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Midnight Zither Curse: Centennial Festival Spirit of Yun Lai Inn
墨書 Inktalez
Every night at midnight, an eerie sound of a guqin would echo through the inn. It wasn't until I discovered that the musician had died ten years ago that I felt a chill run down my spine.
As I pushed open the weathered wooden door of the inn, darkness had already settled in. The mist in the mountains enveloped the ancient building in a shroud of haziness. The signboard of the inn swayed gently in the wind, creaking softly, while the characters "Yun Lai Inn" had faded, with dark green moss creeping along the edges.
"Welcome, do you need a meal or a room?" A hoarse voice came from behind the counter, drawing my attention to an elderly man hunched over. He wore a faded Gray Robe, and an eye patch covered his right eye; his remaining left eye was cloudy and lifeless, yet it fixed its gaze on me intently.
"I'll take a room," I said instinctively avoiding his stare, placing my luggage on the ground. "A quiet one, please."
The old man retrieved a brass key from a drawer, its surface covered in verdigris. "Second Floor Innermost Room," he said. "It's the quietest."
I took the key from him, feeling its coldness against my fingertips. There seemed to be dark red stains on it that I couldn't wipe away no matter how hard I tried.
The staircase creaked ominously with each step I took, echoing through the dim corridor. The room at the end of the hall was darker than the others, with intricate carvings on its doorframe that resembled twisted human faces rather than ordinary flowers.
Inside, the furnishings were simple: a wooden bed, a table, and a chair. A yellowed ancient painting hung on the wall, depicting a woman in white playing the guqin. For some reason, her face was blurred, as if stained by water.
I set down my luggage and was about to rest when suddenly, I heard the sound of the guqin again. It was distant yet ethereal, carrying an indescribable sorrow as if it came from far away or perhaps right beside me. I glanced at my watch; it was exactly midnight.
The music lasted for about fifteen minutes before fading away. Lying in bed, sleep eluded me as that haunting melody lingered in my ears, wrapped in an unsettling aura.
The next morning as I descended the stairs, I saw the owner polishing the counter. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were caressing something precious.
"Boss, about last night's music..." I ventured cautiously.
His hand froze abruptly, and a strange glint flashed in his single eye. "You must have misheard; there’s no music in this inn."
"But I clearly—"
"Sir," he interrupted coldly, "some things are better left unknown."
I swallowed hard and fell silent. But deep down, I knew that the music was no mere illusion.
For several nights following that encounter, precisely at midnight, the guqin would play again. Sometimes it was the mournful "Guangling San," other times it was the lamenting "Hu Jia Shiba Pai." Each piece resonated deeply yet carried an inexplicable eeriness.
On the fourth night, I resolved to uncover the truth.
When the music began once more, I quietly opened my door and stepped out. The corridor was pitch black except for moonlight filtering through broken window panes, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
The sound seemed to emanate from the backyard. Following it cautiously through the long hallway, each step on the stairs made faint noises that quickened my heartbeat with fear of being discovered by the owner.
The backyard was much larger than I'd imagined, overgrown with grass nearly waist-high. In one corner stood a solitary small house; that was where the music originated.
I held my breath and slowly approached. The door of the small cabin was slightly ajar, and a flickering oil lamp illuminated the interior, casting a dim yellow light through the crack.
Peering through the gap, I saw an ancient guqin. Its body was as black as ink, and the strings glimmered with a chilling sheen under the moonlight. But what sent shivers down my spine was that no one was seated before the guqin, yet the strings trembled as if an invisible hand were plucking them.
I gasped in shock and stepped back, accidentally stepping on a dry twig. With a crack, the sound of the guqin abruptly ceased.
I turned to flee but collided with someone behind me.
It was the owner.
He stood behind me, his single eye gleaming with an eerie light. "I told you, some things are better left unknown," he said, his voice hoarse and cold.
I wanted to escape, but my legs felt as heavy as lead, unable to move. The owner slowly raised the oil lamp in his hand, and its light illuminated his face, revealing a visage lined with deep wrinkles that appeared particularly sinister in the interplay of light and shadow.
"Since you've seen it, you might as well stay and keep her company," he said, pulling a dagger from his sleeve.
