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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 006: The Woman Who Hanged Herself
Despite the bright lights illuminating the Peng family home, those who had been warmly invited to play felt a sense of unease creeping into their hearts.
At a table for four, all neighbors who were well aware of the family's situation, doubts lingered in their minds. They tried to maintain a facade of calm, but their eyes kept drifting toward the flickering lights of the mourning hall.
In the mourning hall stood an Altar Table.
On the Altar Table was a recent photograph of the deceased, a black and white close-up. The deep-set eyes, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, appeared particularly eerie. The addition of a black veil heightened the sense of foreboding; whenever someone’s gaze met the deathly aura emanating from the portrait's hollow eyes, it felt as if Grandma was watching them from an unpredictable angle, her gaze fixed on one of them, sending chills down their spines.
One person who accidentally caught the deceased's gaze quickly averted their eyes, attempting to focus on the mahjong table instead.
Yet even after looking away, an unsettling feeling lingered, especially with the thought of those lifeless eyes watching them like a ghostly lantern, constantly scanning their presence.
Finally losing patience, one player abruptly knocked over the carefully arranged mahjong tiles, creating a cacophony of sound. "Forget it! I'm done playing; something feels off here. It gives me the creeps."
"Stop being superstitious and hand over your money," replied another player, casually propping one leg up on their chair while puffing on a cigarette.
The one who had toppled the tiles stood up abruptly and pointed at a large iron pot beside the Altar Table. "Money? There's plenty in that pot; go grab a handful and you'll never run out."
The other three players lost interest in continuing the game and stood up. One of them muttered defiantly, "Bah! That's yours to use; I have a long life ahead of me."
A piercing cat's wail suddenly shattered the stillness of the night, startling everyone into silence and tightening their nerves. Some were already poised to flee, while others nervously glanced at the mourning hall where Peng Hai was dozing off.
The guiding lantern flickered weakly, struggling not to extinguish itself; its flame danced erratically, casting an eerie green glow reminiscent of ghost fire from hell.
Gulping nervously, they heard the door creak ominously as the wind blew against it, causing all four to exchange startled glances. With a collective gasp that echoed like a ghostly cry, they rushed toward the door.
Outside lay darkness so thick it felt more suffocating than being in a house of death.
They ran, disturbing Peng Hai from his slumber.
He opened his eyes to find that the few people who had been playing Mahjong under the eaves of the mourning hall were long gone, leaving him alone in the entire space.
He couldn't help but glance at his mother's portrait on the Altar Table, and suddenly noticed that blood was streaming from the eyes of the Portrait. He gasped in shock, feeling a wave of tension and fear wash over him, unable to scream as he took steps backward, tripping over a stool. He got back up, his legs felt weak, and he dared not turn around to look.
In his mind's eye, he could envision his mother dressed in a deep blue funeral gown, her bloodied eyes staring deeply at him.
“Mom... I was wrong, I shouldn't have stolen your money... Mom... please forgive me...”
Peng Hai stumbled into Peng Caifu's room without caring that the guiding lantern had gone out, shouting incoherently, “Dad... Mom... ghost...”
A few friends who had rushed out of Peng Caifu's house blended into the darkness of the night, feeling a bit more at ease as they distanced themselves from the house.
They began discussing what had just happened.
Friend A said, “Hammer, who was it that led the way out just now?”
Player B replied, “It definitely wasn't me.”
Player C added, “Did any of you feel like someone pushed that door open...?”
Friend Ding sighed, “Oh! Stop scaring each other. Uncle Cai really wasn't a good person. Just before Aunt Wealth hanged herself, I heard her crying and Uncle Cai's screams from being beaten. Aunt Wealth had such a hard life; when she was young, Uncle Cai was addicted to gambling and drinking. When their children grew up and she thought she could enjoy some peace, she fell ill. When she got sick, Uncle Cai would fly into a rage and beat her more than once.”
Friend A remarked, “I can understand why Uncle Cai died; it's just that Aunt Wealth... my mom Aunt Wealth died and wanted a substitute for me so I wouldn't go to Uncle Cai's house at night.”
Player B chimed in, “Same here. If it weren't for Uncle Cai giving me money, I wouldn't go either.”
Player C said nervously, “No way, no way! Why do I feel like someone is following us?”
At this remark, the group felt their scalps tingle as they turned around in unison to look.
A swaying White Shadow flashed by, startling them into shrieks as they wished they could sprout extra legs to run home as fast as possible.
I covered my mouth, struggling to suppress my laughter, and quietly turned around.
The Peng family’s mourning hall was in complete disarray.
Peng Caifu was gritting his teeth, cursing Peng Hai for being useless, not even realizing that the guiding spirit lamp had gone out. Just as he was getting into it, a sharp sound echoed as the Black Veil Portrait fell from the Altar Table. Startled, Peng Caifu instinctively jumped back. Once he saw that it was just the portrait frame that had fallen, he muttered under his breath, "Damn it."
Peng Caifu stepped forward to pick up the portrait frame and instinctively brushed off the dust. Just as he placed the frame back on the Altar Table, he suddenly erupted into a wailing scream, clutching the portrait frame tightly with both hands and shouting, "Don’t grab me! Let go! Don’t grab me! Let go!"
His cries were loud enough to alarm Peng Yan, who rushed out of the room, while Peng Hai sat on the ground, pale and paralyzed with fear.
I also stepped outside to see what was happening.
I saw Peng Caifu holding the portrait frame in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he cried and confessed, "I was wrong. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. Aizhen, forgive me."
“Dad… Dad, you…” Peng Yan instinctively lowered her voice upon seeing me and walked over to help Peng Caifu up, whispering, “You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Peng Caifu looked down at the portrait frame, panic-stricken and tear-streaked, lamenting through sobs, “Your mother reached out to grab me just now, asking me to accompany her…”
“You’re drunk; she didn’t grab you at all. You were the one holding onto the portrait frame,” Peng Yan said while signaling to Peng Hai. The two siblings helped Peng Caifu up and set the portrait frame back on the Altar Table before leaving.
I quietly observed and walked over to light the guiding spirit lamp.
“Auntie, please remain calm; what’s meant to happen will eventually come to pass.” After finishing my task, I returned to Peng Hai’s bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.
Lying there again, my mind was racing.
Peng Caifu wanted me to quickly provide a burial time. I could no longer remain calm; it was time to activate my supernatural intuition to sense what had happened in this house before.
Blocking out all external factors, I let my thoughts settle. Bits and pieces began to converge in my mind like fragments forming a complete picture through my extraordinary memory. I subconsciously tightened my grip on the rope; from its other end came unusual signals that felt like a cold snake slithering through the dark night.
In a daze, I seemed to hear cries coming from inside the house—shouts of anger, the sound of tables being overturned, and chairs being kicked over.
The woman cried mournfully. Her wails were filled with resentment, eerie and strange, as if something truly terrible had happened.
"Why didn't you die sooner? Our family is in debt, and with your illness, there's no hope for recovery. Why bother with treatment?" came a sharp, scornful voice.
There were also screams that tore through the air.
A furious roar echoed, "What are you screaming about? Your illness is your own fault; who can you blame?" A heart-wrenching cry followed as I saw Peng Caifu gripping his wife's hair at the back of her head, yanking it fiercely—hair came out, and the woman let out a blood-curdling scream.
I felt as if I were standing right there, witnessing the events unfold before my eyes. My blood boiled, and I clenched my fists, wishing I could punch that man who was violently attacking the ailing woman.
The cries ceased, and my world fell silent as the rope moved.
One end was in my hands, while the other was in hers.
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