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墨書 Inktalez
Song Bunan leaned against his brother's shoulder and fell asleep as soon as he got into the car, not waking up until the vehicle came to a stop. The driver, Xin Yi, glanced at the two brothers in the rearview mirror and noticed how much they resembled each other. However, his long-time friend appeared more mature and composed than Song Bunan, with a more rugged appearance; the younger brother had a rounder face with a bit of baby fat, and combined with his light weight and skinny frame, it was easy to understand why Song Buxian often joked that his brother could deceive people just with his looks.
"His personality is a bit better than yours," Xin Yi remarked casually.
Song Buxian took a moment to process this seemingly random comment. Unable to reach over to hit him from across the seat, he shot back, "You've only known him for a few minutes and you're already biased. Are your elbows rotating?" Noticing that Xin Yi remained unfazed by his retort, Song Buxian reached out to check the temperature of Song Bunan's small head, relieved to find that he was beginning to cool down from his fever.
He pulled out a water bottle from his bag, trying to wake Song Bunan so he could drink some water before heading home to sleep. The car had already parked in the garage, and Xin Yi had turned on the lights to brighten the interior. Turning around to look at the dazed Song Bunan, who seemed ready to drift off again with half-closed eyes, he saw the child clutching the bottle tightly, struggling to sip from it. With cheeks puffed out from holding water and a dazed expression complemented by his cartoon cat hoodie, Song Bunan made Xin Yi inexplicably happy.
"We're home; time to go upstairs and sleep," Song Buxian said as he shook his brother's head gently. Hearing the sloshing sound of water inside the bottle made him quip, "I can hear the water in your head. Were you messing around in that abandoned house last night?"
Song Bunan pulled his head away with a humph, now fully awake. "I'm not scared! It was just uncomfortable because there was so much dirt inside. I even met Xiao Mei, who manages that place. He said I could go play there anytime."
A dangerous building still had someone managing it? Both Song Buxian and Xin Yi frowned at this thought. After getting out of the car, Xin Yi followed Song Buxian upstairs. Due to the bandages wrapped around him, Song Bunan leaned against his brother in an odd manner. Xin Yi asked, "Does it hurt?"
The shorter boy looked up at him with wide eyes and smiled. "I'm used to it! Besides, it didn't split open much this time, so it doesn't hurt." From this angle, he appeared quite young; the elevator lights reflected in his eyes beautifully.
Seeing this scene, Song Buxian immediately took out his phone and snapped a few pictures without hesitation. No matter the reason behind it, these photos would serve as great material for teasing Xin Yi later. Once they reached home, Song Bunan dashed back to his room to change clothes while Xin Yi and Song Buxian sat outside drinking water. Checking the time revealed it was nearly eight in the evening.
"Aren't you supposed to have moved out?" Xin Yi asked while squeezing his bottle as he watched Song Buxian, who seemed engrossed in something on his phone with a grin stretching almost ear-to-ear. When questioned, he didn’t look up but continued tapping on his phone while replying, "After our parents went out to play, I temporarily moved back here to keep him company. I was worried about leaving this little guy alone at home; I might get called back by the police if something happened."
"Your brother doesn't seem like that kind of person," Xin Yi's comment finally pulled Song Buxian's attention away from his phone. He smiled mysteriously but was interrupted by Song Bunan exclaiming, "I'm not that foolish! Last time when you and our parents went out for over half a month, I stayed home just fine!"
When he emerged from changing clothes this time, instead of a hoodie featuring a giant cartoon cat, he wore one with a cartoon Shiba Inu instead. Song Buxian pinched his ear playfully and dragged him over to the sofa before letting go and giving him a light smack on the head. "How can you say that? Who was it that didn't realize their wound had reopened and went swimming during that half-month period only to faint at school?"
Defeated, Song Bunan pouted pitifully on the sofa without saying anything more; he simply rubbed his ear while making soft noises of protest. Xin Yi felt that this kid resembled the Shiba Inu on his shirt—cute in appearance but soft-hearted like a Samoyed. He handed over a cup of water from the table and received a beaming smile along with a sticky-sweet "thank you" in return.
Just like a little puppy.