At that moment, the guqin began to play again. This time, the sound was sharp and piercing, like the wails of vengeful spirits. Suddenly, the oil lamp extinguished, plunging everything into darkness.
Seizing the opportunity, I turned and ran but heard the owner's scream behind me. I dared not look back and ran desperately until I burst out of the inn.
The next day, I returned to the inn with the police. The owner had vanished; all that remained in the Qin Room was a skeleton. The coroner stated that the skeleton had been dead for at least ten years.
While clearing the scene, the police discovered a yellowed newspaper embedded in the wall of the Qin Room. The paper contained a news article from ten years ago: renowned guqin player Lin Yue Ru and her family were murdered at Yun Lai Inn, and the killer had never been caught.
As I gazed at Lin Yue Ru's photograph in the newspaper, I suddenly recalled the ancient painting in the room. The woman in white in that painting—wasn't she Lin Yue Ru?
Moreover, there were dark red stains on the guqin's strings. Forensic analysis confirmed they were bloodstains from ten years ago.
The police conducted a thorough search of the inn.
I stood at the entrance watching officers come and go. The mist in the mountains remained thick, shrouding this old building in an air of mystery.
"There's a hidden room here!" Suddenly, an officer shouted from within the Qin Room.
I followed him inside and saw a secret door appear on the wall. Behind it was a cramped space filled with various clutter. Most striking was an old wooden box secured with a rusty lock.
The officer pried open the lock and opened the box. Inside lay a stack of yellowed letters and some old photographs. As I leaned closer, I gasped in horror.
One photograph showed a young man standing beside a guqin with a gentle smile on his face. It was a younger version of the owner; beside him stood Lin Yue Ru.
The letters were written by Lin Yue Ru to the owner. From their contents, it was clear they had once been lovers. But what chilled me to my core was the last letter:
"I know it was you. That night, I saw your eyes. Why did you do this? We loved you so much..."
My hands began to tremble. It turned out that he was the murderer from all those years ago.
"There's also a diary here." An officer pulled out a leather-bound notebook from the box.
The diary belonged to the owner. It detailed how he planned and executed that murder. Out of jealousy for Lin Yue Ru's talent and fame, he decided to destroy everything she held dear. That night, he not only killed Lin Yue Ru but also her husband and child.
"I want her to belong to me forever." The last page of the diary read, "Her music, her soul, will remain here eternally."
At that moment, the temperature in the Qin Room suddenly plummeted. I saw the officers' breaths forming white mist in the air. The strings of the guqin began to vibrate on their own, producing a piercing sound.
"Get out of here!" an older officer shouted.
We hurriedly retreated from the Qin Room, but the music grew louder, as if it were trying to pierce our eardrums. I noticed dark red liquid seeping from the walls of the corridor, and a heavy scent of rust filled the air.
Suddenly, a chilling scream echoed from the Qin Room. We rushed back and were met with a horrifying sight: all the strings of the guqin had snapped, and deep cracks appeared on its body. On the floor in front of the guqin lay a pool of fresh blood.
"What... what is happening?" a young officer stammered.
No one answered. We stood frozen in place, staring at this supernatural scene.
Just then, my phone rang. It was a call from the forensic expert.
"We examined that skeleton," the expert's voice trembled slightly, "and found something strange."
"What strange thing?" I asked.
"The DNA of that skeleton... matches perfectly with the boss's."
I was stunned. If that skeleton belonged to the boss, then who had we been seeing these past few days?
Suddenly, I recalled the boss's missing eye. In those old photographs, he had both eyes intact when he was young. So when had he lost his eye?
I flipped through the diary carefully. Finally, on a yellowed page, I found the answer:
"That night, I only intended to kill her husband and child. But she discovered me and stabbed my eye with scissors. I had no choice... I had to kill her. But I regretted it; I truly regretted it. Ever since then, I hear her music every night. I know she will never forgive me."
I closed the diary, feeling a chill rise from my feet. If the boss had died ten years ago, then what exactly had we been seeing these past few days?
At that moment, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around to see the boss standing at the door. His single eye glowed with an eerie light, and a twisted smile curled at his lips.
"I told you," his voice was hoarse and cold, "some things are better left unknown."
