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墨書 Inktalez
I returned to the old house, my heart still filled with confusion and unease.
Chen Mo's words echoed in my mind: I could communicate with the spirit world?
How could that be possible?
I had always been a staunch materialist, never believing in ghosts or deities.
Yet, Chen Mo's words were so certain, so resolute, like steel nails firmly driven into my heart, refusing to be shaken off.
Could it be that ghosts truly existed in this world?
I shook my head vigorously, trying to expel these absurd thoughts from my mind, but they clung to me like creeping vines, tightening their grip.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy door of the old house.
A chill rushed at me, as if carrying a coldness from the underworld, instantly seeping into my bones.
The walls of the old house were mottled, as if they had been mercilessly gnawed by time, revealing the gray bricks beneath.
The furniture was old and covered in a thick layer of dust, appearing particularly eerie under the dim light.
The air was thick with a musty smell, mingled with dust, making it hard to breathe.
I fumbled to light an oil lamp; its dim yellow glow resembled a timid child, illuminating only a small part of the old house while the rest remained shrouded in darkness, like lurking monsters ready to devour me at any moment.
I walked step by step toward my grandmother's room, each step feeling like I was treading on cotton—light yet unbearably heavy.
My heart raced, as if it were about to leap out of my chest.
I stood at the door of my grandmother's room, pausing for a moment, hesitating whether to enter.
My hand trembled as I slowly pushed the door open.
With a creak, the old wooden door let out a harsh groan, as if protesting my intrusion.
The room was small, containing only a bed, a wardrobe, and a table—so simple it tugged at my heartstrings.
The furnishings were minimal yet tidy, just like my grandmother was in life—meticulous and orderly.
I walked to the bedside and gently touched the sheets; the rough texture felt like it was reaching into my heart.
I could almost sense my grandmother's presence, warm and kind.
Though she had passed away many years ago, I still vividly remembered her voice and smile, her warm embrace, and the gentle tone in which she told stories.
She was a loving elder who always shared tales with me, taught me how to read and write, and accompanied me through countless joyful childhood moments.
From a young age, I was very close to her; she was like a mother to me, providing meticulous care and love.
I picked up a photo of her; in it, she wore a gentle smile and had kind eyes that seemed to look at me, offering encouragement and strength.
Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, like pearls slipping from a broken string, each drop falling onto the photograph.
"Grandma, where are you?" I choked out silently in my heart.
"Do you know what I've encountered?"
"I need your help. Can you hear my voice?"
Suddenly, I felt the temperature in the room plummet, a chill racing from my feet to the top of my head, causing me to shiver involuntarily.
Fearfully, I looked around; the room was empty, with only the dim yellow light flickering, casting distorted shadows that resembled clawing specters, mocking my terror.
An inexplicable dread washed over me. My heart raced, and my breath quickened, as if an invisible hand were tightening around my throat, suffocating me.
I clutched my grandmother's photograph tightly; the cold frame pressed against my palm, offering a faint sense of comfort.
Suddenly, I saw a shadow dart past me, swift as lightning yet too real to ignore.
I screamed in fright, dropping the photograph to the floor where it made a sharp sound that echoed painfully in the silence of the room.
Terrified, I glanced around but saw nothing—only endless darkness and a deathly stillness.
Could it be a hallucination?
Trembling, I bent down to pick up the photograph. My grandmother still wore her gentle smile in the picture, her eyes warm as if reassuring me not to be afraid.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself.
"Lin Xia, you cannot be afraid; you must be strong," I silently urged myself.
I stumbled toward the window and forcefully pulled back the heavy curtains to look outside.
The night was deep and dark, with countless stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across a black curtain.
Suddenly, I recalled Chen Mo's words; she said I could communicate with the spirit world.
Could that shadow I saw earlier be... Jiang Yao?
As this thought crossed my mind, curiosity and anticipation filled my heart, mingled with a hint of fear.
I decided to give it a try and see if I could truly connect with the spirit world.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself. Then, I slowly said, "Jiang Yao, are you there?"
My voice was barely a whisper, almost inaudible, but I believed that if Jiang Yao truly existed, she would be able to hear me.
I waited for a moment, but there was no response—only the rustling of leaves in the wind and the sound of my own heartbeat.
Disappointment washed over me. Could it be that Chen Mo was lying?
Was I really just imagining things?
Gathering my courage once more, I said, "Jiang Yao, if you are here, please give me a sign."
My voice remained soft, yet I was filled with hope, like a child lost in the darkness desperately yearning for a glimmer of light.
Suddenly, I felt the temperature in the room drop again, colder than before, as if I were standing in an ice cellar.
I shivered and abruptly opened my eyes to look around.
I saw a dark figure standing behind me, motionless, like a messenger from hell.
I screamed in terror and turned to run, but my body felt as if it were nailed to the ground, unable to move.
In fear, I looked at the shadow, which gradually became clearer.
It was a woman dressed in attire from the Republic of China, her complexion pale.
On her forehead was a blood-red mark, resembling a blooming Lycoris radiata, both enchanting and eerie.
Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, obscuring most of her face, revealing only a pointed chin and a pair of melancholic eyes.
She was Jiang Yao.
I gazed at Jiang Yao, my heart filled with fear and curiosity; these two contrasting emotions intertwined, leaving me bewildered.
"Y-You are Jiang Yao?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jiang Yao slowly nodded. Her voice was deep and hoarse, echoing as if it came from the depths of the earth. "I am Jiang Yao."
I looked at Jiang Yao, my mind swirling with questions. "W-Why have you come to find me?"
Jiang Yao gazed back at me, a hint of sadness flashing in her eyes, like a drop of ink falling into clear lake water, slowly spreading. "I need your help."
(End of chapter)
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