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墨書 Inktalez
"I truly do not understand her past, her background, or her purpose for approaching me. However, when I learned the whole truth, she left without a word, quickly disappearing from my world as if she had never been a part of my life," Choi Ji-woo said slowly.
"Everyone in the world seems to live according to their own will, but these wills do not necessarily originate from themselves. Many personal wills seem to transcend the self—bearing a heavy load of fragile and complex things: the past, dreams, and even responsibilities," Qiluo Ling said, staring intently at him.
Choi Ji-woo chuckled lightly, placing the disc into the drawer, and continued calmly, "For a long time, I lived in pain. To me, the meaning of life was to find her and then take revenge on her. When I found her, she had already passed away. What a great irony life is. Once life loses its purpose, I found myself at a loss for how to go on living. I often ponder this question: Is it easier to die like her or to struggle through life like I do? I have serious doubts about whether truth exists in this world. Everyone has their own philosophy. Soon enough, I pulled myself together; for me, I must go on living. Some people exist in this world with their own unique missions. Just like Moses was chosen by God, today you and I are also chosen by fate. The difference is that Moses's mission was to lead the Israelites out of Egypt; my mission is to maintain the Choi family's Century Curse over the Dun Family, while your mission is to break this curse."
Qiluo Ling felt a shiver run through her; waves of emotion surged within her as many questions seemed to find answers.
"You must be thinking that our missions are contradictory, yet we can still chat calmly together," Choi Ji-woo smiled, looking at her with an unusual gaze.
Qiluo Ling was about to say something when Choi Ji-woo suddenly made a quiet gesture towards her.
A cold wind swept through the window as the two remained silent for a long time.
"I just seemed to hear that piece of music played by the Jewish Piano Teacher. What was it called? I can't quite remember, but this piece of music felt like Mozart's Mass—there was a religious atmosphere that gave a sense of soul redemption. Since the second winter after that Jewish Piano Teacher disappeared, I buried some things I wanted to forget in a corner of the garden. Spring came, and unknown flowers grew abundantly beside that corner, but nothing grew where I buried those things. Do you want to know what I buried?"
Qiluo Ling nodded.
"Then come with me," Choi Ji-woo said slowly as he stood up with difficulty using his cane and made his way downstairs.
The garden was overgrown with weeds of varying heights; a gust of wind blew through, causing them to sway slightly. Choi Ji-woo struggled toward the deepest part of the garden, moving slowly. Qiluo Ling wanted to step forward to assist him but restrained her impulse; the distance between them was necessary for their existence.
After several minutes of walking, they arrived at the northwest corner of the garden, where the plants were most lush. Choi Ji-woo stopped and turned to Qiluo Ling, saying, "The place where I buried things is within this cluster of plants; if you go inside, you will see ground where no grass grows. There lies something that belongs to you."
After speaking, Choi Ji-woo turned her head and walked back toward the house.
Qiluo Ling watched his figure fade away, then turned her head and continued walking forward. The stiff plant stems scraped against her skin, causing a brief moment of pain that quickly vanished, while blood trickled out little by little. In her anxious state, Qiluo Ling paid no attention to her injury. Her increasingly rapid pace caused her body to lose balance, nearly making her fall.
As she passed through the dense weeds, Qiluo Ling finally spotted a clearing in the center of the thicket. She slowly crouched down. This was an utterly ordinary patch of ground. The brownish-yellow earth was damp, yet no plants grew there, as if all signs of life had vanished.
Qiluo Ling looked around and noticed a relatively intact piece of tile nearby. She picked it up and began to dig into the soil with it. Fortunately, it had rained last night, making the dirt soft. Before long, she felt the tile hit something hard. Soon, a Black Wooden Box gradually came into view.
The wooden box resembled a small, exquisite house, complete with a roof and square sides. Qiluo Ling's heart sank; this box looked very much like something she recognized. She wiped the surface of the box clean and indeed found a Black and White Photo affixed to its center. The photo was damaged and torn, but one woman could still be identified. Below the photo was a line of clear text.
Qiluo Ling froze, tears silently streaming down her face.
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