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墨書 Inktalez
The morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting a scattered glow over the cluttered room.
Li Jianxin rubbed his hair, which was as messy as a bird's nest, feeling as if all his strength had been drained away. He struggled to rise from the bed.
His mind was foggy, shrouded in a haze that blurred everything in front of him, making it hard to focus.
The sunlight pooled on the floor, presenting a warm yellow reminiscent of vague memories, tinged with a hint of illusion.
Was everything just a dream?
However, Li Jianxin quickly realized he was not dreaming, as he felt the unique rough texture of canvas beneath his fingers.
He threw off the covers, and an oil painting unfolded before him without reservation.
It was a portrait painted in the most vibrant colors, depicting a girl whose lips curled into a smile that seemed to possess a kind of magic, instantly capturing Li Jianxin's heart.
Ruo Lin… Are you well?
Li Jianxin gently pressed his cheek against the girl’s chest in the painting, treating her like an exquisite treasure, savoring this moment of sweet affection.
Yet, an urgent phone ring cruelly interrupted this fleeting warmth.
Li Jianxin initially hesitated to answer; he was lost in his own world and reluctant to be disturbed. But the phone continued to ring insistently, its sharp tone declaring it would not cease easily.
Irritated, Li Jianxin ran his fingers through his hair and reached for the phone on the bedside table. Grabbing it, he answered, “Hello?”
“Is this Jianxin?” A woman’s voice came through the receiver—clear and pleasant, suggesting she was not very old.
“Yeah,” Li Jianxin replied, his tone still laced with laziness and impatience.
“Did your plan succeed?” The woman’s voice carried a hint of concern.
“Yes, and I owe you thanks for your key,” Li Jianxin said as he sat up slightly, his tone now infused with gratitude.
"There's no need for that, as long as you're happy. But I must remind you of something." The woman's tone turned serious.
"What is it?" Li Jianxin furrowed his brows slightly, a hint of caution flashing in his eyes.
"My father has hired a very skilled detective, and his orders are to retrieve the painting at all costs."
"That's fine. I've used a little trick to ensure my figure isn't visible in the footage. Without that clue, it's quite difficult for the detective to find me." Li Jianxin leaned against the headboard, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, as if everything was under his control.
"Is that so?" The woman's voice carried a touch of melancholy, tinged with faint disappointment, followed by a long silence between them, the air seeming to freeze.
"Is there anything else?" Li Jianxin broke the silence, his tone slightly urging.
"No... I just wanted to ask what your plans are next." The woman's voice hesitated, as if she were cautiously probing.
"Next..." Li Jianxin gazed at the girl in the oil painting, his eyes filled with deep affection and longing. "I might go traveling; you know we need inspiration in our line of work."
"Where will you go?" The woman pressed on, curiosity evident in her voice.
"Hulunbuir Grassland. I remember Ruo Lin always wanted to go there." Li Jianxin's gaze softened, as if lost in memories.
"Oh." The other party responded with a single syllable, her voice laced with a hint of wistfulness.
"Well, I’ll hang up now," Li Jianxin said, already preparing to end the call.
"Mm." The woman replied softly.
"Wait!" She suddenly raised her voice, urgency creeping into her tone.
"What?!" Li Jianxin was startled by the sudden exclamation, nearly dropping the phone from his hand.
"Xiao Ying, you look beautiful in high heels." A sly smile crept onto Li Jianxin's face as he spoke.
"Really?" The woman's laughter rang through the receiver like silver bells, as if all her previous disappointment had vanished. Her laughter was crisp and melodious, like a clear spring flowing through the mountains.
Li Jianxin hung up the phone and reached out to press the play button on the recorder.
The unique melody, reminiscent of the tangled antennas on rooftops at dusk and the slow flow of a pale gray sky, began to play:
The glossy black eyes and your smiling face
Are impossible to forget as your features change.
The light, drifting old times slip away like this,
Turning back to look, years have hurried past.
The vast, desolate road is your wandering,
Searching and seeking, my footsteps remain close.
By the dark, lonely pillow lies your tenderness,
In the morning when I wake, my sorrow unfolds.
(Is this your favorite song? Let me sing it for you.)
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