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墨書 Inktalez
The number of people who had burned in that pool was something Xin Yi could never know. As night fully descended, the flames in the pool became more pronounced. After the remnants of the tables and chairs turned to ash, he was ready to help Song Bunan lift the body into the fire. But Song Bunan did not move; he stood silently before the flames, watching as they gradually flickered out over the debris.
"Ah... finally feels good," someone approached from behind. Xin Yi turned to see a scruffy middle-aged man walking over from the shop, dragging a cart piled high with packaged paper products. "You must be Xin Yi. Now that I see you’re here, I can relax. I'm off then. Little Song, you should finish up quickly and head home too. Let's have dinner again next time."
The newcomer seemed completely unconcerned about the body lying at their feet. He took a drag from his cigarette and dumped everything from the cart onto the ground without waiting for Song Bunan's response, then slowly walked away with the cart. This series of actions did not prompt Song Bunan to turn around; after saying goodbye, he bent down to pick up a bundle at his feet and pulled out a lighter from his pocket to ignite it.
It was a stack of red paper money, soft and quickly consumed by the flames. Just as the fire licked at his fingers, Xin Yi saw Song Bunan toss it into the pile of ashes, where red flames flared up once more, bringing with them a familiar scent.
As the bundles continued to be fed into the fire, Xin Yi's mind drifted back to that day when they first met. However, today there was no moonlight accompanying them; only the two of them stood in the wilderness, scorched by heat.
While burning the paper money, Song Bunan remained silent, sweat dripping from his chin onto the ground, quickly evaporating in the heat. His eyes reflected only the flickering flames. Xin Yi didn’t know what he could do, so he simply took off his jacket and sat beside him, staring at the fire in silence like Song Bunan.
He sat beside the dead man. The unseeing eyes of this corpse were more unsettling than those of an ordinary deceased person. Perhaps due to the firelight, the corpse’s grayish skin appeared much more normal; aside from the dagger and the curve of its neck, viewed from profile it almost seemed alive.
He could even imagine how Song Bunan had twisted that person’s neck—standing amidst chaos, his comparatively small frame suddenly lunging forward to wrap around that fragile neck with an unmatched burst of strength that snapped it in an instant. In that moment, tomorrow ceased to exist.
However, the Song Bunan who emerged from videos and retellings did not match up with the one before him now engaged in these actions. Xin Yi couldn’t connect him with taking someone’s life; he couldn’t articulate why this was so. Perhaps it was his usual smile, or maybe it was how he playfully interacted with friends, or perhaps it was his smile when he said he wanted to explore nature.
Xin Yi thought back to that moment in the woods when he hadn’t noticed the body hanging from a tree; from then on, Song Bunan's image in his mind had become disconnected from who he truly was due to what he had learned and imagined.
This time there weren’t many bundles; the flames returned to the pool much faster than he remembered. The long stick lying by the edge of the pool was lifted again, disturbing what remained of the ashes that still held their shape. As all sparks extinguished beneath dim stars, Song Bunan did not turn around but quietly asked him to return to the shop first.
"Is it time to start?" Xin Yi stood up, offering to help him with what needed to be done. Song Bunan declined this request. The deep expression on his face held unfamiliar emotions that Xin Yi had never seen before; he sensed a fleeting sadness but it was quickly replaced by indifference.
Fine, he conceded.
The tables and chairs in the shop were beyond repair; he had also seen what Song Bunan described as walls that had been nearly destroyed. The already pockmarked white walls were covered in footprints; near where the tables stood were newly created dents, and even a fist-sized hole had been smashed into the bar counter. A decorative long knife lay broken in two on the ground; Xin Yi couldn’t even fathom how much force it would take to pierce through concrete with such an object.
The kitchen was still filled with cut ingredients spread across the countertop, but the fire in the stove had already gone out. The area beneath the shelves was a mess, an unknown deep brown liquid covering the floor, with traces of it on the walls.
But who was this person? Why did sadness linger in Song Bunan's eyes? Xin Yi leaned against the kitchen doorframe, gazing distantly toward the rekindled flames in the pit. This time, there was a hint of green mixed in with the firelight, casting an eerie shadow on Song Bunan's hunched figure.
Had he underestimated Song Bunan's complexity? He reflected. Since they had met, Song Bunan had almost always been smiling; even his occasional sly and mischievous expressions felt refreshing. His serious demeanor while working was captivating, and Xin Yi had never seen him display anger or sadness. Over time, any image of Song Bunan experiencing such emotions had been erased from his mind.
Xin Yi had subconsciously categorized him as a little sun that couldn't be contained, capable of radiating cheerful emotions at any moment, shining brightly even when hurt. However, today’s sadness was too prominent to ignore; even if it flickered briefly, it left a deep mark in his heart.
