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墨書 Inktalez
The appearance of Jiang Yao filled me with both fear and curiosity.
The fear stemmed from the fact that she was Vengeful Spirit, while my curiosity revolved around what she wanted me to help with.
I struggled to maintain my composure, suppressing the rising dread within me, and with a dry throat, I asked, "What do you need me to help you with?"
Jiang Yao did not answer immediately. Instead, she fell silent for a moment, as if trapped in the fog of memories, unable to escape. Finally, she softly uttered a few words: "Help me find my diary."
A diary?
Questions swirled in my mind. What could possibly be recorded in that diary?
Why was Jiang Yao's diary so important?
As Vengeful Spirit, how could her lingering obsession be merely a diary?
I was baffled and asked again, "Where is your diary?"
Jiang Yao's ethereal figure swayed gently, like a willow branch dancing in the wind. Her hollow gaze seemed to pierce through me, drifting into an endless void. "I don't know. It might be hidden in some corner of this old house."
An old house?
I looked around. The old house was vast, filled with numerous rooms, resembling a gigantic maze. Finding a small diary within it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
I couldn't help but feel disheartened; this seemed more difficult than climbing to the heavens.
Yet when I saw the sorrowful look in Jiang Yao's eyes—filled with hope and despair—I found it hard to refuse her.
Taking a deep breath to quell my unease, I said, "Alright, I promise you. I will do my best to help you find your diary."
A hint of gratitude appeared on Jiang Yao's face as her pale lips parted slightly. She softly said, "Thank you."
As soon as she finished speaking, her figure gradually became blurry, dissipating into the air like a wisp of smoke until she vanished completely.
I stood there, stunned for a long while, my mind racing with thoughts before I finally regained my composure.
Jiang Yao's appearance made me even more certain of Chen Mo's words; it seemed I truly possessed some sort of special ability to communicate with the spirit world.
This ability filled me with fear, yet also a thrill of excitement.
Moreover, Jiang Yao's request piqued my curiosity even further. What secrets were hidden within her diary?
What could possibly make her so persistent that she refused to leave even after becoming Vengeful Spirit?
I decided to start searching for Jiang Yao's diary immediately.
I lit more oil lamps, the dim yellow light dispelling the darkness in the room, illuminating the old house and casting light on the unease in my heart.
I began to meticulously search every room and every corner, leaving no stone unturned.
I rummaged through drawers and cabinets, my fingers gliding over the dust-covered wooden surfaces, leaving faint traces behind.
I even took out some old books and documents to examine them closely; the yellowed pages rustled softly as if whispering secrets from the past.
Time ticked away second by second, the old clock emitting a dull ticking sound that seemed to urge me on while mocking my futile efforts.
Yet still, I had not found Jiang Yao's diary.
I felt a bit weary, my body heavy as if filled with lead, but I did not give up.
I walked into my grandmother's room and looked around once more.
Her room was small and simply furnished: an old wooden bed, a wardrobe with peeling paint, and a weathered vanity. It seemed unlikely that any secrets were hidden here.
Yet I decided to search again, just in case Jiang Yao's diary was tucked away somewhere.
I approached the wardrobe and opened the door with a creak. A faint scent of camphor wafted out, mingling with the musty smell of aged wood, making me feel slightly suffocated.
Inside hung some of my grandmother's old clothes, outdated in style and dull in color, exuding a subtle camphor fragrance.
I took each piece out one by one, carefully feeling the fabric, hoping to find a clue, but still no sign of Jiang Yao's diary.
With a sigh, disappointment and frustration filled my heart. Just as I was about to close the wardrobe door, my gaze fell to the bottom of the cabinet.
There was a hidden compartment, small and easily overlooked if one didn’t pay close attention.
The edges of the compartment blended almost seamlessly with the color of the wardrobe; if I hadn’t crouched down to examine it closely, I might have missed it entirely.
A surge of excitement coursed through me. Could Jiang Yao's diary be hidden here?
An inexplicable thrill spread within me as I seemed to glimpse a glimmer of hope.
I crouched down and pulled open the compartment with force, my fingers trembling slightly from the effort.
Inside lay an old wooden box, intricately carved with elaborate patterns resembling some ancient totem, exuding an air of mystery.
I cautiously opened the Wooden Box, revealing a diary and a set of ancient keys inside.
The cover of the diary had yellowed with age, and the edges of the pages curled, as if they had endured the passage of time. Neatly inscribed on the cover were the words "Jiang Yao's Diary."
A jolt ran through me. Could this be Jiang Yao's diary?
I picked up the diary and opened to the first page, a faint musty smell wafting toward me.
The first entry read: "In the thirty-seventh year of the Republic of China, on the seventh day of July, I arrived at this old residence..."
I continued to flip through the pages, which detailed Jiang Yao's life after arriving at the old house, as well as her interactions with her family.
I became engrossed, as if I had been transported back to that era filled with turmoil and unrest, experiencing Jiang Yao's joys and sorrows, her hopes and fears.
Suddenly, I came across a passage that sent a chill down my spine: "I feel as if something in this old house is watching me, making me uneasy..."
My heart raced, the sound echoing loudly in the stillness of the room. I sensed a sudden drop in temperature, a wave of cold creeping from my feet to the top of my head.
I looked up and glanced around, only to see a shadow standing behind me.
(End of Chapter)
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