I wanted to scream but couldn't make a sound. I watched as his figure began to twist and deform before finally dissolving into a cloud of black mist that vanished into thin air.
Since then, Yun Lai Inn has been permanently closed. Yet it is said that every midnight, beautiful music still echoes from within. Some say it is Lin Yue Ru searching for her lost family; others say she is waiting for her next intruder.
And I will forever remember what that one-eyed boss said: "Some things are better left unknown."
In the months following Yun Lai Inn's closure, I could not forget that experience. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could hear that haunting music and see the boss's twisted smile.
Until one day, I received an anonymous letter.
There was no signature—only a line that read: "Do you want to know the truth about Yun Lai Inn? Meet tonight at midnight."
I hesitated for a long time but ultimately decided to go. When I stood before Yun Lai Inn again, moonlight illuminated its weathered sign. The mist in the mountains was thicker than ever before, as if it were about to swallow the entire building whole.
A figure emerged from the mist. It was an old man dressed in a black trench coat, his face lined with deep wrinkles, yet his eyes were exceptionally sharp.
"I know you are investigating the Yun Lai Inn," the old man said. "I can tell you some things, but you need to be mentally prepared."
I nodded and followed the old man into the inn. He moved through the corridors with ease and led me to the Qin Room in the backyard.
"This inn," the old man began, "was built during the late Ming Dynasty. The original owner was a wealthy merchant who constructed this place for his beloved daughter. She was skilled in music, particularly in playing the guqin."
The old man pointed to an ancient painting on the wall. "This is a portrait of that young lady. But few know that she ultimately hanged herself in this very Qin Room."
I stared at the painting in shock. No wonder the woman's features were so blurred; it was not even a portrait of Lin Yue Ru.
"Since then," the old man continued, "the sound of a guqin has often been heard coming from this Qin Room. Some say it is the spirit of the young lady searching for her lover. Until ten years ago, when Lin Yue Ru stayed here."
The old man's voice suddenly turned somber. "Lin Yue Ru is not the first victim. Over the past three hundred years, at least twenty people have gone missing in this inn, and each one of them is connected to this guqin."
A chill ran down my spine. If what the old man said was true, then this guqin might indeed be the true source of the curse.
At that moment, the temperature in the Qin Room suddenly plummeted. I saw the old man's breath form white mist in the air. The strings of the guqin began to tremble on their own, producing a piercing sound.
"It senses us," the old man whispered. "It knows we are talking about it."
Suddenly, the music erupted violently. This time, it was no longer mournful but filled with anger and resentment. I watched as dark red liquid began to seep from the strings, and a heavy scent of rust filled the air.
"Run!" The old man pulled me toward the exit. But when we reached the door, it slammed shut with a bang.
The music grew louder, pounding against my eardrums painfully. I saw blood seeping from the walls of the Qin Room, and countless handprints appeared on the floor as if invisible figures were struggling.
The old man pulled an ancient key from his pocket. "This was left by that young lady long ago. Perhaps... perhaps it can end all of this."
He inserted the key into a hidden lock at the base of the guqin. With a soft click, the body of the guqin cracked open.
A plume of black smoke poured out from the crevice, forming a twisted human shape in midair. It was a woman dressed in ancient attire, her face contorted with rage and her eyes filled with hatred.
"Three hundred years," her voice rasped and shrieked, "I am finally free."
The old man trembled as he raised an amulet. "Return to where you belong!"
The female ghost let out a piercing scream and lunged at us. Just at that critical moment, another sound of music suddenly resonated through the Qin Room.
It was Lin Yue Ru's music—clear and resolute. The ghost's movements froze abruptly as a look of anguish crossed her face.
"No... impossible," she screamed. "How can you still...?"
Lin Yue Ru's figure appeared beside the guqin. Her expression was calm as her fingers gently plucked at the strings. With her music, the ghost's form began to twist and ultimately dissolved into a wisp of black mist that vanished into thin air.
The music gradually faded away, and Lin Yue Ru's figure began to grow transparent. She turned towards us, offering a gentle smile before transforming into specks of starlight that dissipated into the air.
The Qin Room returned to tranquility. The strings of the guqin were all broken, and its body was covered in cracks as if it could fall apart at any moment.
