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墨書 Inktalez
For the next few days, I poured all my energy into studying the Black Lacquered Wooden Box. I tried various combinations of pushing, pulling, pressing, and twisting, but the box remained immovable, as if it were inherently sealed. The Paper Figurines stood like loyal sentinels; whenever I examined the Lacquer Box in the hall, I felt their "gaze" piercing into my back. The sobbing from the attic had ceased, but I knew that the "presence" was still there.
Could it be that my previous assumptions were wrong? Opening the box might not rely on physical techniques but rather require... some kind of "key"? Or a specific "timing"?
Frustration began to gnaw at me. I decided to temporarily set aside the Lacquer Box and take a stroll around town; perhaps I could find other clues. This time, I planned to visit the oldest man in town, who was said to know many Old Stories—the former village head, Grandfather Wang.
Grandfather Wang lived at the other end of town, his yard filled with flowers and plants. When he saw me, he seemed unsurprised.
"Is that you, Lin Family Girl? I've heard you returned to inherit the old house," he said as he brewed a cup of tea for me, his gaze calm.
"Grandfather Wang, I would like to inquire about my family's old residence and Granduncle San," I stated directly.
Grandfather Wang sighed. "Ah, the Lin Family Old Residence... Some things have been passed down by our ancestors; it's hard to distinguish truth from falsehood. Your Granduncle San was a reclusive man who guarded the old house and upheld the Lin family rules; he never left Huaiyin Town in his life."
"Rules? Are you referring to the worship of those Paper Figurines?"
"Yes," Grandfather Wang nodded. "It is said that the Lin family's ancestors devised this method to suppress some unclean entities. What exactly it is, no one knows. All we know is that those Paper Figurines must not be disturbed or moved. Your Granduncle San took great care of them."
"Suppress? Isn't it for safety?" This contradicted what the Grocery Store Owner had said.
Grandfather Wang glanced at me with a profound look. "It is both suppression and a plea for peace. Some things, when contained, naturally bring safety. Girl, that house has its own malevolence; your Granduncle San was its guardian for a lifetime."
I asked about the attic, but Grandfather Wang waved his hand dismissively. "That attic has been locked since I can remember; no one has ever entered. It is said to be where the Ancestral Tablet is kept and should not be disturbed lightly."
"The Ancestral Tablet? Does it emit sobbing sounds?" I refrained from sharing my experiences; my intuition told me that now was not the right time.
After bidding farewell to Grandfather Wang, my mind was clouded with doubts. Suppression? The attic as a place of ancestor worship? Both the Grocery Store Owner and Grandfather Wang seemed to hold back information, even contradicting each other. What were they hiding?
Returning to the old house with a heavy heart, dusk had fallen. As I passed by the Old Huai Tree in the yard, I seemed to kick something hard underfoot. Looking down, I saw a small piece of tattered yellow paper half-buried in dirt.
The paper was old with singed edges, and several blurred characters were written on it in cinnabar ink; the ink had also smudged. Carefully picking it up and brushing off the dirt, I strained to make out two words in the fading light: "... Substitute..."
Substitute? What did this mean? Was it part of some spell? Was it related to the Paper Figurines?
As I pondered this, a gust of cold wind swept through Huaiyin Town, rustling the leaves. Startled, I looked up to see something new hanging from one of the thickest branches of the Old Huai Tree—a small figure made of straw and rags that looked completely different from the Paper Figurines on the Altar Table; it appeared rougher and... sinister. It swayed gently in the wind as if beckoning me.
This could not have been left by Granduncle San! Someone had quietly placed it there while I was away!
Was it a warning? Or perhaps... a curse?
What I once thought was merely a ghost story about a haunted house seemed to be veering off course. My previous assumptions might have been wrong; this old house's strangeness involved more than just long-standing "unclean" matters—it likely included... human malice! And that Lacquer Box might not just be an ordinary relic but rather a focal point of some secret that someone did not want me to touch.
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