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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Four
I anxiously ran my fingers through my hair, feeling as if I were trapped in a massive spider web, each breath becoming thick and suffocating. The threads wrapped around my nerves one by one; the more I struggled, the tighter they became, tightening until I felt utterly hopeless.
Zhang Qiang arrived, bringing with him chilled beer and fragrant fried chicken. Yet the aroma of the food could not dispel the gloom that hung over me. I gulped down a large mouthful of beer; its bitterness slid down my throat into my stomach like fire, providing no relief for my inner turmoil. I stammered out the events of the past few days to him, from the inexplicable shattering of the glass in the Antique Wooden Cabinet to the eerie whispers from that night in the graveyard, and then to the bizarre restoration of the glass... I spoke incoherently, like a madman.
"You must be under too much stress; you need to rest," Zhang Qiang shook his head repeatedly, as if he were looking at a mental patient.
"Rest? How can I rest?" I laughed nervously. "If I close my eyes now, all I see is that damned glass—shattering one moment, whole the next, shattering again, whole again... like a horror silent film playing on an infinite loop, driving me insane!" I pointed at my temple. "It's about to explode; do you understand?"
Zhang Qiang patted my shoulder, his tone laced with helplessness and a hint of fear. "Stop scaring yourself. There's no such thing as ghosts or spirits in this world. There must be some scientific explanation; you're just overthinking it."
Scientific explanation? I forced a smile. If there really were a scientific explanation, I'd rather believe that ghosts existed! At least then I could find someone to blame, an outlet for my fear, instead of living in this inexplicable dread and anxiety—like a mouse thrown into a maze, unable to find an exit and waiting despairingly for death.
"Zhang Qiang, just go," I waved my hand weakly. "I need to be alone for a while."
Zhang Qiang opened his mouth as if to say something but ultimately sighed and got up to leave. The room fell silent once more, leaving only the sound of my rapid breathing and heartbeat. I slumped on the sofa, feeling like an orphan abandoned by the world—helpless and desperate. Fear surged over me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me.
I lit a cigarette and took a greedy drag; the taste of nicotine calmed me slightly. As smoke swirled around me, I began to think about what I should do. Should I just sit here and wait for that unknown terror to strike again?
No! I couldn't give up like this! I had to find a solution!
Suddenly standing up, I grabbed my coat and rushed out of the house. The streets were deserted at night; streetlights cast a dim yellow glow that stretched my shadow long behind me. Wandering aimlessly down the street, I found myself at the edge of town—a place I'd never ventured before.
There stood an ancient shrine hidden in a dark corner, like a lurking beast. The door was ajar, and from within came a low chanting sound—like someone reciting scriptures or perhaps... those whispers I had heard in the graveyard that night. The voice pierced through my eardrum like a fine needle, sending chills down my spine.
I hesitated, fear and curiosity intertwining, leaving me in a dilemma. Ultimately, curiosity triumphed over fear, and I pushed open the door to the ancestral hall.
Inside, the light was dim, and a faint scent of sandalwood filled the air, identical to what I had smelled that night in the graveyard! My heart tightened, an ominous premonition rising within me. This scent felt like an invisible thread connecting me to the graveyard and the unknown terror that lay ahead.
"Who?" A frail voice echoed from deep within the hall, carrying an air of authority that made me shiver involuntarily.
I followed the sound and saw an old man seated on a pillow, holding a string of prayer beads, his eyes closed as he muttered softly. He was thin and clad in a gray robe, seemingly merging with the darkness around him.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady myself. "Sir, hello. I… I've encountered some troubles and would like to seek your advice."
The old man slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was deep and calm, as if he could see through everything. "Young man, tell me about your troubles."
I recounted everything that had happened over the past few days—the inexplicable shattering of the glass from the antique wooden cabinet, the terrifying whispers from that night in the graveyard, the unbelievable restoration of the glass, and my inner fears and anxieties. I poured out my heart, hoping to find some solace or hope from him.
The old man listened quietly without interrupting. His expression was as tranquil as water, making it difficult to read his thoughts.
After I finished speaking, he remained silent for a moment before slowly saying, "Young man, you have made a mistake."
"Mistake? What mistake?" I asked nervously, my heart racing.
"You should not have forgotten the Zhongyuan Festival." His tone was calm yet carried an undeniable authority, striking my heart like a heavy hammer.
"Zhongyuan Festival? But… I already went to pay my respects!" I replied in confusion, my voice trembling slightly.
"Offerings? Do you think that making offerings is as simple as burning Joss Paper?" The old man shook his head, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "You haven't put your heart into it; your Ancestors cannot feel your sincerity."
"Sincerity?" I was taken aback, my mind blank.
"Yes, sincerity," the old man looked at me with a touch of pity in his gaze. "You must sincerely repent to your Ancestors and seek their forgiveness; otherwise, they will cling to you until you pay the price."
A chill ran through me; the old man's words pierced my heart like a sharp knife. Could it be... could everything I had experienced be because I had not sincerely honored my Ancestors?
"What... what should I do?" I asked, trembling, my voice barely audible.
The old man sighed. "Better late than never; it's not too late. Go back to the graveyard once more, sincerely repent to your Ancestors, and ask for their forgiveness. Remember, you must do it with all your heart."
I looked at the old man, filled with confusion and unease. Should I trust his words?
"Go now, young one," the old man waved his hand. "This is your only chance."
I gritted my teeth and stood up, leaving the ancestral hall. I decided to try again. If this time it still didn’t work, I... I didn't know what I would do.
As I walked home, the sky was overcast, as if it might rain at any moment. My heart mirrored the gloomy sky, filled with anxiety and fear. What should I do? What if it still didn’t work this time?
I looked up at the sky; dark clouds loomed overhead, suffocating in their weight. Suddenly, a flash of lightning split the night sky, illuminating the path ahead... and also shedding light on the fear within me. Was this truly my only chance?
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