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墨書 Inktalez
The next morning, on the decayed and shabby rooftop of the Yin Yang Building, Zuo Ci sat cross-legged. Seven grotesque faces, shrouded in black mist, loomed around him like the tentacles extending from his back. Their youthful black features twisted in a sinister manner, resembling Li Gui crawling out from the depths of the underworld.
Their pupils were crimson as blood, fixated on Zuo Ci's back. At times, they displayed fierce expressions, while at other moments, fear flickered in their eyes. Zuo Ci's lips curled into a slight smile as he opened his ink-black eyes, devoid of any light. His fingers curled like claws as he grasped one of the Yanfu Tongshen, gently patting its aged yet youthful face.
"Be obedient," he said with a smile. "If you attempt to ambush me again like last time during my meditation, you should know what price you will have to pay."
The Yanfu Tongshen nodded in a seemingly understanding manner, its scarlet eyes narrowing like needles. The black mist swirling around it trembled involuntarily. Zuo Ci chuckled softly and released his grip; the seven Yanfu Tongshen instinctively transformed into strands of black smoke and drilled into his body.
He pulled out half a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes from his pocket, using a crude technique to roll them. The yellow-black tobacco exuded a scent of decay. With a snap, he lit one up, and his mind instantly calmed down considerably.
Thoughts flowed through him as he fell into a momentary reverie. He was born in the remote and distant Ku Shan, in Zuo Jia Cun. Ku Shan was far removed from the mundane world, resembling a paradise; his parents were simple farmers with little education.
This village had a peculiar rule: every household must bear a healthy male child if they wished to obtain food. It was unclear who had established this rule, but the daily task for the farmers of Zuo Jia Cun was to have children. It seemed that the village chief had signed some sort of agreement with the Yu Ding Guan at the foot of the mountain, which thrived with incense offerings.
Whenever a boy was born in the village, the chief was obligated to pick up the phone and notify the Zhen Ren within the temple so they could come to claim the child. In return for these boys taken away, those well-fed gentlemen would bring food and supplies back to Zuo Jia Cun.
In a place like Zuo Jia Village, where livestock were kept in enclosures, even the telephone was only found in the village chief's home. The village chief was well acquainted with the observing Zhen Ren.
Every time a baby boy was born in the village, the village chief's face, wrinkled like old tree bark, would light up with joy. The birth of a boy meant access to abundant resources, creating a chain of industry within Zuo Jia Village. Farmers neglected their crops, spending their days at home nurturing their bodies and using folk remedies, all in hopes of giving birth to a healthy baby boy.
Women would sneak away with other men, while men would sleep with their neighbors' wives. Such occurrences were no longer rare in Zuo Jia Village. The village chief welcomed these actions; what he desired was always a healthy, plump baby boy. As for who paired with whom and how it was done—whether it adhered to ethical norms—none of that mattered.
However, it seemed that heaven had played a trick on Zuo Jia Village. For nearly ten years, every child born there had been a girl; not a single boy had come into the world. The Zhen Ren appeared to have given up on Zuo Jia Village as well, sending only small amounts of grain each month—enough to keep them alive but not enough to truly fill their stomachs.
When the latest girl was born, the village chief paced anxiously in their humble earthen house, his dark brown skin trembling with worry. It had to be a boy; it absolutely had to be a boy!
Accompanied by the midwife's sharp gasp, the village chief's heart sank. Inside the delivery room, there was no sound of a baby's cry. Could it be a stillborn? As he strode into the room, his expression changed drastically.
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