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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Five
Zhou Ran pushed open the window of the inn, and the night breeze cut through him like a knife, carrying a pungent odor. He rubbed his eyes, the wisp of Azure Smoke from last night still swirling in his mind, as if it were alive and clinging to him. He was just a scholar, having traveled half the province in search of strange tales to write about. The villagers shook their heads when they spoke of Azure Smoke, claiming it was the spirit of a demon that had scattered, but he didn’t believe them. With pen and notebook in hand, he was determined to climb the mountain and see for himself.
As dawn broke, he slung his bag over his shoulder and began his ascent. The path was still, devoid of wind, and the shadows of the trees stood silent like a painting. However, as he climbed higher, the smell intensified, a mix of burnt grass and blood. Frowning, he took out his notebook to jot down a few notes, his hand trembling slightly. An old woman from the village had grabbed him last night, her voice quivering as she warned, “Don’t go; the Azure Smoke hasn’t dissipated; the soul hasn’t returned.” He had smiled at her words then, but now, with his feet sinking into the damp earth, his heart raced with unease.
Reaching halfway up the mountain, he stepped on something hard. Looking down, he saw a broken bowstring; the wood was etched with characters that were blurred as if soaked in water. He crouched down to wipe it off and recognized a few words: “For Yuan, Qing.” He paused; villagers had mentioned a hunter named Lin Yuan who had run off with a Fox Spirit and never returned. Gripping the bow tightly, his heart pounded like a drum.
When Zhou Ran finally reached the summit, the sky was dark as if ink had been spilled across it. A wooden cabin stood half-collapsed; rotten grass piled in one corner emitted low whimpers as the wind blew through. He pushed open the door; inside was empty except for a waft of Azure Smoke that invaded his nostrils. Striking a match, he watched as its flickering light danced on the walls, casting a vague shadow that resembled someone standing there. He turned abruptly but found nothing; yet that shadow continued to sway as if animated.
He knelt down to rummage through the pile of grass and felt something cloth-like—dull gray fabric reminiscent of what the old woman described as clothing worn by the Fox Spirit. Shaking it out made his fingers numb from cold. Outside, the moon climbed higher in the sky, round and white like a plate, its light spilling into the room and revealing shallow claw marks scratched into the wooden floorboards as if freshly made. His throat tightened; clutching the bow tightly, he stood up intending to leave but found his feet glued to the ground.
A low hum resonated around him, so close it felt like it was pressed against his ear. Zhou Ran shuddered as his match fell to the ground and extinguished itself in darkness. He stumbled outside but hit his leg against the threshold painfully. Yet that low hum pursued him like a fog encircling him. Turning back, he saw Azure Smoke rising under moonlight—first as thin wisps that coalesced into a shape resembling a human figure. His eyes widened as an arm emerged from within that smoke—white fingers reaching out toward him.
He ran downhill, gasping for breath like a bellows being worked hard, but Azure Smoke followed closely behind him, wrapping around his ankles with an icy grip. He fell to the ground and turned back to see that smoke had thinned slightly to reveal a face—narrow eyes grinning with an unsettling smile reminiscent of the village's painted fox spirit. He called out but found his voice hoarse and unable to form words. The face drew closer and whispered softly, “You shouldn’t have come.” His mind buzzed with confusion; he tried to rise but found himself ensnared by that smoke as if it intended to swallow him whole.
Suddenly another figure appeared within that smoke—tall and thin with a bow slung over its back like a hunter. Zhou Ran froze momentarily; when that figure turned around, its eye sockets were hollow like two black holes as it called out softly: “A Qing…” The voice was hoarse and dragged out like a broken gong fading into the wind. The Azure Smoke trembled slightly; that fox face glanced back at the shadow with glimmering eyes filled with tears. Zhou Ran's heart sank as an idea struck him: Lin Yuan hadn’t left; he was here.
Leaning against a tree with cold mud gripping his hands painfully, Zhou Ran could still see that face hovering before him—smiling like a knife cutting through his heartbeat. As a scholar who had witnessed many strange occurrences before, never had he felt so unsteady on his legs tonight. Confusion clouded his thoughts; why was Azure Smoke clinging to him? When that shadow called out “A Qing,” its voice sounded choked with sorrow—it pained him just to listen.
He looked down at the bow in his hands; its carved letters felt like needles piercing into his eyes. The villagers' words echoed in his mind: Lin Yuan had run off with a Fox Spirit—but that shadow’s hollow eye sockets were those of someone dead; it was clear he hadn’t run away—he simply wasn’t alive anymore. Swallowing hard, he gripped the bow tighter until his knuckles turned white like bones. Fear washed over him—not fear of those claws but fear of what lurked within that smoke. The low hum drilled into his ears as if trying to lure away his soul; he covered his head and told himself to run—but that smell clung to him like an unshakeable shadow.
He looked up again; Azure Smoke still lingered at the mountaintop as if waiting for someone. Suddenly recalling the old woman’s words about souls not returning made his heart stop momentarily. When that shadow called out “A Qing,” it sounded both pleading and resentful toward her. His throat dried up while tears mingled with sweat streamed down his face. He couldn’t comprehend whether Lin Yuan was dead or trapped here—but when that fox face turned back toward the shadow with tear-filled eyes, it took away all of his breath.
Zhou Ran stumbled down the mountain, the bow still clutched in his hand, feeling as if it were a burning iron. He returned to the city and wrote about the incident in a book, titling it " Azure Smoke and Moon." The villagers shook their heads after reading it, claiming he was making things up, but no one dared to venture up the mountain again. On the night of the full moon, the Azure Smoke rose higher from the mountain peak, as if sealing off that piece of land. During his last visit to the village, he stood at the foot of the mountain and looked up; he saw the smoke coalesce into two figures, shoulder to shoulder, softly humming as they circled around him, as if bidding him farewell. He shivered, turned on his heel, and ran without looking back.
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