Xiao Mei stood on the second floor, feeling a pang of sadness as he looked at the dusty corridor on the right side. He raised his hand and swept down a cobweb with a broomstick while gazing at the sunlight streaming through the window at the end of the hallway. Trembling slightly, he spoke softly: "Master, it's been three years; why would you rather meet a stranger than see me?"
In the empty house, only his voice echoed back; outside, birds chirped faintly but were hard to hear clearly. Putting away his tools slowly, he descended the stairs and approached a moon painting hanging by the floor-to-ceiling window. Xiao Mei reached out to touch several black smudges drawn with crayon along its edge.
Song Bunan was the first person targeted by house ghost in this house; he was also the one who called for help from his master when in danger. His arrival had caused this long-dormant painting to display its abilities once more. Why could someone fresh out of school who knew nothing about this place bring life back into this long-dead house? Xiao Mei couldn't articulate why but felt deep down that Song Bunan held the key to finding answers.
The message sent that morning received no reply until nightfall; whoever was on the other end always seemed busy and replied only with brief messages saying they'd return soon.
Thinking about this made Xiao Mei lick his slightly dry lips; he realized he couldn't wait for them to come back before taking action. Although involving an innocent person in these matters felt wrong, right now he saw only one opportunity for breakthrough—he might as well embrace being bad all along.
Grabbing his backpack and putting on his hat, Xiao Mei left the small second-floor apartment. Standing at the door, he messaged someone for pickup before heading directly up to the third floor of the big house.
Now he needed to confirm whether that note mentioned by Song Bunan was still there or not. The note bearing Dragon Garden's emblem lay atop a round table; it either belonged to Master or was left behind by someone who lived here years ago. Finding this note would reveal what other areas of this villa remained uninvestigated.
The side of this house shown to Song Bunan would never appear before him—the flashlight hidden in desk drawers, shadows that closed doors behind him, black mist lingering in second-floor corridors, including balcony doors inscribed with seals on the third floor—these were things he'd never seen during his three years here.
Standing in front of the open door on the third floor, he saw the blue house ghost sitting on an old rocking chair, rhythmically swaying back and forth. The creaking sound of the chair echoed through the room. As soon as he stepped inside, the house ghost vanished in an instant, leaving only the chair to slowly come to a stop.
On the table lay a piece of paper, yellowed and brittle. However, there was nothing written on it, just a single drop of ink that had spread across the surface. He tried to pick up the paper, but as soon as it left the table, it crumbled into fragments; he was left holding only a corner, its golden embellishments now covered in gray.
In his eyes, this house contained only those ghosts hiding from him out of fear, and the house ghost seemed to possess some semblance of life. Yet the house itself, which should have been alive, disdainfully refused to reveal anything to him.
Why was it that this place, which should have felt more familiar to him, pushed him away—both his master and the house? Xiao Mei stood at the table, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in frustration, but his anger dissipated within seconds. He knew all too well that this was all his own doing.
Time was running short; Xiao Mei left the place, ensuring all doors were closed behind him as he walked outside. Once he stood completely outside the decaying Corroded Iron Gate, it slowly closed shut, and the entire courtyard faded into darkness under the moonlight.
The person in the car saw him emerge from the path and laughed, "Hey, you actually decided to come out. What’s up? Not practicing inside anymore?"
Nodding served as his response. Once in the car, he immediately showed this person a photo of Song Bunan on his phone. Xiao Mei didn’t say much; he got straight to the point about why he had come to town: "I’m here to investigate him."
Only when they hit the highway did streetlights illuminate their path. Xiao Mei gazed at the road stretching into the distance, connecting to a bustling city. He realized it had been nearly two years since he last returned to this city.
The driver cranked up the music so loud that even the car windows shook with the beat. Xiao Mei heard many questions but waited until the driver fell silent before explaining his reason for coming out.
He recounted everything that had happened with Song Bunan. The driver chuckled, "This guy named Song is really something! I bet our boss will like him. Xiao Mei, you’re quite lucky; just yesterday our boss said this matter couldn’t be delayed any longer—he even mentioned bringing back that old man if necessary—and today you find someone who can help. Do you already have his contact information? If you do, get in touch with him first thing tomorrow morning and bring him home to explain everything clearly so he can help you out; time is running short."
Just then, he received information about Song Bunan on his phone. Taking a moment to decompress, Xiao Mei replied, "Yeah, time is indeed short."
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