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墨書 Inktalez
The continuous expanse of cloud wings floats on the water's surface, and windmills turn loudly in the foreground. Looking down from above, it's like a clear mirror in front, extremely quiet yet also causing a hint of panic. I dream that the wings that must be together. Summer.
Falling into the water, feeling the coolness of summer for the first time. Countless floating flowers stare in front of me like colorful fruits, so tempting. Like the purple flowers of a sea star, forever like a sunflower. Seeing her for the first time, my first reaction was the white flower of the "lotus." I also suddenly remembered many wonderful things, but I couldn't stop the sadness in my heart. The suffocating bubbles of breath dispersed, and I could see the tree leaves above more clearly, like the fallen maple leaves on the early phone desktop. If I were to die like this, it wouldn't be so bad. Ignoring the pain of water filling my ears, I could see my soul looking at my own face. I remembered the summer of The Great Purge, and I also escaped in this way.
It's so ridiculous to think about. When crossing a cliff, I stumbled and fainted, falling down the cliff due to the crowded people. Luckily, there was a waterfall below, and apart from the pain from being soaked, there was no other discomfort. I could still hear the soldiers shouting from above the roaring waterfall, as if thousands of troops were attacking from all sides, which was really terrifying. I hid in a cave behind the waterfall until the next time the flowers bloomed.
There is a house on the mountain, and a wonderful and extraordinary woman. She wears plain clothes in the moonlight, playing the flute while holding the waterfall ink.
She doesn't seem like an ordinary person.
Even if one cannot distinguish a good piece of music, the free and unrestrained sound of the Qiang flute is enough to captivate the soul. The cold on my body is gradually ignored, I want to listen to that piece until it rings in my ears, seeping into my soul. Finally, the woman turned around, not surprised. She beckoned me to go into the house.
The blue bamboo house, with a faint scent drifting from the mountain stream. A few leaves float in the cup. The tea she brewed for me is light and sweet, with the fragrance of grass, wood, and flowers. The woman doesn't speak, but just looking into each other's eyes feels like a thousand words. Going into the inner room, closing the door, I can't see anything In the midst of fate, but I feel a stir. On a bamboo tray, there is green silk and ink rain. I am surprised that this hidden immortal understands the worldly ways of hospitality, but then I forget that such an immortal would also understand the ways of mortals.
In this world, even though my body is still damp, I feel muddled. My lips move, but it feels like cutting my throat with grass, wood, and bamboo leaves.
The woman across from me burst into a wild, unrestrained laughter. She pointed at me as if to say something, but couldn't stop laughing. The floating breath also suddenly rushed into my body, and the chilling sensation of coagulated blood arose.
Puff!
Gasping for breath, water choked my nostrils. As I stood up, the surroundings were already in a mess, with bodies falling from above, staining the water.
I am still at the place where I fell into the water earlier. Beyond the waterfall, there are only remnants of a broken thatched wall. There is indeed a white garment, and several blades of grass, as tall as a person, cut through the area like swords piercing the body, but it is merely a patch of mugwort.
Alas, everyone has their own path, let alone an immortal. The immortal saved me; I have no way to repay this life-saving grace. I wish to offer incense in gratitude, but I have no means to build a temple.
"Do you believe in immortals?"
On the way home, asking oneself this question is really boring.
"But then how do you explain it, a dream?"
It's been years since we parted ways.
"But can anyone interpret dreams?"
Such a dull and uninteresting conclusion.
Heading down the mountain.
Crossing the stone bridge, the familiar sound of hammering draws near. The mad mechanic is busy crafting another arm for himself. I told him to do it before I left, and now he's finally willing to make the change.
"Hey, Ironman."
He looked up at me, a fleeting look of puzzlement in his only eye.
"You actually came back alive."
He lowered his head and continued to work on his arm, which seemed to be taking shape.
"It's just a temporary chaos, it will pass eventually."
"After all, they are just civilians."
They can hardly be called a regular army, with no discipline other than following orders.
"Are we going for a drink tonight to celebrate our narrow escape?"
"It was you who almost died, not me."
"We have to go through the depths of despair to experience rebirth."
"If you pay the bill, I'll come." The signboard with this slogan was temporarily used as a counter by the landlady. The words "The Great Purge" can still be vaguely seen. The Great Purge.....
Oh, taking this kind of name, are we some kind of dirty thing?
Maybe in the eyes of those people.
Too bad I don't care.
"What would you like, wine or motor oil?" the landlady joked. No one knows how Ironman lost his other arm, but since I've known him, it's been replaced with different mechanical parts.
"You should go buy our friend a bottle of juice, preferably mixed with some sweet milk, to celebrate his miraculous survival."
Everyone knows I don't drink, I think it's really hard to swallow.
Hahahahaha....
She ordered the waiter to leave, and we all laughed again.
"This is already the third time this month," the landlady sighed, changing the subject after taking a sip. "Life is getting harder and harder."
Saying such things really makes people silent.
"There will be changes."
Ironman He spoke in his usual calm and even numb voice, just like the hammer that had been with him for decades.
"There have been changes, so many changes in just a few months."
The landlady kept sighing, and the heavy reality they were discussing made me feel as if the mountain scene had become a distant and fleeting dream.
Too far away...
My juice still hasn't arrived.
"You are like dizzy glazed colors
You are like burnt glaze
You have an irregular bottle mouth
You are the hook head of the bottle."
Uploading discordant lyrics to the stage. The girl and younger people ignore the brutal reality, embracing a dream that consumes them more and more. They forgot about the pain of life, death, and dreams, and I don't resist, but it's hard to understand like they do. Everyone lives under the same sky, but they can forget their suffering.
But in fact, no one is happy, except for those who get drunk, or else when they wake up, it will be even harder.
The remaining wires still perform their duties, and neon lights shine brightly.
"They made a mess here and then left without doing anything, I really don't understand!"
"Yeah, maybe if they came to drink, this place would still be a safe house."
The dark room flashed with light, making it look like night, even though it was daytime outside.
But whether it's really night doesn't matter, after all, people live by their feelings. I'll go check on the old man at the store, maybe I can still manage to scrounge up a dinner. I guess it's been looted and ransacked. It's better if he's dead, then I won't have to feel guilty. The thick gun smoke in the evening breeze, lighting a cigarette might help. Too bad I don't smoke, that stuff isn't fun. Where's my juice?
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