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墨書 Inktalez
In ancient times, there was a mountain with a name that exuded power, called Di Shan. Although the emperor was not present, the mountain was lush and vibrant, home to a miraculous herb known as Du Heng. This herb could make horses run faster and cure tumors in humans. A strange beast resided by the creek nearby; it resembled a dog and could climb trees. It was said that using its fur to make bedding would protect those who slept on it from poison and malevolent spirits. However, this creature was elusive, and even Qin De Gong, the ruler of a great nation, could not find it. In desperation, he resorted to killing several large dogs that resembled the beast outside the city to ward off evil spirits. Surprisingly, this trick worked, and thus the practice of using Dog Blood to repel evil became a custom passed down through generations, becoming a popular tool for exorcising ghosts.
The burial did not take place on an auspicious day. Firstly, there was no prominent figure in the deceased's family, and secondly, having six black coffins sitting in the village for too long felt inappropriate. After some discussion, the village chief and several elders decided that an early burial would bring peace of mind. Strangely enough, it had never been bright there; it was always gloomy. A few young men with robust builds carried the six coffins along the path up the mountain to a secluded area. Along the way, they stepped over loose stones and thorny weeds; even the village chief struggled to climb while holding onto a handrail, but those carrying the coffins seemed unfazed, as if they were born for this task.
The burial pit was quickly dug according to village customs. Atop the pit's edge, a mirror had to be hung on a brick to protect against malevolent spirits and greet any wandering ghosts, letting them know that this house already had an owner.
The six bodies were buried in order of age. The workers were hired hands from outside while the village chief and two elders watched from behind, puffing on their old pipes. At that moment, a figure slowly appeared in the mirror at the top of the pit. It was an old lady with bound feet, hands tucked into her deep blue floral cotton jacket, hunched over as she walked past the mirror.
The village chief turned pale with fear; he held back a puff of smoke that burned his throat without releasing it. His eyes were fixed on the mirror—wasn't that the deceased? The body was still in the coffin; they hadn't even completed the first seven days of mourning yet! How could she possibly be passing by?
The other two elders also witnessed this scene and were frozen in shock. Just as they were about to cover the pit with soil, one bald elder suddenly took a deep drag from his pipe and wedged it under his armpit while rubbing his hands together. "I’m Old Li... what do we do?"
Everyone was startled by this unexpected voice coming from behind them in such a desolate place; their actions froze as they turned to look at Old Li—the village chief.
Finally remembering to exhale smoke rings, Old Li glared at the burial pit and spat: "Damn it! This is strange! I’ve lived this long without seeing a ghost; today’s going to be an eye-opener for everyone! Whether it's human or ghost, let’s dig it up and see!"
Everyone was taken aback; he wanted to unearth the grave! Another thin elder shook his bony legs and shivered violently as if about to collapse. The bald elder shot him a glare and spat again: "Old Li is right! We have so many people here; what are you afraid of?" He then turned to the young men: "You all listen carefully—no matter if it's human or ghost, dig quickly!"
The leader of the funeral procession wiped his sweat and replied: "We can dig it up, but you need to pay more!"
This did seem like price gouging; Old Li's eyebrows knitted together in annoyance just as he was about to scold him when the village chief waved him off and told the leader: "We’ll pay more; just dig."
Strangely enough, while most people would be terrified in such situations, those young men appeared completely unfazed as they dug up the grave like they were tilling soil. Before long, they reached Old Lady Li's coffin and pulled it out.
The thin elder had already collapsed in fear on the ground while Old Li and another elder approached with their pipes in hand. This coffin had been personally nailed shut by a previous village chief; even its long nails gleamed new—no one had ever opened it before. Old Li nodded at the young men who then positioned their tools at each corner of the coffin lid; with a loud crack, the nails were pried open. With everyone lending a hand together, they pushed back the dark coffin lid.
