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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Twelve Ghost Tower
This incident took place in a suburb outside the city, where there stands a Ghost Tower. Why is it called the Ghost Tower? Don't rush, let's explore the secrets of the Ghost Tower together!
This Ghost Tower is quite old; it was built in the last century and is also known as the Widow's Tower.
The story dates back to 2010, when I was drinking with a few Buddies and we talked about that building. I only knew it as the Widow's Tower, not aware of the term Ghost Tower. Why is it called the Widow's Tower? Because mostly women lived there, and most of the babies born in that building were girls. If a boy was born, he would soon die. The women in that building had men, but where did those men go?
They died. Why did they die? I don't know; I only heard that they either died from illness, fell into a well, or died unexpectedly. Any couple that moved in would have the man die within a year. They even hired someone to perform rituals, but nothing changed.
Thus, one by one, the men died. You might ask why they didn't just move away. Yes, why not move? But who knew this was the Ghost Tower? People just saw someone moving in and dared not say anything. After the men died and moved out, where could the women and their children go? Gradually, this building became known as the Ghost Tower, also called the Widow's Tower. This is a story from before I was born, so I only heard about it and cannot verify it! Now let's get to the main topic!
I still remember that drinking session vividly. The summer mosquitoes were also unforgettable. That time my brother returned from another city with some local specialty liquor. Since we were all close friends, I naturally joined them. It was summer, so I bought some Skewers for a barbecue!
After a forty-minute drive to my brother's house, we gathered together to prepare for the evening barbecue while chatting. As night fell, I glanced at my watch—oh my, it was already past eight! Let's get started! After several rounds of drinks, we chatted about everything under the sun. We had four cases of beer and two bottles of liquor, plus a case of Can, while three other brothers didn't show up. We drank until around two in the morning! We started talking about the Ghost Tower, sharing stories that adults had told us about it, and before we knew it, it was past three.
By then we were all feeling tipsy. One brother suggested whether to go home or stay until dawn. Another brother said since we were talking about the Ghost Tower, why not check if it's true or not? Everyone had drunk enough to agree—after all, no one was afraid! Thus began a new round of adventure; my brother went to grab a Flashlight, a machete! He also took a crossbow! And so our exploration began!
The four of us stumbled our way to that Ghost Tower. Due to past events, no one lived there anymore; it had been abandoned for a long time! Before entering, my brother said if anything happened we would come out together—if anyone wanted to chicken out, they could run away. Of course, fueled by alcohol, no one would admit fear.
One person held the Flashlight, while the others carried machetes; I took a crossbow as our adventure commenced. Upon entering, we immediately felt a chill; my brother joked that it was nice and cool here in summer—a good place! (Let me describe the structure of the building: upon entering is one room with another room on each side; each floor has stairs leading up to another room on either side—there are two rooms per floor for a total of five floors!) We started exploring the first floor; all doors on this floor were locked. The same went for the second and third floors. When we reached the fourth floor, only one door was open. As we entered, a musty smell assaulted us, nearly making us gag.
But we held back. A few of us entered the bedroom and saw an old radio, a mirror that could no longer reflect anything, and a writing desk. We didn't notice anything unusual. Later, we went into the living room, which had a bed, a sofa, and an old television. There was nothing strange there either, so we went out and headed up to the fifth floor.
From the fourth floor to the fifth floor, it was the same layout, except there were no doors. At this point, my brother said it was pointless; it was just an abandoned building—what ghosts could there be? We echoed his sentiment, saying it was boring; there wasn't even a shadow of a ghost—just a scare tactic. Just then, one of my brothers said to take a closer look at the layout and furniture arrangement here; everything was identical, even the brand of the television. We were shocked to realize that it was indeed set up just like the fourth floor. We panicked and rushed back down to the fourth floor, but this time I was even more startled—the room that had been open before was now firmly shut. We thought we had made a mistake, but checking the room numbers confirmed it: 401, 402, 403—it was indeed the fourth floor!
Since I could handle my alcohol and felt relatively clear-headed, I suggested to my brother that we should go down and check the lower floors. He agreed and said we should take a look.
We quickly made our way to the third floor—301, 302, 303—yes, this is the third floor. At this point, we noticed that one of the doors on this floor was open. My brother laughed and said we were just scaring ourselves; we must have taken a wrong turn. Laughing together as we entered, I thought that when we saw the third floor's situation, our laughter looked more like crying because there was nothing in the bedrooms or living room—no dust at all—as if someone had cleaned it recently. This was supposed to be an abandoned building! We were scared but still managed to hold ourselves together thanks to the alcohol.
We comforted each other with forced laughter that felt unnatural! Later my brother said it was nothing; we just hadn't looked closely before and had drunk too much. So we decided to go back up for another look. No one disagreed with going back up; armed with flashlights, we ascended to the fourth floor. Upon arriving there, we were stunned—all we saw were walls; nothing else was there.
One of my brothers got anxious and shouted angrily, "Damn it! If you have guts, come out and stop scaring me! I'm not easily frightened!" His voice echoed through the entire hallway. We went up to the fifth floor again, but it was even stranger—there was no fifth floor at all! We clearly remembered having been there before.
At this point, my brother exclaimed in frustration that it must be some ghostly trickery preventing us from leaving. We tried going down again but couldn't find our way outside. I started to panic too. Thus began our endless cycle of going up and down all night until dawn finally broke and we managed to escape.
