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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Sixteen
The refrigerator was nearly filled with the intentions of his parents. Song Bunan collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted; the energy he had saved up from a night’s rest was completely drained after half an hour of tidying up the house. He opened his phone, deciding to check on work matters before looking for any news.
He had helped arrange over a hundred requests from relatives and friends for burning offerings, and a few had already sent him the money. He replied to each one, assuring them that he would take care of it tonight. After confirming there were no new orders, he posted an update in his social circle, letting everyone know that he was currently busy with other matters and not taking on any new requests.
Before heading out to buy the items for the offerings, he decided to take another nap. Wrapped in a blanket, he lay comfortably on the sofa, but fatigue hit him hard, and he fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.
In his dream, it was nighttime. He stood behind the bar in his shop, holding a familiar lantern, while four figures cloaked in black hovered before him, their bodies shrouded in dark mist that obscured their details.
The Ghost Messenger rarely contacted him during the day. Curious, Song Bunan asked why they had appeared so suddenly this time. The four spoke in unison, their voices descending from above, making it difficult to discern who was speaking. However, based on years of interaction, he recognized that only one among them was the Ghost Messenger he frequently communicated with.
The Ghost Messenger's voice was monotonous, reminiscent of poorly programmed AI speech. Fortunately, they spoke slowly and clearly enough that he could mentally rearrange the words to understand their message.
At that moment, the four figures shared a significant piece of news: more than a decade ago, during the turmoil that stripped Underworld Messenger of much of its power, several key players were supported by the Ghost Messenger. To this day, some of those Ghost Messengers had vanished without a trace. Recently, chaos had erupted below; these figures had received backing from higher-ups and sought his help to investigate where these related Ghost Messengers might be found.
Song Bunan covered his mouth in disbelief at such juicy gossip. He pinched his thigh to keep calm and pondered where to begin.
“Laboratory. Survive.”
He woke up with a start from his excited scream, lying on the sofa like a fish flopping on land, shaking his head and tail wildly to release the pent-up energy within him. Song Bunan felt an overwhelming urge to sing out loud, wanting to open the window and blast music.
What is luck! What does it mean to gain without effort! What does it mean for wishes to come true! The immense stroke of fortune made him numb to any pain as he continued to twist and turn.
Fortunately, amidst his overwhelming joy, he retained some rationality and asked the Ghost Messengers if he could share this news with a few close friends—specifically no more than five people around him. The Ghost Messenger generously agreed as long as it didn’t spread widely.
“I don’t care about that!” Song Bunan immediately called Xiao Mei without considering that she might still be asleep. “They even told me I could apply for their temporary assistance! This is life-saving! If they can tell me what those defectors from Underworld know about this matter, wouldn’t they also inform the laboratory? Wow, the Ghost Messengers are truly naive! Alright, stop sleeping! I’m going out to buy paper offerings; see you at our shop tonight. This gossip is guaranteed fresh and ripe. Shui Su should come too! I want to hear what version is circulating in Underworld Messenger ’s circles.”
Not only did Song Bunan buy paper offerings but also a large amount of food. He happily prepared packages at the shop, imagining how many delicious treats would be available during tonight's gathering. This was far more explosive than anything his brother had heard; with this connection, investigating further would save him so much trouble.
Preparing packages required special envelopes; the special paper bought from the City God Temple needed to be folded into the required sizes for each item. Skilled worker Song Bunan sat on the floor, quickly folding and sticking according to how many orders there were while carefully writing down recipients' names. He preferred using a brush pen for writing packages; dipping it into ink mixed with cinnabar produced beautiful characters that shimmered slightly red under light.
When Xiao Mei stepped into the shop, she saw familiar stacks of paper offerings along with two adorable child figures among them. The friend who called her over for gossip was diligently sealing packages when she was greeted by a pile of package paper. “Hurry up and fold; once we finish burning these, we can enjoy our gossip.”
Had she known there would be work involved upon arrival, she would have waited until dark before coming over. Xiao Mei shot Song Bunan an annoyed glare but then obediently sat down to help her friend continue working.
Seeing him come alone, Song Bunan curiously stretched his neck to look outside and asked why Shui Su was not there. "He was called away suddenly, said there was an urgent matter. Isn't our gossip enough for the two of us? Why call him?"
Song Bunan raised his hand to pat him, saying he was being unhelpful. "Shui Su must have some other perspective on the gossip; if we summarize it, we can piece together the whole picture."
This comment earned an eye roll from Xiao Mei, who ended the topic with a long, exaggerated spitting sound.
"Speaking of which, what can the Underworld Messenger do with the lab? Using soul-catching abilities to create mindless beings—what's the point? And why did the Ghost Messenger join in? They only told me to investigate thoroughly but didn’t provide any details. The Ghost Messenger is so stingy; they entrust me with such a big task without mentioning compensation or specifics. How am I supposed to proceed?"
Initially just complaining about the lack of clues making his job difficult, Song Bunan suddenly felt a fire ignite in his heart as he thought about the issue of compensation. He tried to take advantage of the fact that it was just the two of them to vent his frustrations about the Ghost Messenger. "They still haven't settled the last task they asked me to help with, and now they're throwing this huge thing at me. I even reminded them this morning, but they completely ignored me."
