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墨書 Inktalez
The lights in the Waiting Hall were dim, and the air was thick with the smell of various foods, making me feel a bit nauseous.
A few hours later, the car arrived at its destination. I dragged my luggage off the vehicle as dawn broke. I hailed a taxi and gave the name of an Inn. The car navigated through narrow streets lined with low houses and cluttered shops.
Upon arriving at the Inn, I checked in under a false name. The receptionist was a middle-aged woman who glanced at me disinterestedly, took my ID, and wrote "Wang Li" in the register. I took the room key and walked down a dimly lit corridor to find my room.
The room was small, containing only a bed, a desk, and a chair. The walls were peeling, and there was a musty smell in the air. I locked the door behind me and drew the curtains, plunging the room into deeper darkness. I retrieved a spare phone from my luggage and dialed a number.
"Hello?" A man's voice came through the line, deep and hoarse.
I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "It's me."
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds before the man asked, "Is everything taken care of?"
"Yes." I nodded, my tone calm.
"Good," he replied. "Next, you will do as I say..."
I listened to his instructions, my gaze growing resolute and cold.
"Someone will be waiting for you at the old place three days from now at noon. Everything you want will be provided to you, including the truth about your mother's death." After he finished speaking, he hung up.
I set down the phone, removed my cap and mask, revealing a pale yet determined face.
I opened my luggage and took out a notebook and a pen. Flipping it open, I saw it filled with dense notes—names, addresses, phone numbers, and more. I circled one of the entries with my pen before closing the notebook and putting it back in my bag.
I walked to the bedside, took off my jacket, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling without moving.
Outside, the sky gradually brightened. Noises filled the Inn's corridor—people talking loudly, dragging luggage, and children crying. I closed my eyes, shutting out everything around me.
Three days later at noon, I arrived punctually at our agreed meeting spot—a deserted factory on the outskirts of town. The factory's gate was tightly shut, surrounded by overgrown weeds in desolation. I pushed open the slightly ajar iron door and stepped inside.
The factory interior was vast and eerie; rusty machinery stood scattered about with discarded parts and tools littering the floor. The air was thick with a pungent mix of paint fumes and dust. I looked around but saw no one.
I scanned my surroundings to confirm that no one was following me before placing my prepared backpack on the ground. From it, I pulled out a sharp dagger and a small telescope. The rusty iron door creaked slightly as it swung open; night winds whistled through holes in the factory walls.
I climbed up to the second-floor platform of the abandoned factory, stepping on rusted steel plates that creaked underfoot while cool breezes tousled my hair.
Using the telescope to survey my surroundings under the dim streetlights, I noticed that the overgrown grass surrounding the factory was eerily quiet except for a few stray cats rummaging through trash piles for food.
Confirming there were no ambushes waiting for me, I set down the telescope and pulled out a photograph from my backpack with slightly cold hands. The picture showed a middle-aged man; his wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and slight smile were unmistakable—it was none other than Dr. Yang Mu, the mysterious man I had spoken with.
I carefully folded the photograph and tucked it back into my pocket, my fingertips lightly brushing over it a few times. Taking a deep breath, I leaped off the platform, landing silently on the ground. The floor of the abandoned factory was uneven, littered with broken bricks and rusty pipes.
I walked to the center of the factory's open space and drew a clear symbol on the ground with my dagger, the blade scraping against the surface with a harsh sound. I looked up at the factory's entrance, patiently waiting for the agreed arrival, my silhouette elongated in the dim light.
At that moment, a black sedan slowly drove into the factory, its headlights cutting through the night's tranquility as it stopped in front of me. The engine's roar gradually faded away, leaving an eerie silence. The car door opened, and a burly man stepped out, dressed in a black trench coat. He walked steadily toward me, his sharp gaze scrutinizing me as if trying to see right through me.
I tucked the dagger back into my backpack, the zipper making a faint hissing sound as I silently locked eyes with him. My heart began to race, and my palms grew slightly sweaty.
The man nodded and pulled out a heavy box filled with cash from his coat, handing it to me. As I took the box, its weight made my heart sink. I didn't open it; I simply held it tightly against me.
Turning towards the back door of the factory, I pushed it open with force. Rust flaked off as a wave of decay hit me. Outside lay a narrow alleyway, dimly lit by streetlights, flanked by towering walls.
Without looking back, I stepped into the alley, my figure quickly disappearing into the darkness. I walked briskly along the narrow path, my feet sinking into the muddy ground as dampness and rot filled the air. The high walls on either side blocked out any outside light, making this place feel even more sinister. I clutched the box tightly and quickened my pace.
Suddenly, a voice called out from behind me: "Stop!"
I froze in my tracks, my heart racing. Slowly turning around, I saw a young man in a black jacket standing at the mouth of the alley, brandishing a gleaming dagger. The dim light from the streetlamp cast an eerie glow on his face, making him look cold and menacing.
He advanced toward me step by step, the blade glinting ominously before my eyes. "Hand over the box!" he snarled, a cruel smirk creeping onto his lips.
I tightened my grip on the box and forced myself to remain calm. "Who are you? What do you want?" I replied coldly.
"Cut the crap!" he shouted as he quickened his pace, pointing the dagger at me. "I don't want to say it twice—hand over the box!"
Taking a deep breath, I swiftly placed the box on the ground and pulled out another dagger that I had hidden in my backpack. His gaze fell on my weapon with surprise for just a moment before his expression hardened again.
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