapes, ready to insert it. However, just before I put it into the recorder, I hesitated, feeling inexplicably nervous, and glanced at my uncle.

He waved his hand at me and said, “Just put it in. What are you looking at me for? Are you afraid it’s going to jump out of the TV?”

That’s when I finally pushed it in. The recorder started with a click, and I sat back on the bed. Soon, the screen was filled with static. My uncle stopped smoking and tossed the cigarette butt into the spittoon. The three of us, including his assistant, sat up a bit more nervously.

The static lasted for about ten seconds before the screen finally displayed an image. The TV was in color, but the picture was black and white, likely due to the tape itself. Initially, the image was quite blurry, but it gradually came into focus.

It was a room with an old wooden structure. We could see a wooden floor, and the camera was shaking a lot, indicating that the person or object holding it wasn’t very stable. There was a window on the back wall, and outside it looked blurry, suggesting it was daytime and somewhat backlit.

My uncle and I exchanged glances. It seemed to be footage of a residential setting, which was unexpected. Could it be a self-recorded show? Perhaps a character would come out, eating noodles, and say something like, “Long time no see! How have you all been?”

Below the window, there was an old-fashioned writing desk that looked like it belonged in a revolutionary movie. It was cluttered with papers, a desk lamp, and a telephone.

The phone was somewhat outdated but not to the point of being ancient. The recording must have been made sometime after the 1990s, though many families still use such old-style phones today, making it hard to pinpoint exactly when it was filmed. But it definitely couldn’t have been earlier than the 1990s.

The scene then remained fixed on the interior of the room, almost like a still-life depiction. After waiting for a while, we realized that the camera was stationary, similar to a fixed shot in a movie, and it wouldn’t move. In this case, we had no idea how long this still image would last, and we couldn’t just stare blankly at it. So, my uncle pressed the fast-forward button. After about twenty minutes, suddenly, a black shadow flashed across the room.

Both my uncle and I were startled.

My uncle quickly rewound and slowed it down. It turned out that a person had walked into the frame from outside the camera’s view. We could hear the sound of a door opening and closing, indicating that someone had returned from outside. Upon closer inspection, the person who walked in was a woman. It was hard to discern her age, but vaguely, she seemed to have some charm and was tied back in a ponytail.

My uncle suddenly became tense and walked closer, almost pressing his face against the TV screen. However, the woman moved quickly, darting across the screen and disappearing off the other side.

I noticed my uncle’s expression suddenly changed, and I wanted to ask him what was going on, but he waved his hand at me, signaling me to be quiet.

Time continued to pass, and five minutes later, the woman appeared on the screen again, now wearing pajamas. She walked straight up to the screen, causing it to shake as the camera angle adjusted. This was equivalent to a close-up, and the woman’s face was now directly in front of the television. I saw that she was quite young, with a gentle appearance and large eyes; overall, she looked like a sweet girl.

My uncle was also leaning close to the TV, and suddenly he locked eyes with the girl on the screen. To my surprise, in an instant, my uncle froze for a moment, then suddenly shook all over and let out a loud scream as he staggered back a dozen steps, nearly knocking the TV off the cabinet.

His partner quickly steadied the TV, and I rushed to help him. I saw my uncle pointing at the face on the screen, trembling and shouting, “It’s her! Huo Ling! It’s Huo Ling!”

We were all taken aback by my uncle’s sudden reaction. His partner hurriedly left the TV to support him, while I adjusted the TV to prevent it from falling and getting damaged. However, his partner couldn’t hold him up at all; my uncle kept shouting as he backed away, crashing into the sofa, nearly tipping it over, and he slipped and fell to the ground. It was clear that he had hurt himself badly; he clutched his lower back, his face turning pale. Nevertheless, his eyes remained fixed on the TV screen, his eyeballs nearly popping out.

Now I was a bit surprised too. This woman was actually Huo Ling?

According to the account from the sealed bottle, Huo Ling was the child of a cadre and was one of several people who descended into the underwater tomb during the West Sand archaeological expedition. There is very little information about her, and I didn’t know which one she was in that black-and-white group photo, so I naturally couldn’t recognize her. It was truly incredible that someone like her would appear in the video tape sent by the sealed bottle…

Moreover, what feels strange to me is, where did this videotape come from? From the way she adjusts the camera, it’s obvious that she knows about the existence of the recorder; this isn’t how one would take a selfie. This should be a form of spontaneous surveillance; it is undoubtedly a surveillance video. Why did she film such a video, and how did this tape end up in the hands of the muted bottle? Why did the muted bottle send this tape to me?

Things are getting interesting, I thought to myself. My third uncle was right; it seems that the whole matter is far from over.

At this moment, the woman on the screen had already adjusted the camera, and the screen was no longer shaking. She moved away from the lens and sat back at the writing desk, propping up a mirror to comb her hair. Because it was in black and white, combined with the previous shaking, the image on the screen became a bit blurry.

My third uncle gradually calmed down, but his face was already ashen, and his demeanor was completely different from before. He was gripping the armrest of the sofa tightly, his whole body trembling slightly, clearly very tense.

To confirm, I asked my third uncle, “Is this woman the same as the one who went down to the sea floor with you, Huo Ling?”

My third uncle showed no reaction. I had no choice but to exchange glances with his partner, who also didn’t know what to say.

In the video, Huo Ling kept combing her hair. After her ponytail came undone, her hair was quite long. I didn’t know to what extent she intended to comb it. After about twenty minutes, she finally stopped and re-tied her ponytail.

After finishing her hair, she stood up, looked a bit dazed out the window, then suddenly dashed off to a place not visible to the camera, and then ran back. However, when she returned, I noticed that her clothes had actually changed.

In other words, she had gone into another room and changed her outfit.

Then, an unbelievable scene unfolded before me.

After she came out, she ran back to the camera, seemingly dissatisfied with the angle, and adjusted the lens again. The screen began to shake, and her pale face filled the entire screen.

My third uncle let out a strange groan, as if her face was terrifying.

I thought she was changing clothes to go out or to cook, and that we wouldn’t see her for a long time. So, I picked up the remote control, ready to fast-forward. At that moment, however, I saw her sit back down at the writing desk, pick up the comb, undo her hair tie, and start combing her hair again!

“This woman is crazy!” one of the partners couldn’t help but exclaim.

My third uncle immediately gestured for him to be quiet, his brow furrowing tightly.

She was facing away from us while combing her hair, so we couldn’t see her expression. In the mirror, there was only a blurry shadow, and her movements seemed almost identical, with a consistent rhythm. As I watched, I started to doubt whether her head was made of iron; if I were to comb it like that, my head would have turned into a walnut by now.

This scene made the atmosphere feel a bit eerie. I endured it, and after about another twenty minutes, she finally re-tied her hair, stood up, and dashed out of the camera’s view.

Both my partner and I sighed in relief, thinking that it was finally over. If she kept combing her hair, my own head would start to hurt.

However, before we could stretch our limbs, she came out again in a different outfit, approached the camera, and began adjusting the angle for the third time.

I was completely confused, like a monk who couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. What on earth is this Huo Ling doing? It’s just too exaggerated. Does she really enjoy this… or is she planning to commit suicide? Is that why she’s so tirelessly changing clothes and adjusting her angles? And now, is she going to comb her hair again? At this rate, the comb is going to wear down to a bristle brush.

Just then, the scene suddenly froze. When I turned to look, I realized my uncle had pressed pause. On the black-and-white screen, that close-up of her face was abruptly frozen in time. My uncle’s face was pale, and his lips were slightly trembling. He leaned in for a closer look and said in a hoarse voice, “Heavens, she hasn’t aged at all!”