At that moment, an eerie wind suddenly whipped through the hollow of the mountain, making it hard for anyone to keep their eyes open. They heard sounds all around them resembling footsteps—everyone's hearts raced with dread. If it were indeed human footsteps, that would be fine; what they feared most was something unclean lurking nearby. Suddenly there was a loud crash that made everyone jump; cold sweat dripped down their backs—thankfully no one fainted yet—but some bolder individuals peeked through squinted eyes only to realize it was just one of the coffin boards falling off. They collectively sighed in relief.
The thin elder could not see what happened behind him; upon hearing that noise he panicked and began shouting while rolling down the mountain like a tumbleweed. The village chief called after him but couldn’t stop him; he fled faster than a rabbit, kicking up dust until he vanished from sight.
After cursing under his breath, Old Li turned back to examine the coffin again. At this point, the wind had ceased and so had any sound of footsteps; everything around them fell eerily silent except for their racing hearts. Gathering their courage together, they leaned closer only to feel chills run down their spines—inside lay not Old Lady Li but rather a pile of white bones! Her clothes had completely rotted away; only a few teeth remained intact while her hair grew wild and grayish-white covering her face—a clear sign she had been dead for many years yet her body appeared no larger than that of a six or seven-year-old child.
Everyone stood frozen in terror; how could this decayed corpse have been buried only recently? It must have been decades since death claimed her life! Yet no one had ever opened this coffin… None of those present had encountered anything like this before—the funeral procession included a boy who played a horn whose terrified notes changed pitch as he continued playing uncontrollably.
However, Old Li remained calm despite his experience with life's storms over many years; knowing that panicking would only worsen matters helped him regain composure first among them all. He placed his pipe back into his belt and urged everyone not to panic but instead set up offerings before the coffin while burning plenty of paper money—muttering prayers under his breath before concluding: “It’s hard for outsiders to meddle in family affairs—Old Lady Li—you handle your matters below.” With that said he led everyone back hastily filling in dirt over her coffin before descending down from that mountain where no one ever spoke of this incident again.
This story was told to me by my master, who was the boy playing the horn in the funeral procession back then. Ever since I heard this story, I have been having strange dreams every few days. In these dreams, there is a mirror and a bathtub, and in the bathtub sits a hunched old lady, facing away from me, doing nothing at all.
Naturally, I do not believe in ghosts or deities; one cannot have such fears in our line of work. You may have heard of a certain type of person in this world—agile and skilled individuals who specialize in handling difficult tasks for others, requiring only a fair payment afterward.
These individuals are known in the industry as Professional Errand Runners.
The practice of being an Errand Runner can be traced back to the Spring and Autumn Period and the Warring States Period in China. By the time of the Song and Yuan dynasties, it had gradually developed and split into Old School and New School. The Old School relies solely on running errands, with disciples forbidden from pursuing other professions; they often operate in secluded areas, accepting many apprentices under strict regulations. In contrast, the New School embraces reform, encouraging disciples to integrate into society and keep pace with the times. As a result, the New School is generally more dispersed and lacks rigid hierarchical structures.
My master belongs to the New School. After graduating from university, my junior brother and I returned to our hometown of Luoyang and opened an Antique Shop on an old street behind Li Jing Gate. Luoyang is known as the Ancient Capital of Nine Dynasties, so our Antique Shop has some business due to its location in a tourist area; we see thousands of visitors daily. However, we do not rely on this for income; otherwise, we would have starved long ago.
Recently, we were stocking new merchandise as summer vacation approached, bringing more student customers. The summer heat in Luoyang is especially intense; if you go out shirtless for a run, you can come back smelling like cooked protein. I once encouraged my junior brother to do just that.
Just as I was thinking about this, the octagonal wind chime at the door jingled, signaling that someone had entered the shop—but it wasn’t just any customer.
“Master, what brings you here?” My junior brother noticed first and quickly set down the High-footed Nightlight Cup to pour tea.
I shot him a glance while getting up from my armchair to clear a seat for my master. After seeing off two customers and hanging up the closed sign, I finally sat down in front of him.
