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墨書 Inktalez
The paintbrush, dipped in ochre, suddenly hung in mid-air, the un-dried blood-red paint flowing along the creases of the canvas, casting an eerie glow under the desk lamp.
She stared at the unfinished sketch beside the easel—within the shadows of the teaching building's rooftop railing, a half-buried sneaker caked with mud was faintly visible.
"It's time to reel it in."
She bit open a new tube of paint, the metallic taste of rust spreading across her tongue. Outside the window, raindrops slanted against the glass, slicing the halo of light from the art studio's overhead lamp into tiny diamond shapes.
In the faculty coffee corner on Tuesday afternoon, Zhao Qiang's fingers tightened around the creamer spoon.
Among the newly posted campus sketches on the bulletin board, a pencil sketch of " Rooftop Sunset " featured a faint outline of the library's old bookshelf number in its lower right corner.
The bottom of his coffee cup clinked against the porcelain plate with a crisp sound, deep brown liquid swaying dangerously at the rim.
"Little brat."
He loosened his tie, feeling the USB drive in his briefcase dig painfully into his ribs.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, a girl holding a camera briefly appeared behind a Ginkgo tree.
The midnight teaching building loomed like a lurking giant.
Zhao Qiang felt cold sweat bead in his palm as he gripped his flashlight; when its beam swept across the third-floor corridor of D Zone, it suddenly illuminated arrows painted in fluorescent colors on the wall.
The dark green phosphorescence flickered in the darkness, pointing towards the fire escape.
"Damn it!"
He kicked aside an obstructive abandoned desk, its rusty hinges creaking with an unbearable screech.
Deep within the ventilation duct lay a brown paper bag; using his phone's dim light, he recognized the wax seal on its opening—the same design as that used to seal surveillance footage years ago.
A reporter crouched in the opposite residential building adjusted her telephoto lens, watching Zhao Qiang flit around campus like a headless fly.
Suddenly, several figures in school uniforms entered her frame; leading them was a boy whose backpack zipper was adorned with a limited edition sports star keychain—the very same one who had smashed Xiao Ya's drawing board in that bullying video.
"Camera position three ready; he's about to jump over!"
Urgent instructions crackled through his earpiece. The rain suddenly intensified, and the corner of Zhao Qiang's briefcase revealed paper edges that quickly blurred with ink stains in the downpour—clearly an emblematic pattern from Academic Affairs Office stationery.
The next morning during early self-study, every phone in the grade vibrated simultaneously.
In a grid of photos posted by an anonymous account, Zhao Qiang’s figure prying open the archive room at midnight was juxtaposed with disciplinary documents from three years ago regarding a bullying incident; the final image was a close-up of mud-stained sneakers—the tread pattern magnified perfectly matched that of mud on the rooftop railing.
"Wow! These shoes are a limited edition release!"
A boy in the back row suddenly slammed his hands on the table, and his brand new sneakers instantly became the center of attention in the classroom.
It was unclear who started it, but soon pieces of chalk began to rain down, leaving glaring white marks on the pristine surface of the shoes.
As the sound of police sirens tore through the morning mist, Xiao Ya was in the Art Classroom, cleaning her palette. She hummed a tuneless song while splashing dirty water mixed with ochre paint into the sink.
Outside the window, sparrows perched on the sycamore tree, clutching blue and white fabric strips as they flew towards the treetops—fragments of old school uniforms dug out from a trash can.
"Art comes from life," she said, raising her cup to the air, feeling the sour bitterness of her iced Americano rolling down her throat.
The corridor was filled with chaotic footsteps, and someone shouted loudly that "the police are here," mixed with the dull thud of heavy objects hitting the ground and suppressed sobs that had lingered for years.
That afternoon, trending on social media was the phrase "Campus Mural Hides a Secret," followed by explosive reactions.
In anonymously leaked footage from a body camera, Zhao Qiang was seen stuffing a brown paper bag into the principal's office safe.
The most shared post, however, was Xiao Ya's latest oil painting titled "Poised to Break Free"—in which a girl’s ankle was ensnared by spider silk while her fingertips grasped the wings of a predator.
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