When we got outside around 5 AM, it was a bit foggy. As I looked back at the fifth floor, I noticed a pale-faced person waving at us—I couldn't tell if they were bidding us farewell or helping us leave or if I had simply imagined them. Perhaps they were the true owner of this place telling us to go! Afterward, none of us spoke about this incident again; we buried it deep within ourselves because we believed in the existence of ghosts—an inexplicable presence... (The story ends)!
The next story is about a meal from long ago; its authenticity is hard to verify as it has been passed down among common folks. Those who have seen the movie "1942" might feel a chill regarding famine stories. In our Jilin Changchun region, there were instances of cannibalism.
In 1948 during the Liaoshen Campaign, gunfire erupted as ten divisions of the National Revolutionary Army led by Zheng Dongguo faced off against Xiao Jingguang's Northeast People's Liberation Army First Corps. The Kuomintang had stationed themselves in Jilin Changchun as their first important strategic stronghold while the Communist Party attempted to breach it—a difficult task at that time. The Kuomintang had American-style equipment and strong fortifications while the People's Liberation Army was far inferior in strength. After several unsuccessful attempts to shake Changchun's defenses, Xiao Jingguang ordered a siege without direct assault; after 150 days of starvation within the city, the Kuomintang surrendered. Several division leaders committed suicide with their weapons as 150,000 civilians starved to death along with 50,000 wounded soldiers. At that time, Changchun's total population did not exceed 300,000—this became known as "Trapped in Changchun."
The scene back then was horrific; according to elderly witnesses who have since passed away, families would support each other out of villages looking for trees tall enough for hanging themselves—the last one would help collect bodies while hanging alone without anyone left to care for them. In every village chief's farmland area, people starved or committed suicide everywhere. Even slightly younger trees had their bark stripped bare; most houses were torn down for firewood while asphalt roads laid during Japanese occupation were dug up for warmth. Bodies of those who died from eating red earth lay on roadsides day after day until they stopped moving. There were also cases of cannibalism where wild dogs feasted on human flesh—their eyes turned red from consuming human meat—it truly illustrated how war can bring about unimaginable horrors.
There are many stories circulating from that time; I've selected two: In Helong Town near Changchun during intense conflict between Nationalists and Communists—sometimes attacks occurred over twenty times in a single day—some villagers formed gangs using weapons scavenged from corpses specifically targeting isolated soldiers to rob them of food before raiding local homes for more supplies and committing acts of violence against women as well. They would seize whatever they could; if they couldn't win in battle they would flee because warfare created such chaos.
Eventually, these actions caught attention from military officials who couldn't allow such behavior! The National Revolutionary Army began forming small teams to hunt down these bandits. They stood no chance against regular troops; after several days of searching and skirmishes half their number had been killed with only six or seven remaining—two of whom were injured by gunfire. When night fell they ceased their pursuit due to fears of ambushes in darkness and ammunition shortages since reinforcements couldn't arrive in time while soldiers themselves had gone without meals for several days—they didn't want to waste energy chasing after bandits either.
However when dawn broke finding those bandits became difficult; after six or seven days tracking them down they located their hideout at Mazi Tun only to discover several had already died under strange circumstances: two who had been shot could not receive medical attention due to excessive bleeding while among four others two had shot each other dead while another pair had literally gorged themselves until death surrounded by military canned goods scattered around them—their bellies swollen like frogs with tears and mucus dripping from their faces as food oozed out from their noses indicating they likely burst their stomachs from overeating—one even stuffed his mouth with piles of thick vomit! It was utterly disgusting; these two bore no wounds yet perished due solely to ruptured intestines.
What baffled everyone was why they chose such a torturous death when food was available—and suicide could have been accomplished with a bullet instead! Some speculated that perhaps they were possessed by starving ghosts leading them towards such self-destruction.
In addition, there is a story. After the war ended, the People's Liberation Army entered the city and set up large pots to cook porridge for the people in need. Some people died from overeating; over time, their stomachs shrank, and food accumulated inside them like appendicitis. There was a young man who ate bowl after bowl until his belly was round, yet he still felt hungry. The people around him noticed something was wrong, so they tied him up and sent him to the Changchun Confucian Temple. By that time, there was no one inside; they struggled to find someone from the old temple. That person looked at him without saying anything, wrote the character for rice in his palm with his fingertip, and then told him to lick his palm. Suddenly, the man who had overeaten no longer felt hungry and began to vomit! His stomach was ruined, and he clutched his aching belly. He lay in bed for a month. Later, when asked about the person who wrote the character for rice, he closed his eyes and did not answer. The common people spread the word that this person who could eat endlessly had been possessed by a ghost of someone who starved to death during the war.
Such stories are frequently told, indicating that the war which caused so many deaths left an everlasting scar in the hearts of that generation; no perfect war can compare to even the worst peace. This is something that those who have not experienced war cannot understand. Even today, when light rail is being constructed in Changchun City, human bone pits can still be excavated. The government explains this as actions taken by the Kwantung Army; however, those who know Changchun's history understand that while the Kwantung Army did not carry out large-scale massacres of troops or civilians within Xin Jing (Changchun), there were indeed some outside the city. These people were those who starved to death during the Trapped in Changchun period.
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