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The Mistake of Qingming: Book 1
墨書 Inktalez
Ashes floated under the gloomy sky as I knelt before my father-in-law's grave, mechanically completing the tenth annual memorial ceremony. The scent of burning incense mingled with the damp earth, filling my nostrils. I looked up at the sky; dark clouds hung low, threatening to unleash rain at any moment.
“Dad, I’m here to see you again,” I whispered, tossing the last stack of paper money into the fire. The flames greedily licked the yellow paper, turning it to ashes in an instant.
As I stood up, a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. I stumbled and had to steady myself against the tombstone to avoid falling. This discomfort had been occurring more frequently lately—unexplained fatigue, a series of unfortunate events, and medical check-ups that revealed nothing wrong with my body. I forced a bitter smile and shook my head, attributing it all to work stress.
Turning to leave, my peripheral vision caught something unusual on the back of the tombstone. Curiosity piqued, I walked around to inspect it and found several strange markings etched into the stone, resembling some kind of runes or distorted script. As I reached out to touch the indentations, a sharp pain shot through my fingertip, causing me to retract my hand as if struck by static electricity.
“How strange, how did I never notice this before...” I murmured to myself, pulling out my phone to take a picture of the runes.
Raindrops began to fall sporadically as I quickened my pace down the mountain. Passing by the caretaker's small hut, I spotted a hunched figure standing at the door—Old Liu, who had worked here for over twenty years.
“Mr. Cheng, back for another visit?” Old Liu’s voice was as rough as sandpaper.
“Yes, it’s been ten years; not a single one missed,” I managed a strained smile.
Old Liu’s murky eyes fixed on me for several seconds before he suddenly lowered his voice. “Have you noticed... something’s off about that place?”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
“That grave...” Old Liu glanced around as if afraid someone might overhear him. “Not a single blade of grass has grown there in ten years; three trees nearby have died. And...” He leaned closer, his breath heavy with smoke. “Every time you come to pay your respects, a few birds in that area die.”
A chill ran down my spine. “Please don’t joke about such things...”
“I’ve lived most of my life; some things are better believed than dismissed,” Old Liu shook his head. “If you don’t believe me, find someone knowledgeable to take a look at those pictures you took.”
The rain intensified as I hurriedly bid farewell to Old Liu, but unease had already taken root in my mind. When I returned home, my wife Lin Wen was busy in the kitchen. Without turning her head, she said upon hearing me enter, “You’re back? Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Yeah,” I replied hesitantly, debating whether to tell her about the tombstone. But remembering how she missed her father especially during this time of year, I decided against it for now.
After dinner, I excused myself under the pretense of work and retreated to my study. I uploaded the photos of the runes to a feng shui forum. Within half an hour, someone messaged me claiming to be a feng shui master who wanted to meet and discuss further.
The next day at noon, I met this self-proclaimed Master Zhang Jingming at a tea house. He appeared to be in his fifties but had remarkably bright eyes that seemed capable of seeing through one's soul.
“Mr. Cheng,” he got straight to the point, “the runes in your photos are part of an ancient ‘Borrowing Luck’ spell.”
“Borrowing Luck?” My hands trembled slightly around my teacup.
“In simple terms, it’s a method of transferring one person’s fortune to another through specific feng shui arrangements and charms,” Zhang Jingming said gravely. “And judging by the completeness and wear of these runes, this arrangement has been in effect for at least ten years.”
Ten years. A jolt ran through me; that was precisely when I began visiting the grave.
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