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墨書 Inktalez
At eleven o'clock on Monday morning, Qiluo Ling received a call from Xu Xiaoya, who said she was free for lunch that day and wanted to invite Qiluo Ling to eat together. Qiluo Ling thought about it; ever since she moved into that small apartment, the two had mostly communicated by phone and hadn't gathered in a long time. Considering she had no other plans for the day, she readily agreed to Xu Xiaoya.
Thirty minutes later, Qiluo Ling arrived at the building where Xu Xiaoya worked. She checked the time and felt it was still early.
She decided to take a stroll around the area near Xu Xiaoya's workplace, leisurely waiting for her to finish work. The street was quiet, with not many pedestrians passing by. The sky was a clear blue, bright and beautiful. The sunlight was clear and lovely. The surroundings were eerily silent; despite being in a big city, this moment felt unusually tranquil.
Not far away, there was a newsstand, and she decided to buy a newspaper to pass the time.
The square newsstand was filled with various magazines and an assortment of newspapers.
"I'd like to buy a newspaper," she smiled at the vendor inside the newsstand. The vendor was an elderly man in his sixties, with gray hair and wearing reading glasses.
"What newspaper do you want?"
"Just give me any one. I'm just passing the time."
"Then I'll get you a Morning News Report; today's headline is about a murder case." The old man glanced at her; his glasses were perched low on his nose, as if they might fall off at any moment.
"What murder case?"
"Last night, a young man was stabbed to death at home by an assailant. You can read the details in the Morning News Report. Ah," the old man said regretfully, "the public safety situation is really bad these days. It's such a pity for someone so young to encounter this; I heard he was a professor."
She took out a dollar from her bag, handed it to the old man, and took the Morning News Report while reading as she walked.
The front page of the Morning News Report featured a headline about a homicide that occurred last night in Shanghai's xx district, where a man in his thirties was attacked and died that evening. It was reported that this man was a professor at a local university. The Public Security Bureau is making every effort to investigate the case based on leads.
The accompanying photo showed the body of a male lying face up, with blood streaming from his chest. He wore a sweater that had rolled up, exposing almost his entire abdomen stained with blood, and he had on blue-gray pants. But the face of the deceased was unmistakably familiar to her.
She frowned. Wasn't it just a couple of days ago that Professor Chen talked to her about the impact of music on people's thoughts and emotions?
At that moment, Xu Xiaoya walked over from a distance.
"What's wrong? You look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?" Xu Xiaoya asked, looking at her ashen face.
"Nothing... nothing at all. I was just thinking about someone," she replied, coming back to her senses.
"Are you thinking about your Birth Mother?"
"No, it's someone else."
During lunch, Qiluo Ling suddenly asked, "Xiaoya, do you think I'm an ominous person?"
"Why do you say that?" Xu Xiaoya looked at her in surprise.
"I've noticed that the men I've interacted with seem to have a high risk of dying," she murmured.
"What?" Xu Xiaoya seemed not to understand her words.
"Nothing," she said, lowering her head to continue eating.
After lunch, Qiluo Ling hurriedly left.
Once she returned home, she immediately called Cheng Yuping.
"Today, I saw the news in the newspaper about Professor Chen being murdered."
"Yes." Cheng Yuping was very calm, as if not surprised at all.
There was a few seconds of silence on the phone.
"How could this happen?" Qiluo Ling couldn't help but ask.
"It is said that his murder is related to a fanatical cult organization."
"He joined a cult?"
"No, according to the police investigation, his murder seems to be connected to the research topic he was working on."
"Connected to the research topic?"
"Yes, it's about the influence of music on people's thoughts and emotions, the topic he discussed with you that day."
"Why?"
On the other end of the phone, Cheng Yuping fell silent again, as if pondering whether to speak or not.
"What exactly is it?" Qiluo Ling pressed urgently.
"According to one of his most capable students, he seemed to have mastered a method of controlling people's thoughts using music."
Qiluo Ling tried hard to recall their previous conversations; he had indeed hinted at such information.
"And then?"
"I heard that a cult organization once sent someone to hope he would hand over this research report."
"Are you saying that the cult wanted to use his research to control people's minds? And when he refused, he was killed?"
"That's what they say."
After hanging up the phone, she sat on the sofa, gazing at the clouds drifting across the blue sky outside. The sky was so blue, an expanse of blue that seemed impossible to replicate, pressing and destroying her inner world. She could hardly catch her breath.
At seven in the evening, she packed her things and went to perform at the bar on time. In the bar, she deliberately played a piece titled "Exodus" in memory of the late Professor Chen. The grand and sorrowful melody filled the entire space, soaking into her lonely soul.
