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墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Qiang squatted in front of the greasy keyboard at the internet café, his index finger unconsciously scraping the edge of the space bar, collecting ash. The blue light from the screen reflected on his dark eye bags, and the search bar displayed the words "How to hire someone to follow" like some forbidden incantation.
The mingled scent of instant noodles and sweat wafted from the adjacent workstation. He suddenly grabbed a can of cola and took a big gulp; the cold liquid slid down his throat, and he could hear the grinding sound of his molars. In the shadow of the blind spot by the alley's entrance, a man in a hoodie was tapping on a rusty fire escape ladder with his knuckles.
Amidst the three short and two long signals, Zhao Qiang shoved an envelope filled with cash into the man's hand, feeling the calluses on his palm rough like sandpaper. "Don't touch a single hair on her head," he warned in a low voice, but as the man turned, Zhao caught a glimpse of a butterfly knife handle glinting from his pants pocket.
Xiao Ya clutched her backpack to her chest as she hurried away, the soles of her canvas shoes crunching over fallen sycamore leaves with a faint, mournful sound. A sudden chill crept up her neck, prompting her to make an urgent right turn at the intersection. The glass window reflected a baseball cap that maintained a distance of twenty steps behind her.
She dashed into a convenience store and grabbed a canister of pepper spray from the bottom shelf. As she scanned it at the checkout counter, she caught sight of the baseball cap stopping in front of a nearby bubble tea shop, pretending to check the menu.
The bitter scent of overnight coffee grounds lingered in the break room on the top floor of the newspaper office. Reporter Lin's fingertips trembled slightly as she inserted a USB drive into the card reader. In the surveillance video, Zhao Qiang was seen kicking over a desk when suddenly, the camera shook violently—this was captured by a victim hiding in a locker who had covered their phone with their school uniform.
She zoomed in on Zhao Qiang's watch logo; its reflection faintly revealed a figure curled up in the corner. The curtains in the art classroom were suddenly blown open by the wind, casting shadows of the plaster statue that stretched into distorted shapes on the floor.
Teacher Zhou removed her paint-stained plastic gloves and watched as Xiao Ya smeared deep red paint across her paper. She suddenly spoke up, "The alarm system is connected at the northeast corner of the art studio."
Seeing the girl look up in shock, she twisted open her thermos and blew away the steam rising from her goji berry tea. "When I was young, I also poured red ink into the principal's teacup."
At midnight, the computer screen cast an eerie blue light against the dormitory wall. Xiao Ya stared at the flickering code in the tutorial video and suddenly grabbed her stylus to write rapidly on the touchscreen. When the IP redirect program finally ran, she noticed that outside, the cicadas had just stopped chirping; she realized that sweat had left five transparent fingerprints on her stylus.
Zhao Qiang kicked open the door to the abandoned chemical laboratory; the iron door slammed against the wall with a loud crash that startled crows outside. He yanked open a storage cabinet and poured an entire bottle of concentrated hydrochloric acid onto a box of files in the corner. As white smoke billowed up, he suddenly noticed red lights flickering from the ceiling vent.
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the end of the corridor, casting a monstrous shadow on the wall from the lighter he held tightly in his hand.
Xiao Ya crouched inside the storage cabinet of the Art Studio, the soft glow of her digital screen illuminating the sketchbook resting on her knees. In her drawing, Zhao Qiang was reaching out to tug at a girl's ponytail, while behind him, graffiti cleverly concealed the word "trash" using perspective techniques.
As the upload progress bar hit 100%, she seamlessly integrated this artwork into tomorrow's Campus Art Exhibition submissions.
Reporter Lin stared at the Sign Language Emoji that popped up in the chat window and hastily sketched a few shapes on the corner of his Sketchbook.
The moment the video call connected, the Deaf-Mute Boy on the other end suddenly widened his eyes—behind him, a poster from three years ago showcased Zhao Qiang as the Karate Champion, and the coded message marked with a Fluorescent Marker along the edge of the poster perfectly matched the location of scars visible in the surveillance footage.
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