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墨書 Inktalez
My thoughts were in disarray, a wave of pessimistic despair washing over me. If my assumptions were correct, no matter how hard I tried, I could not escape the ending that had already been designed for me. Why should I even bother to strive? With this thought, I suddenly felt a sense of disinterest: I was merely a character in a novel, and Zi Yi and Zi Shan were characters within my story. All of this was just the souls from one novel encountering the souls from another.
I began to understand Zi Shan's intense hatred for me. We were nothing more than lab rats, whimsically experimented on by the author, our lives fabricated as illusions. I glared at the ceiling, wishing it would transform into a sheet of paper with a giant pen scribbling across it. Looking up further, I imagined a massive face above—either joyful or angry—smoking and furiously writing.
You can arrange my fate! I can also arrange the fates of Zi Yi and Zi Shan!
What I needed to do now was finish the novel and design a perfect ending for the two sisters, bringing closure to this lingering resentment that had lasted thirteen years.
With this in mind, I rummaged through my chaotic belongings until I found a diary. I had a habit of keeping everything I had ever used because I believed that each item possessed a life of its own and should not be discarded carelessly.
That diary was the vessel for the story of Shattered Face. As I touched it, I felt as if I were connecting with the souls of Zi Yi and Zi Shan. Opening the diary, I looked at the slightly immature handwriting and felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity. It was as if Zi Shan and Zi Yi were right in front of me—one glaring at me with hatred, the other smiling gently.
Time was running short. I quickly read through it, already formulating ideas for the story's conclusion. After all, hadn’t the events of these past few days provided excellent material for a narrative? Without hesitation, I picked up my pen and continued writing. Perhaps because recounting personal experiences came easily to me, I became deeply engrossed in my writing, entering a state of flow where time seemed to vanish.
The tip of my pen scratched against the paper as the clock struck noon.
A chill crept silently into my bloodstream from my back, and without turning around, I said, "Zi Yi, is that you?"
"Yes! Father, thank you," came her soft voice from behind me as she stood beside me, quietly watching me write.
In that moment, warmth and sadness enveloped me simultaneously.
"No need to thank me; this isn't for you but for myself," I continued writing without pause.
"We cannot arrange our own destinies; we can only accept the inspiration bestowed upon us by the author, can't we?" Zi Yi is indeed a character I created, fully understanding my thoughts.
The pen paused for a moment, and the dark carbon ink formed a blot on the paper. I smiled wryly and said, "Before I met you, I never considered that I might just be a character in someone else's story."
Zi Yi sighed softly, without saying a word.
I stopped writing and turned my head. Zi Yi's long hair, which had been covering her left face, was now pulled back, revealing her flawless features tinged with a hint of sadness. This was a scene I had written; the sisters' appearances had returned to normal. I smiled with satisfaction and said, "I'm sorry for making you and your sister live in such a terrifying form for thirteen years."
Zi Yi smiled gently, like a serene landscape: "It's okay; it's not too late now."
"Zi Yi, have you seen Inception?" I asked softly.
"Inception? No, what is that?" Curiosity sparkled in Zi Yi's eyes.
"It's a movie about dreams within dreams, endlessly continuing. In the end, the protagonist can't tell whether he's dreaming or in reality." I rubbed my temples.
"Just like us, right? Characters in a book writing about other characters in a book—an infinite loop," Zi Yi nodded thoughtfully.
I laughed and said, "Zi Yi, I'll finish this novel this afternoon. You and your sister will have a happy ending. At midnight, you both will appear at Ghost Coffee House. I'll be there too; it will be the conclusion we complete together."
"Okay! We'll wait for you." Zi Yi's voice grew fainter until it finally disappeared.
At midnight, I confidently walked into the Coffee Shop with my notebook. Here, I would conclude this story and then continue on the path of my life that had already been designed for me.
The servant was absent, and Shang Da was nowhere to be found.
This is the plot I designed for my novel. Because this ending only requires the three of us to complete it.
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