This realization struck him hard: even the sun has its dim moments, existing in an abyss he couldn't access. What lay at the bottom of that abyss was beyond his understanding. Song Bunan was skilled at concealing matters; he always found a way to deftly change the subject when he didn’t want to talk about something. If that didn’t work, he would simply resort to acting cute to deflect any probing questions.
“Boss, everyone has their own secrets, right?” People are much harder to burn than paper. The flames with their faint green glow continued to burn steadily, long enough for him to start worrying about what actions Song Bunan might take that he wouldn't be able to stop. While waiting, Xin Yi messaged his boss, casually mentioning that Song Bunan was fine.
“Did you drink too much? Suddenly talking nonsense.” The boss replied quickly; just from reading the text, Xin Yi could imagine his boss's disdainful expression. He shared that he had seen a different side of Song Bunan today and felt somewhat emotional about it.
“That kid is way more complicated than you or me. Even though you’ve been an adult for a long time now, I still want to tell you not to take things too seriously with him; you won’t outsmart him.” A rare expression sticker accompanied the message—one that carried a hint of provocation.
“I can’t help but care.” Xin Yi summarized his relationship with Song Bunan into a concise message and sent it off. There was a long pause before he received a reply. Suddenly, messages from the captain appeared, filled with exclamation marks expressing surprise.
Clearly, once the captain knew about this matter, it meant everyone in Mighty Falcon would soon find out. Many members who rarely contacted him reached out to ask how he and Song Bunan had gotten together. Some eager individuals even called directly, chattering away to extract gossip. When they realized he wasn’t answering calls, they simply created a group chat titled: “Congratulations to Xin Yi on finding love.”
The person involved felt helpless amidst countless new messages and simply copied and pasted what he had sent to his boss without looking at his phone again.
Outside, the firelight had vanished, and he found himself unable to locate Song Bunan.
Song Bunan wasn’t someone who held strong notions about team camaraderie. He firmly believed that in life and tasks, there was no need for excessive emotional investment in temporary teammates; after all, perhaps after this mission there would be no further interactions—even if they had spent a considerable amount of time together as a team.
This issue had also been criticized by Xiao Mei. The next day, the child who realized he had this "flaw" took a day off and came directly to the store, holding onto him and talking for a long time. Their communication went smoothly, with both sides clearly expressing their viewpoints and arguing their cases. Ultimately, Shui Su's arrival brought their debate to a close, but the result was still that Song Bunan could not understand why one would develop feelings for teammates.
Compared to familial love, it was not as enduring; compared to friendship, it lacked the deep connection that was hard to sever; compared to romantic love, it was not as unforgettable or profound. It was merely work—just colleagues fulfilling their roles. How could emotions arise from the sadness of a teammate's death?
He struggled with this for a long time, becoming so obsessed that he lost his appetite and even daydreamed while walking, pondering this question. During that period, his family, unaware of the true nature of his turmoil, assumed he had suffered from heartbreak and took turns trying to console him. Even his usually indifferent brother came in to ask about the situation.
"Can genuine feelings really develop between colleagues?" It was a stormy day; the wind howled as if the sky were about to collapse. Broken branches pounded against the glass with a crackling sound, and after a moment of silence, the rain fell. Large droplets splattered against the car windows, shattering into pieces before sliding away, creating a surround sound effect inside the vehicle.
That day, Song Buxian was unexpectedly tasked with taking him to an amusement park to cheer him up. However, as soon as they arrived at the parking lot, they were caught in the downpour and could only wait quietly for the storm to pass. Halfway through his first cigarette, Song Buxian heard the usually silent boy suddenly speak up; his voice was muffled and lacked emotion.
He realized that this boy's recent odd behavior stemmed from his inner conflict. Taking a deep drag from his cigarette until the bitter smoke filled his lungs, he said, "Any relationship between people can develop feelings; it's just a matter of depth. If you care about it, then it's a bond; if you don't care, it's merely a brief interaction. It can affect one's emotions in work and life—both good and bad."
"And you don't need to care about it; it's just something optional." Song Buxian knew his brother wouldn't differ in this regard, so he added this personal touch to his conclusion to prevent further confusion for the boy.
"Right." The vacant look in his eyes began to brighten as he leaned against the car door and slowly straightened up, taking deep breaths to dispel his gloom. A smile returned to his face. "It's just something optional. I don't like it, so I don't need it. What does it matter if it's important to others?"
The familiar atmosphere returned to the car as Song Bunan thanked him with a smile, offering to cover all expenses at the amusement park today. Just as he reached into his wallet with great enthusiasm, the rain stopped, revealing a rainbow hanging in the sky.
"I just need to know what I value; everything else is unimportant."
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