When she returned home, she hurriedly washed up and went to bed.
In the middle of the night, she suddenly woke up, her eyes wide open in the darkness, although she could see nothing. After waking up, there was no trace of sleepiness; her mind became unusually clear as she began to ponder Professor Chen's death.
Suddenly, she had a terrifying intuition that there was more than just her in the room—there was someone else present. The other person was in the darkness, completely silent, but she sensed his presence in the dark, even though it was very faint. She could feel that he was in this room and that he was now staring deeply at her.
Who was he? Perhaps he had come before she fell asleep, or maybe he arrived while she was sleeping, or he might have entered her room only after she woke up.
A gentle breeze passed through the thin sheer curtains by the window, and moonlight streamed in. She vaguely saw a rocking chair at her desk slightly swaying; clearly, a gentle breeze couldn't exert such force. Moreover, there was a dark shadow on the rocking chair, and it was rocking back and forth.
Qiluo Ling's heart tightened as fear surged over her like a tidal wave.
She longed to see light and trembled as she tried to turn on the desk lamp beside her bed. But for some reason, after several attempts, the desk lamp wouldn't light up.
"What's wrong? Do you want to turn on the light?" The shadow in the darkness suddenly spoke; his voice was ethereal, like a gust of wind passing by.
She nodded.
The desk lamp in front of the bed suddenly lit up, casting an orange-yellow light that enveloped the entire room. She mustered her courage and couldn't help but look toward the chair.
Despite the light, the chair was still a mass of shadows; the light seemed unable to penetrate that mass, as if it were being reflected away, making the room unusually bright. This mass of shadow was different from an ordinary shadow; it shifted and stretched in every direction, like a person expressing bodily movements.
"In fact, I also long for a glimmer of light, even though I rarely see any," the shadow said.
"Who are you?" she instinctively asked.
"Who am I?" the darkness chuckled lightly. "Haven't you noticed that my mode of expression is not human language?"
Upon hearing this, she suddenly realized that what he was expressing was neither Chinese nor Korean nor English, but a chaotic and direct form of information. It was chaotic because his mode of expression was vague and indefinable. It was direct because the information he conveyed could overlay directly onto her consciousness without needing to be processed through language centers.
"Stop thinking; he is already dead."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Of course, that University Philosophy Professor. Death is his only liberation."
"How do you know what I'm thinking?"
"Naturally, human consciousness is transparent before me. Including yours."
"Then who exactly are you?"
"How should I put it? I have many names: Demon, Satan, Grim Reaper, Ghost. Which name do you prefer?"
She remained silent and did not respond.
"You don't need to be afraid. God and Satan are one, just as good and evil coexist within a single person. Don't you humans always want to be close to Satan while alive, yet wish to see God after death?"
"What do you mean by your last sentence?"
"When you humans are alive, you seek pleasure, greed, and possession; these evils are given by Satan. Yet after death, you wish to see God. Isn't this the duality of your human nature?"
She fell silent for a long time and asked, "Do you, demon, or does God really exist?"
"Everything in the universe exists, not only including you humans but also the Creator whom you cannot perceive."
"I don't believe it. I would rather believe that demons and God only exist in faith."
"I certainly understand your thoughts because humanity's understanding of the mechanisms of the universe is still insufficient to provide clear answers about the real world. This is a limitation of humanity. Didn't a philosopher named Kant say that the essence of all objective things is unknowable? So you attribute this limitation to agnosticism."
"Why do you say that Professor Chen will find liberation after death?"
"Do you believe that there is no afterlife after a person dies?"
"Of course. This is the materialist viewpoint."
"This is a hypothesis that you cannot prove. All things in the universe cycle infinitely through life. In other words, everything exists, has existed, or will exist."
"Are you here today to discuss philosophical topics about existence and consciousness or life and death?"
"Of course not. I am here to tell you about the existence of demons, and likewise, Demonic Music also exists."
"Why should I seek Demonic Music?"
"Of course, because..." He suddenly fell silent, as if recalling something.
"Because?"
"You might know that your Great-Grandparents were Polish."
"Yes. What does that have to do with him?"
"It's because of the Demon Contract."
"Demon Contract?"
"Yes, it's because of the Demon Contract. Actually, to be precise, the Demon Contract is really a Love Contract." His voice suddenly became melancholic.
After a long time, neither of them spoke.
"Alright, I have to go now. Remember, following love is like following music."
After she finished speaking, she noticed that the shadow on the chair had already disappeared. The Desk Lamp cast a soft light throughout the room, and a gentle breeze continued to sway the curtains. The only change was that the chair no longer rocked, standing quietly by the window.
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