The old man let out a long sigh of relief. "It’s over. The curse that lasted three hundred years has finally ended."
I collapsed onto the ground, feeling utterly drained.
In that moment when Lin Yue Ru vanished, I caught a glimpse of something unusual in her eyes—a fleeting glimmer. And beneath the moonlight, it seemed that broken guqin still trembled slightly.
In the days following the disappearance of the female ghost, I thought everything had come to an end. Yet, every time I closed my eyes, the strange gaze of Lin Yue Ru would flash in my mind.
After a period of calm, my life was interrupted once again. One day, I received a package. Inside was an old, tattered book and a note that read: "If you wish to know the whole truth, meet at the old place tonight at midnight."
"Midnight again!"
I opened the ancient book and discovered it contained records of an ancient dark art: through a special guqin and sacrifice, one could forever imprison a person's soul.
That evening, I returned to Yun Lai Inn. The old man had been waiting there for quite some time.
"You've finally come," he said. "It's time to tell you everything."
He led me to the Qin Room and pointed at the broken guqin. "This instrument is made from a thousand-year-old Huang Mu wood. Huang Mu is the easiest material to summon souls."
The old man turned to a page in the ancient book. "Three hundred years ago, that young lady did not commit suicide. She was sacrificed by her father in pursuit of immortality."
I gasped in shock. "So Lin Yue Ru..."
"Lin Yue Ru was the second sacrifice," the old man continued. "But her soul was too powerful, suppressing that of the young lady. That is why for the past decade, we have only heard Lin Yue Ru's music."
Suddenly, I understood. "So that night..."
The old man nodded. "Lin Yue Ru's soul has not found peace. She is still searching for a way to be freed."
At that moment, a familiar melody filled the Qin Room. It was Lin Yue Ru's rendition of Guangling San.
I saw Lin Yue Ru's figure appear beside the guqin. Her features were clearer than before, her eyes filled with profound sorrow.
"Help me..." Her voice was as soft as a whisper. "Only you can help me..."
The old man suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Be careful! She doesn't want you to help her find peace; she wants to find a new host!"
I looked at Lin Yue Ru in shock. A flicker of pain crossed her eyes. "No... that's not it... I just want..."
Suddenly, the music became sharp and piercing. I watched as Lin Yue Ru's figure began to distort, her face turning grotesque.
"Three hundred years..." Her voice became hoarse and shrill. "I have finally found the perfect host..."
The old man quickly pulled out a talisman. "Quick! Recite this!"
I took the talisman and began to chant the incantation written on it. Lin Yue Ru let out a scream as her figure twisted further.
"No!" she cried out. "I don't want to disappear! I just want... to play once more..."
Her voice softened suddenly, filled with sadness. "Please... let me play one last time..."
I halted my chanting. The old man shouted anxiously, "Don't stop! She's deceiving you!"
But looking into Lin Yue Ru's sorrowful eyes, I suddenly understood something. I approached the guqin and gently stroked its strings.
"Let me help you," I said softly. "Just this once."
Lin Yue Ru's figure became clearer again. She sat before the guqin, her fingers delicately plucking its strings. This time, the music was no longer mournful but filled with tranquility and release.
As the last note faded away, Lin Yue Ru's figure began to turn transparent. She turned to me, revealing a gentle smile. "Thank you." Then, she transformed into specks of starlight and dissipated into the air.
The Qin Room returned to silence. The strings of the guqin had all snapped, and the instrument itself lay shattered.
The old man sighed deeply. "You did it. The curse that lasted for three hundred years has finally come to an end."
In the weeks following Lin Yue Ru's disappearance, I tried to return to a normal life. But every time I closed my eyes, the vanished ancient text and the glimmers from the broken guqin would surface in my mind.
Then one day, I received a letter with no postmark. It contained only one sentence: "Do you think everything is over? Meet at the old place tonight at midnight."
"Endless!!!"
When I stood once more in front of Yun Lai Inn, a figure emerged from the mist. It was a middle-aged man in a black robe, his face bearing an eerie calmness.
"I know you are searching for the truth," he said. "I can tell you some things, but you must be prepared for what you hear."
I followed him into the inn. He navigated the corridors with ease, leading me to the Qin Room in the backyard.
