At this moment, the胖子 (Fatty) nudged me, urging me to look at 闷油瓶 (the Silent Bottle). I turned to see that he was still silent, carefully touching the books, but his expression seemed to show some confusion.

“Did something come to mind?” I asked, sensing a shift in my heart. He ignored me, opening his mouth as if to speak but then hesitating, his brow furrowing even tighter.

I thought to myself: Could there be a clue? Not daring to disturb him, I quietly watched from behind. I saw him tilt his head and circle the room, suddenly saying, “Something feels off.”

“What’s off?” Fatty asked, puzzled.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly using all his energy to recall something: “No, this room just feels wrong to me.”

“Isn’t this your room?”

He shook his head, and suddenly his gaze fixated on the bed. He immediately squatted down to look under it.

I also crouched down, and it was pitch black beneath the bed. 闷油瓶 turned back, and Fatty, being very perceptive, quickly handed him a lighter. He lit it and reached under the bed.

There was nothing down there, only a lot of cobwebs. But he was not discouraged; he crawled further in and began to feel around the gaps in the wooden floor. Suddenly, I saw him hook his finger and actually grab a piece of floorboard, prying it up. 闷油瓶 had incredible strength, and we heard a terrifying cracking sound as he ripped off a section of the wooden floor. He tossed the piece aside and continued to pry, his movements almost frenzied.

Fatty and I were both exhausted and momentarily unsure of what to do. Fatty shouted, “Hey, even if it’s wrong, you don’t have to tear apart the house!”

But it was no use. By the time we realized what was happening, 闷油瓶 had already pried a large hole in the floor beneath the bed. At that moment, I suddenly realized something; I saw him reach into the hole and pull out a black metal box, dragging it out with force.

Damn, so that’s how it is! I felt a rush of excitement and quickly crawled over. I noticed that beneath the wooden floor, there was actually a compartment, clearly a carefully designed hidden space.

It seemed we had found the key, I thought, and immediately helped 闷油瓶 pull the box, straining to get it out. The box was incredibly heavy; pulling it out made me break into a sweat. Fatty helped us lift the box onto the bed.

“Wow, what is this?” Fatty exclaimed, “It’s so heavy, could it be your secret stash?”

“Impossible,” I said, brushing off the dust and examining it closely.

It was a large black metal box, about 1 meter by 0.5 meters, seemingly large enough to fit a person inside. It was covered in rusted patterns, suggesting it was quite old. “It looks like something from a former landlord’s home; it might even be an antique,” I noted, looking at the old-fashioned twist lock. This box could be from the Republic of China era, likely used by a wealthy family to store clothes, or perhaps a theater for costumes.

闷油瓶 crawled out, panting. We looked at him, asking, “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze blank and somewhat bewildered.

It seems he only recalled some fragments, but the fact that he remembered this matter indicates that he had hidden the box himself, suggesting that it contains something quite important. It might even hold clues about his background. We were all very excited. I said to the胖子, “Hurry up and open it to take a look.” The胖子 immediately went to twist the lock on the box, but before he could do anything, the dull oil bottle pressed down on the lid with one hand and shouted, “Absolutely do not open it!”