He wasn't greedy; he just felt that his efforts deserved some reward. If they wanted to take advantage of him, they could go find his brother instead. He was simply dissatisfied with being treated like free labor. However, Xiao Mei paid no attention to his grievances and calmly wrapped paper for a fire, occasionally smirking at his incessant chatter.
"When I find out something in a couple of days, I won't tell them first; I'll demand payment upfront! This is a losing deal; I won't accept it!" Song Bunan slammed his hand down hard enough to make a loud noise. As he tried to dissipate some of his anger through words, he noticed Xiao Mei's strange expression and became puzzled. His brother's unusual reaction set off alarm bells in his mind, and he began looking around frantically for a third person in the room.
Xiao Mei remained silent, clearly up to something. Song Bunan had long decided that this phrase would be etched on his tombstone as a warning for others since it was hard-earned wisdom gained through blood and tears. He leaned closer to the smiling figure and cast a probing glance at him, asking what he found so amusing.
The younger man, eleven years his junior, pointed at his ear. Only then did Song Bunan notice a flesh-colored earbud faintly glowing green. "Shui Su is on a call with the Ghost Messengers right now," Xiao Mei stuttered as he struggled not to laugh, his neck turning red from holding it in.
"Don't tell me he wasn't wearing headphones while talking to you..." The person involved felt immense regret, wishing he could twist his insides back into place.
"I really wasn't wearing them; everyone heard it," Xiao Mei said as he turned off the earbud. Shui Su's voice came through the phone, mixed with crackling static that made it sound unreal. Complaining about food and cursing their boss behind their back, Song Bunan began calculating whether it would be better to be cremated alongside the packages or dig a hole and bury himself sincerely.
He sent an air-kiss to the Ghost Messengers, indicating that he meant no harm and was just idly chatting. A familiar low-quality AI voice responded that someone had already been dispatched to bring him money.
"Ah—just kill me already." He slumped against the wall, feigning despair. The call ended with his shout, seamlessly transitioning into Xiao Mei's laughter; if "hahaha" could materialize into physical letters, his shop would surely be overflowing by now.
"Shui Su shouted super loudly on the other end telling you not to say anything more, and you still threw out a threat! What does that mean? Self-inflicted misery! Hahaha!" Now it was Xiao Mei making loud slapping sounds against the ground out of joy while Song Bunan felt like he was digging his own grave.
Song Bunan lay limp like a fish out of water among piles of paper, staring blankly as if ready to depart this world. Xiao Mei had grown accustomed to these moments and skillfully pulled out his phone to capture footage, hurriedly sending it over to Shui Su with a caption: "Quickly show this to the Ghost Messengers; little brat is about to melt down."
What revived him from this state was Uncle Meng, always gentle and well-mannered, walking into the shop wearing a trench coat while carrying a thermos and shopping bag. He stepped over the mess on the floor and approached Song Bunan. A cool yet soft hand rested on Song Bunan's face as Uncle Meng softly asked, "What's wrong with my baby Bunan? You look so unhappy; do you want some meatball soup?"
Refusing any comfort from anyone else was impossible when it came to Uncle Meng. Song Bunan sat up straight like a carp leaping out of water and nodded vigorously that he wanted some. Xiao Mei laughed at him for being so weak-willed and turned to Uncle Meng saying he wanted more meatballs than Song Bunan.
Alongside Hot Soup handed over to Song Bunan was a stack of money that nearly made him drop the bowl in excitement. He feigned innocence and asked Uncle Meng why he was giving him money.
"You complained to Young Master Shui Su's friends about not receiving your salary, so they asked me to bring it over. They said the payment for this commission will be delivered once the job is nearly done."
Song Bunan was holding a bowl and crying, while Uncle Meng wiped his face with a handkerchief, saying that he needed to take care of his injuries and shouldn't just wail. Xiao Mei laughed even louder, and in the midst of it, she choked on some soup, coughing so loudly that it echoed through the room.
Ever since they exchanged contact information, thanks to Mighty Falcon's advanced technology, Xin Yi could almost constantly track Song Bunan's location on the map. After Mighty Falcon left, Song Bunan went to an old neighborhood. After spending a night there, he moved to a place very close to his own home, currently at the small shop where they first met.
Although Mighty Falcon verbally stated that their collaboration had ended, he had installed surveillance equipment outside Song Bunan's shop, explaining that it was to ensure he wouldn't be retaliated against by Copper Coin.
Such a talented individual—how could the organization let him go? The boss pointed this out and sent him footage from the surveillance camera in front of the shop, saying he could check it anytime.
It was now nine o'clock at night, and the shop was brightly lit, standing out as the most eye-catching presence on the dark street. Mighty Falcon's surveillance equipment was top-notch; when zoomed in, it allowed them to see inside the shop through the glass door. People were moving between tables and chairs, and many packages were piled on the floor.
"Are those things for their work?" The boss leaned in curiously.
Xin Yi nodded and replied that they were for burning. The scene from that night flashed in his mind—the towering flames illuminating half of his world. That little figure stood at the base of the fire, as if blending into a painting like an enchanting sprite. The sprite had a pair of eyes that captivated him.
"Hey? Where are you going?" The boss was curious about what could possibly make this workaholic leave at night.
"I'm taking a break tonight." The voice came from afar as Xin Yi had already vanished from sight.
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