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墨書 Inktalez
After finishing breakfast, my dad and mom went out to work. I wanted to follow them, but they refused, saying I wouldn't be able to handle it.
I didn't insist too much, as the wound on my foot was still healing, and after soaking it all night, it was likely to get infected.
Sitting alone in the house, the sunlight grew increasingly intense.
My mind was filled with images from last night. I felt a strong awareness, as if I had nearly drowned several times after jumping into the river. Then it seemed someone had saved me.
Thinking of this, I suddenly connected it to that dream where my grandmother asked me to bring my wife to see her at night.
However, in my daze, I vaguely remembered a beautiful girl in a red dress appearing.
As I tried to think further, my mind went blank, and I felt a slight headache coming on.
But the lingering presence of the Soybean spirit must have a reason; otherwise, it wouldn't have latched onto me. Yet last night, it clearly wanted my life.
At this thought, I couldn't help but gasp in shock, recalling how it kept calling me "brother." My scalp tingled at the memory.
I returned to my bedroom, where the wooden box my grandmother left me was still by my pillow. Looking at that wooden box brought me an inexplicable sense of relief.
When my parents returned around noon, I prepared lunch for them. After eating, they went out again.
Watching my dad's silhouette as he left, I suddenly remembered what he said yesterday: "Don't walk with your eyes closed." There had to be a deeper meaning behind those words. Moreover, my dad had surprisingly asked about my love life yesterday, which made me suspect he knew something more than he let on.
My dad usually wasn't talkative, but those two sentences seemed to hide something significant.
I stayed in the house, checking my wound carefully. Fortunately, it hadn't gotten infected, but it still hurt a bit.
My phone was nearly charged, so I opened it out of boredom. After turning it on, I noticed several missed calls, all from Fatty Zhang.
There was also one unknown number.
I decided to ignore the unknown number; there are many scammers these days. I called Fatty Zhang back, but to my surprise, it was Zhang Dexin who answered.
"Xiao Ning, is that you? This is your Uncle Zhang. Borlun left his phone with me. What do you need him for?"
At first, I didn't quite register what he said. Once I did, I felt an urge to hang up immediately after calling out to Uncle Zhang.
Zhang Dexin coming to find me could only mean trouble. However, since he was Fatty Zhang's uncle, I had no choice but to continue the conversation.
I replied, "Is Fatty Zhang not around? If he's not here, then I have nothing to discuss. Please have him call me when he gets back. I'll hang up now."
Just as I was about to end the call, Zhang Dexin quickly said, "Xiao Ning, don't hang up yet! I still have a few things to discuss with you."
His true intentions were starting to show; he must have some ulterior motive regarding me or that box.
Out of politeness, I patiently responded, "Uncle Zhang, go ahead. I'm listening."
Zhang Dexin chuckled a few times before speaking again. "Xiao Ning, I've received a wooden box from the Qing Dynasty recently that looks very similar to yours. I'd like to borrow your box to compare them and see if the quality is the same. Also, I really think you should visit that old temple; it's necessary."
"Hello... Uncle Zhang, I'm currently at my family's place in the countryside where the signal isn't very good. Hello..." And then I hung up the phone.
The Old Fox was indeed after my Wooden Box.
After the call ended, my world became quiet.
Then I thought of Soybean. I suddenly wanted to see where he was buried; perhaps his lingering resentment stemmed from being buried in the wrong place.
After putting on my clothes again, I stepped outside.
Last night felt like a nightmare to me.
I picked up my phone, ready to leave, when I suddenly remembered the person who saved me last night. Could it have been that woman who often called me?
And the girl in the red dress I saw in my daze last night—could she be the same person?
Connecting these two thoughts, it seemed plausible, but I couldn't be sure; it was just a guess in my heart.
Once outside, I wasn't foolish enough to directly ask Third Uncle where Soybean was buried. Instead, I sought out a few kids from the village who were usually close to Soybean.
I offered them some money as an incentive, and they eagerly led me to that place. To be honest, children are much less aware of fear compared to adults.
Adults tend to be much more sensitive to fear.
The kids called me Saning Brother and quickly guided me to Soybean's burial site. It was located upstream by the river, about a mile or two from the village, where there were few residents—a spot rarely visited by anyone.
Upon reaching the location, one of the kids asked me, "Saning Brother, do you know how Soybean died?"
"I know!" I replied.
But the child said to me, "Saning Brother, let me tell you something you definitely don't know. Did you know that Soybean was acting strangely the day before he died?"
I quickly asked, "What happened to Soybean before he died? What was strange about him?"
The child continued, "Saning Brother, the day before Soybean died, we went to play in the water. But Soybean was particularly off that day, and his face looked really bad. Later, he even told us, 'I might be going to a place tomorrow where you won't be able to find me. Someone is waiting for me there.'"
"We didn't think much of it at the time. We usually played together and talked about everything, so we just assumed Soybean was joking. But unexpectedly, the next day, Soybean drowned while playing in the water, and it was clear he did it on purpose."
Hearing this, waves of unease surged within me. Could it be that Soybean had sensed his own death and chose to drown himself?
Wasn't that too sensational?
I looked at the children and asked, "Are you telling the truth or just making this up?"
One child replied, "Saning Brother, every word we say is true. We played so well with Soybean; we didn't want anything bad to happen to him."
Another child chimed in, "Saning Brother, we would never lie to you. I think it was a water ghost that killed Soybean."
After Soybean's death, no one dared to swim in that river anymore.
I looked at Soybean's grave; it was just a small mound of earth. In rural areas, there are rules about burials: minors cannot have headstones after they die. Some villages are even stricter; they won't bury the body at all but will only dispose of it.
This is because people in rural areas believe that burying a child in an ancestral grave is unlucky due to their short lifespan.
I looked at Soybean's grave and thought to myself that I should buy some Yuanbao Candles later to pay my respects.
As I pondered, I found the situation quite eerie. Could it be that Soybean somehow knew he was going to die and chose to drown himself?
It sounded a bit convoluted, and even more absurd when I considered it.
At that moment, it was around two or three in the afternoon. Concerned about the worries of the children's parents, I decided to take them away from there.
I wondered what Soybean had seen or experienced. For a child to make the decision to "kill" themselves, what kind of determination must that take?
Even for an adult, deciding to end their own life would require immense resolve! And perhaps even then, they might not find the courage.
After we left, one of the children said to me, "Saning Brother, you mustn't go out tonight! Soybean's spirit is still out there; he was killed by a water ghost, and he might be looking for a replacement!"
I understood what he meant. We have a legend here about water ghosts who lurk in the water, waiting for suitable victims to drag down and drown. Once they succeed, the water ghost can be reincarnated, while the drowned person takes their place as a water ghost, waiting for the next victim...
I wasn't sure if this was just a tale adults used to scare children away from swimming, but it did sound somewhat plausible at that moment.
When I returned home, I prepared the leftover Yuanbao Candles from my grandmother's memorial service to offer them to Soybean.
Just as I was about to head out, my phone rang...
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