It wasn’t that I was overly cautious; it’s just that my master is naturally free-spirited and enjoys wandering around. As apprentices, we rarely see him throughout the year. In my memory, every time we meet is usually because he has something important to discuss with us—often related to our work.
My master took the Bi Luo Chun tea my junior brother offered him, lifted the lid to smell it briefly before placing it aside on a low table. “There’s work.”
My heart tightened; I had guessed correctly. According to our usual practice, we have specific channels for receiving jobs without needing to disturb my master; his personal visit indicated that this task might be unusual. My junior brother also sensed something was off and sat down next to me.
My master pulled out a map from his backpack along with a bank card. “Follow this map to find an ancient book.”
I knew that the card contained a deposit and took the map from him. It turned out to be hand-drawn on leather with an indelible ink—like an original version. Rarely do employers provide us with originals; either they are lacking common sense or are pressed for time and haven’t had a chance to make copies.
After examining it closely, I quickly realized it was a map of Luoyang, with our target location situated in the northeastern part of the city. Anyone familiar with history knows that area contains the Mausoleum Group. Who would need to go into a tomb complex to retrieve something? And who would leave something there? I hoped I was overthinking it.
My junior brother glanced at the map and exclaimed, “Mangshan? Another ancient book? Master, are we going for Downsizing this time?”
“Stop joking!” I shot him a glare; although I shared his concern internally, running errands is fundamentally different from Downsizing. Besides, my master wouldn’t act so recklessly. I continued asking, “Master, what kind of book is it?”
My master simply shook his head gently. “You’ll know when you get there. You have ten hours; your equipment is ready. You must set off immediately.”
I was taken aback. Although this was not our first time taking on such urgent work, and typically, in these situations, the compensation would be significantly higher than usual, especially since business at the shop had been poor lately and my junior brother had been working hard to manage things. It was indeed time for us to take on a job like this. However, this time, I couldn't feel any excitement; instead, I felt a vague sense of unease. When accepting a job, aside from the intermediary, the target of the task must be clear—just like driving requires a steering wheel, and practicing courage requires watching horror films.
I glanced at my junior brother and saw him squinting at me, his gaze fleetingly darting toward the bank card. He raised an eyebrow. I knew where his thoughts were; he was probably itching for some action again. I couldn't be bothered with him and said to our master, "Don't worry, Master. We will definitely complete the mission."
The master nodded and suddenly sat up straight. I knew what he was about to say was the real reason for his visit: "However, this task might not be so easy. You must be especially cautious with the exchange; remember to adapt to any situation." He paused before adding, "Also, when we arrive at Ma Ti Kou, another person will join you. This time you will act together."
In our line of work, we usually operated independently. There had never been a collaboration like this—not because the compensation was hard to divide but because people like us lived underground. The more jobs we took on, the more secrets we learned. Therefore, there was usually a very reliable intermediary between us and our employers—like our master—so that both parties felt secure. Hearing this from our master left both my junior brother and me stunned; however, his expression did not seem to indicate he was joking.
"Damn!" my junior brother exclaimed as he glanced at the bank card. "Doesn't that mean—" Before he could finish his sentence, the master waved his hand to stop him: "The situation this time is a bit special, but you can rest assured about safety."
I felt anxious inside. While we could absolutely trust our master's safety protocols regarding jobs he took on, who exactly was this additional person? What were their skills? Would they just be a burden that my junior brother and I had to look after? It seemed obvious that they would just slow us down.
The master seemed to read my thoughts and relaxed a bit as he took a sip of Bi Luo Chun tea before cryptically saying to us, "I don't know much about their background; all I know is they are from the Old School."
Upon hearing this, I felt relieved. The Old School had strict rules and exceptional skills; each member was top-notch. They typically looked down on us New School practitioners. However, this realization soon led me to worry again. My junior brother was excited; having lived in Central Plains for so long and working independently, we had rarely had the chance to interact with Old School members. We had heard plenty of tales about them akin to legends; my junior brother was eager to learn some skills or at least broaden his horizons.
After some idle chatter, we packed a few commonly used items and set off.
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