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墨書 Inktalez
Returning to the Dragon Garden, Zhang Long's sense of fear deepened. If the last time he visited, he felt the knowledge restriction had been torn apart, this time, the entire garden was shrouded in an endless chill. It was daytime, with less than half an hour until noon, and the sun was shining brightly overhead, yet it could not compete with the cold seeping up from the ground.
Beside him, Xiao Mei appeared much calmer. She slowly turned her head to survey the surroundings, remaining silent as she made her way towards the small second-floor room where he usually stayed. As they approached, he could feel the temperature rising, and around the dagger that was stuck in the ground, a strange powder had appeared.
Someone had been here; although the house's restriction had been completely torn down, a higher level of protection had been placed on this small building.
He glanced at Xiao Mei. Despite being only a few days away from adulthood, she seemed far more mature than her peers. At that moment, she fixed her cold gaze on the small house, standing resolutely in front of the restriction without stepping any further inside.
"Can you figure out what’s going on? I’m a bit confused," he said. He knew what was inside that small house and dared not enter recklessly in front of Xiao Mei.
She tilted her head slightly in response to his question, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I think I have an idea of who it is, but he has truly provoked me this time." After that, she ignored the dagger and powder, gesturing for him to look inside. "If you're scared, I’ll go in and listen to him."
Zhang Long understood that this place was fraught with danger, but as a driver and friend, he couldn’t just abandon her. He stepped boldly to the door of the small house and sat down on the steps, replying earnestly, "Just don’t close the door."
In this situation, even a pig could guess who might come here. The extent of hatred that awaited them inside was something he couldn’t quantify. Staying outside seemed like the safest choice; after all, compared to Xiao Mei, his life felt even more fragile.
The door indeed remained open. Just as he settled onto the steps, the wooden door creaked open wider, letting in an even colder wind that sent shivers down his spine and made him pull his coat tighter around himself. Zhang Long felt quite clever for having brought an extra layer with him.
Leaning against the handrail and looking into the room, he saw it filled with a faint mist; everything appeared hazy and indistinct as if something were moving within it. He watched as Xiao Mei walked in without hesitation; the door began to close slowly behind her. Though a bit apprehensive, he quickly sprang up and pushed against the door. "Don’t close it!"
The force behind the door vanished instantly as mist began to extend towards where he stood. Just as he prepared to step back to avoid it, he heard Xiao Mei's voice from inside: "Come in; he’s not angry."
Inside were only mist and Xiao Mei lounging on a sofa with her legs crossed. There was also a "thing" squatting on the floor that had been staring at him with its red eyes since he entered. The temperature inside was somewhat low but much better than sitting outside in the wind.
This was someone who had been forced to become Xiao Mei's roommate—or rather, someone who wished to be human.
Zhang Long remembered meeting him for the first time when he was very young. He had just begun his apprenticeship when his senior brother took him into remote mountains to gather materials for crafting talismans. Underneath a dead old tree at midnight during a full moon, they encountered him.
At that time, Zhang Long followed his daring senior brother closely while carrying a basket of herbs they collected along their way. The round moon hung high above them, its silver light brighter than any city lights they knew; they were fortunate not to encounter any obstacles until they reached a desolate area that seemed to have been burned by fire—trees and plants lay charred on the ground with dead trees standing among them.
Before stepping into that desolate land, they saw a figure made of white mist gently twisting beneath the dead tree as if beckoning them closer. His senior brother pulled out a small red cloth bag adorned with intricate designs that Zhang Long couldn’t understand.
"Don’t step into this wasteland; just wait for me here," his brother whispered in his ear while handing him a hoe to hold tightly. Terrified by the misty figure, Zhang Long took hold of the hoe and stepped back two paces. He watched as his brother crouched down carefully with both hands cradling the bag and approached the dead tree stealthily. Kneeling about half a meter away from it, he gently placed the cloth bag on the ground.
From such a distance, Zhang Long couldn’t hear what his brother was saying; however, as his voice echoed through the air, the white mist stopped twisting and slowly coalesced into a clearer human form that bowed in return to his brother's greeting. Then his brother said they didn’t need to search for materials anymore and could head back.
On their way back down from the mountain, they shared an unspoken understanding and remained silent until they were safely away from it all. Finally cautious enough to ask what it was that they had encountered, his brother smiled slightly while rearranging herbs in his basket and replied: "That’s Mountain Spirit."
That place had been deliberately burned; Mountain Spirit prayed for the deceased plants there. Their master feared that lost travelers might be misled by Mountain Spirit and get hurt if they passed through there. So while gathering materials each month on the fifteenth day, they would bring offerings along with them. If they encountered Mountain Spirit, they would speak kindly so that he wouldn’t harm innocent travelers; offerings would be provided throughout an entire year—delivered every fifteenth day.
Thus every month on that day without fail for twelve months straight, they brought their red cloth bag beside that dead tree without missing once. On their twelfth visit, Zhang Long was finally allowed to approach and speak with Mountain Spirit beside the tree. Mountain Spirit couldn’t speak—or perhaps Zhang Long simply didn’t have the ability to understand yet—but watching that little white figure bowing back at him filled him with joy.
However, this joy did not last long. Just as they prepared to leave after their visit one day, they heard a sharp scream from behind them. Turning around quickly, they saw someone in a white cloak standing by the dead tree grasping at the mist with gloved hands. His brother rushed forward but heard that person say: "If you don’t come closer, he can live; if you do come closer—he will die."
Threats are always effective against children, especially in this situation. The White Cloak must possess formidable means to have the Mountain Spirit, which can confuse passersby, in their grasp. They couldn't confirm whether what White Cloak said was true, but to protect the Mountain Spirit, they had no choice but to hold back.
They watched as White Cloak withdrew the hand holding the Mountain Spirit back into the cloak and swiftly turned to flee, disappearing from sight in the blink of an eye. When they finally reached the withered tree, all they could see was desolation. It suddenly struck him why, after a year had passed, there were still no signs of grass growing here.
When he returned to tell his master about this incident, the old man with a white beard shook his head and sighed while sitting in front of a game console. "I wondered why there was a change in the divination; it turns out it was him. Even if this matter has passed, you two don’t need to go back anymore; the Mountain Spirit is fine."
The next time he saw the Mountain Spirit, it was in the Jiang Family Courtyard. The figure transformed from white mist and bound by a strand of black hair under a peach tree had grown considerably larger and now possessed red eyes. Yet he could clearly sense that the Mountain Spirit had become much more violent than before. His sixth sense warned him not to approach, and the young master of the Jiang Family advised him against it as well.
Later, he saw a small two-story building here, which had not only external Restrictions but also specific seals inside meant for it. Although it was freer than being bound by that strand of hair, it had only caused more resentment within.
The room filled with white mist was proof of that.
As for Xiao Mei, she showed no extra reaction to the resentful Mountain Spirit. Instead, she casually grabbed snacks from the table and occasionally nodded at the squatting Mountain Spirit, using simple words like "yes" and "okay" to indicate her understanding.
Zhang Long had studied diligently for over ten years but still hadn’t learned how to communicate with spirits, so he couldn’t hear a word of what Mountain Spirit was saying to Xiao Mei. In contrast, Xiao Mei, who seemed naturally able to communicate with these entities without distinction, often complained about how troublesome this ability was.
This probably echoed the old saying: "Those who are dry will die of drought; those who are flooded will drown."
"What did it say to you?" Zhang Long asked curiously on their way back. The person who looked drowsy as soon as they got into the car smiled slightly while holding a small pillow and replied, "The ones who broke the Restrictions and reinforced my house were two groups."
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