The sight inside the Qin Room shocked me: the shattered guqin was miraculously restored, its strings gleaming with a chilling light.
"How... how is this possible?" I stammered.
The man did not answer but instead pulled an ancient text from his robe. It was indeed the book that recorded dark sorcery.
"Three hundred years ago," he began, "the young lady's father did not seek immortality. He sought to resurrect his deceased wife."
He opened a page in the ancient text. "But he failed; his wife's soul was trapped within this guqin, and his daughter became the sacrifice."
A chill ran down my spine. If what he said was true, then Lin Yue Ru might not have been the second sacrifice.
"Lin Yue Ru was the seventh," the man continued. "Before her, five innocent people had already become sacrifices. And your 'old man' is a descendant of that young lady's father."
I stared at him in shock. "That old man..."
"He has been searching for the perfect host," the man said, "and you are his next chosen target."
Just as I prepared to run, a sudden blow struck me on the back of my head.
Darkness.
Endless darkness.
I felt myself floating in that void; faint sounds of qin music seemed to echo around me, mingling with whispers of wind. My consciousness flickered between clarity and haze.
I don't know how long it lasted until I felt blinding light. Struggling to open my eyes, I found myself lying on a simple hospital bed. The white ceiling and smell of disinfectant confirmed that I was in a hospital.
I tried to sit up but was met with sharp pain at the back of my head. Memories surged like a tide: the inn, the guqin, Lin Yue Ru, that mysterious man… and then that final blow.
"You’re awake."
A nurse entered and seemed relieved to see me conscious.
"I... how did I end up here?" I managed to ask, my throat dry and scratchy.
"A man brought you here," the nurse said as she checked my IV line. "He said you fell on the mountain and hit your head."
An old man? My heart tightened suddenly.
"What... what did he look like?" I asked.
"He was wearing an eye patch," the nurse replied. "He seemed very kind. He comes to see you every day; he just left this morning."
I felt the blood in my veins freeze. That old man... he was still here!
"Can... can you show me the latest news?" I asked, trembling.
The nurse hesitated for a moment but then turned on the television in the room.
Local news was playing: "...after police investigation, the owner of Yun Lai Inn is suspected of multiple missing persons cases. It is reported that at least five travelers have mysteriously disappeared from this inn over the past ten years..."
The scene shifted to the exterior of the inn, where I saw police officers coming in and out. Suddenly, the camera captured a shot of the backyard: several officers were pulling something from an ancient well.
"...multiple remains were found in the backyard of the inn, with initial assessments indicating a death span of over ten years. Shockingly, next to one of the remains was found..."
My breath nearly stopped. On the screen, a familiar ancient book was inside an evidence bag; I would never forget the patterns on its cover.
"...a book documenting some sort of dark sorcery. The police suspect that these missing persons cases may be related to some kind of cult ritual..."
I stared intently at the television screen and suddenly noticed a figure flash in the corner of the frame. The old man with the Black Eye Patch stood among the crowd, grinning eerily at the camera.
Just then, the door to my room swung open.
I turned sharply to see the mysterious man standing in the doorway. His face was pale, and he held a black package in his hands.
"You’re finally awake," he said. "We need to leave here quickly."
"Why?" I asked warily.
The man didn’t answer but opened the package he was holding. Inside was an ancient dagger and several yellowed pages.
"Because," he whispered, "you have been chosen. The ritual only needs one last step..."
Before he could finish his sentence, footsteps suddenly echoed down the hallway. They were soft but rhythmic, like some ancient cadence.
Thud, thud, thud.
My heart nearly stopped. Those footsteps... they sounded exactly like those heard every night at midnight in the inn.
The man quickly shoved the package into my hands. "Take this and use the emergency exit. Remember, don’t trust anyone..."
His words were cut off abruptly. I saw his eyes widen suddenly before he slowly collapsed. Behind him stood the old man with the Black Eye Patch, holding a bloodied stick.
"I told you," the old man said with a twisted smile, "some things are better left unknown."
I wanted to scream but couldn’t make a sound. I saw him raise his stick, and at that last moment, I caught a glimpse outside: under the moonlight, towards Yun Lai Inn, it seemed as if a faint melody floated through the air...
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