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墨書 Inktalez
The "big hand" moved swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, my junior was slammed against the rock wall. Suddenly, the wall quivered and transformed into the shape of a human mouth, swallowing my junior whole. I followed closely behind Old Qiao, still trying to comprehend what had just happened when I too was engulfed.
We had no lighting equipment, plunging into complete darkness. All we could do was desperately chase after the sound of my junior being dragged away. The uneven ground caused me to stumble, twisting my ankle painfully, but I dared not stop or even speak loudly; I held back my breath, fearing that the sound might vanish at any moment.
My thoughts flickered back to the Bagua Underground Palace. I had been running after the footsteps of my companions then as well. Suddenly, those footsteps had disappeared, sending my heart racing. When I finally turned on my flashlight, I was met with the sight of a snake's head as large as a lantern, its crimson tongue flicking toward my face, nearly scaring me to death.
The current situation felt eerily similar. My heart raced again, partly out of fear that the sound might suddenly disappear and I would lose my junior; partly out of dread for whatever chaotic things might be lurking in the depths of this darkness, waiting for us to deliver ourselves to them. I wasn't afraid of dying; I just feared dying in a messy way.
Lost in these thoughts, I suddenly bumped my forehead against a rock with a dull thud. Before my nervous system could register the pain, tears instinctively welled up. In the next moment, a sharp pain shot through my forehead, cold sweat broke out all over me, and my body uncontrollably convulsed as I curled up on the ground. Damn it, my bones must have cracked.
Old Qiao, who was following closely behind, stumbled over my feet with a startled cry. He probably thought he had tripped over something else and was terrified: "Ah! Don't grab me! Don't grab me..."
I received several kicks from his flailing legs, which only added to my headache and irritation. In a fit of frustration, I reached out blindly and unexpectedly grabbed Old Qiao's ankle. He panicked and twitched in response, unable to articulate: "Don't... don't hold me! Don't hold me!"
I was equally startled; I hadn't expected Old Qiao, usually as steady as a mountain, to show such panic—was he afraid of ghosts too? Confucius once said that one should reciprocate kindness; just as I was about to tease him about it, I suddenly felt a tight grip around my own ankle.
I can't quite describe how that felt—like being caught red-handed while doing something wrong. In our line of work as Errand Runners, we often ventured into bizarre and eerie places, so we generally had strong mental fortitude; being afraid of ghosts was unacceptable because there were far worse things than "ghosts." If you couldn't handle the basics, you might as well change careers. Of course, my junior was an exception.
So I steadied myself and deduced from Old Qiao's earlier cries that whatever had grabbed him must be near my head above me. I raised my arm and touched his ankle. However, my right foot—the one being held—was at least two meters away from Old Qiao's arm. Unless he had arms or hands two meters long, it was impossible for him to reach my foot.
I knew that in our line of work, being afraid of ghosts was unacceptable; yet often practice and theory are two different matters—try it if you don’t believe me.
I instinctively shivered. Who could be gripping my ankle? A person or a ghost?
The atmosphere became eerily tense, and in a state of extreme fear, I found myself unable to speak. I clenched my jaw tightly, desperately trying to suppress my trembling hands. My palms were slick with cold sweat, so slippery that I almost lost my grip on Old Qiao's ankle, yet instinctively, I felt the urge to hold on tighter.
Suddenly, the hand gripping my ankle tightened its hold. I couldn't tell if it was the cold sweat from my leg or the moisture from its palm, but it felt damp... I froze for a moment. Could ghosts sweat too?
I quickly gathered my thoughts. The only thing I had ever encountered that could be called a "ghost" was the long-haired female spirit that had crouched on my back when I was climbing the Bronze chain beneath the Qinling Tree Well. At that time, all I remembered was that she could blow out candles, and we had exchanged a few words, but I hadn’t paid attention to whether she could sweat!
Thinking about this made me bolder. After all, this kind of situation becomes familiar with experience; if we could communicate, we could negotiate. We were all in this together for our own purposes. Since this ghost had sought me out, it surely had a need. In our line of work, we couldn't afford to discriminate by species; as long as the price was right, we would welcome anyone. Of course, right now, I didn’t dare ask this lady or Great-Grandfather for money; I just wanted to stay alive.
Last time I communicated with that female ghost, we used candles. If she deemed our interaction reasonable, she would blow one out. But now, conditions were limited; there were no candles or open flames—what should I do?
Suddenly, an idea struck me. I tapped out a sequence of Morse Code with my right foot: three short taps followed by three long ones and then three short taps again. This was a simplified version of the international distress signal, translating to "SOS." It had been widely used and recognized; we often played games using it. As long as this ghost wasn’t from some remote cave, it should understand.
About three seconds later, I heard a series of taps—“tap tap tap, tap—tap—tap, tap tap tap”—coming from about two arm's lengths away in front of me, exactly mirroring the signal I had just sent.
What did this mean? Did it need my help or was it merely mimicking me?
I decided to try further communication. Just as I was preparing to send another signal, another series of “three short taps and three long taps” echoed from Old Qiao’s foot.
My heart raced at the realization—Old Qiao was still unaware! If he found out there was indeed a ghost here, he would be terrified beyond belief. I needed to warn him to stay quiet and still so that the ghost wouldn’t notice him.
With that thought in mind, I moved my fingers and lightly tapped two sequences on his ankle: “four short taps followed by three short and one long” and “one long tap followed by one short tap and so on.” It seemed complicated but translated into just three words—“There’s trouble.”
Old Qiao could be considered a semi-expert on Tu Fuzi, having served as a guide at the Qin Shi Huang Mausoleum for nearly ten years. His extensive research on obscure and niche topics made even the most complex codes seem simple to him.
However, just a few seconds later, the hand gripping my ankle began to move. I held my breath and counted: four short taps... three short... one long, followed by one long and one short... one long and one short... one long... two shorts... one long... which translated to: something's wrong?!
I was momentarily stunned; this was simply impossible! This code was something I had personally tapped onto Old Qiao's ankle, making no sound at all. Aside from Old Qiao and me, there was absolutely no way a third person could know it. No matter how skilled that ghost was, could it possibly have night vision or telepathy?
I had never seen what night vision looked like, and it was a pity that I didn't have any light on me now; otherwise, I would definitely want to see it for myself.
As I pondered this, suddenly there was a loud "bang" as someone turned on a flashlight. I heard Old Qiao let out a nervous shout, and with a sudden kick, he broke free from my grasp. At that moment, I had no time to worry about him; I squinted my eyes to quickly adjust to the light. In the same instant, I rolled over and sat up, grabbing the hand that was still clinging to my ankle with lightning speed.
The thrill of catching a ghost made my heart race wildly. I couldn't tell if it was more excitement or fear—whatever it was, I didn't care! Strangely enough, the hand felt delicate like that of a young woman—soft and tender. Yes, it must be a beautiful ghost... Just like pulling a bride, I brought it into the light. When I saw it clearly, I nearly bit my tongue in shock.
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