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墨書 Inktalez
A bowl of white rice, chopsticks standing upright, a stick of incense, and half a cup of clear wine.
The old lady commanded Shi Mo to search for the items she needed in the small room as if she were directing a servant.
Shi Mo didn't want to comply, but the old lady stood at the door, her smile only widening upon seeing his reluctance. The strange upward curve of her lips sent chills down Shi Mo's spine. He felt a deep-seated fear, his hair standing on end.
"Grandma, I can't just rummage through your things; I might get my pay docked," he said, mustering the courage to approach her with the most sincere tone he could manage, trying to appear less confrontational.
Upon hearing this, the old lady's smile gradually returned to normal. She slowly moved closer to him, and a gentle breeze carried the faint scent of incense from her movements. She lifted the lid of a tray and said softly, "It's nothing serious; it's Grandma who asked you to do this. That little brat wouldn't dare dock your pay. The chopsticks are next to the incense, which is in my bedside drawer. As for the wine... oh dear, I'm getting forgetful; there's no wine left. Child, Grandma doesn't want any wine; just prepare the chopsticks and incense."
Seeing the old lady walk resolutely toward the bed as she spoke made it clear that if he didn't comply, he wouldn't be allowed to leave. Worried that he might miss out on something in the kitchen if he delayed any longer, Shi Mo steeled himself and turned toward the bedside table.
The room was not spacious; from the door to the bed was barely three meters. He had stood less than a meter from the door earlier, and normally it would take only five or six steps to reach the bedside table. However, with those few short steps, it felt as though he had been walking for ages. Despite visually closing in on the table, it seemed perpetually out of reach. His feet grew heavier with each step, as if filled with lead, making it increasingly difficult to move.
At the same time, Shi Mo sensed something unusual behind him. Instinctively turning his head, he found that the door had vanished, replaced by a solid wall of red bricks. This sight was terrifying enough for him; however, when he turned back around, everything had changed again. The bed, bedside table, and even the small dining table were gone, replaced by a wall of red bricks almost touching his nose.
Suddenly, both walls began to close in on him. Shi Mo reflexively shut his eyes and tried to brace himself against them but was immediately seized by a pair of cold yet strong hands gripping his arms. A deep voice whispered close to his ear: "Don't move; don't open your eyes."
A wave of intense reassurance washed over him. He obediently kept his eyes shut and stood still without daring to move an inch. Besides the sound of footsteps from the butler beside him, he could hear the old lady grumbling away. Yet now her words sounded like an incomprehensible language to him; each word was pronounced sharply with an odd intonation that made no sense together. The butler responded in kind; their conversation flowed smoothly.
The only non-Mandarin language Shi Mo knew was his hometown dialect; he understood nothing of dialects from farther regions and certainly couldn't grasp any foreign languages. The exchange between these two was something he had never heard before—he could at least confirm it wasn't English, French, or even Korean.
Curious, he perked up his ears to listen more closely but barely tilted his head when he heard the butler call out: "Shi Mo, open your eyes and do as Grandma says."
When he opened his eyes again, everything appeared normal—the room was still that room. He stood beside a table where a bowl of steaming white rice glimmered under dim light. Sitting beside the bed was the displeased old lady while the butler knelt on one knee conversing with her. The drawer of the bedside table was open, revealing a pair of wooden chopsticks and a bundle of incense about as thick as an arm.
He wanted to respond affirmatively but found himself unable to open his mouth no matter how hard he tried. The butler shook his head slightly in a gesture indicating that there was no need for him to speak. Shi Mo could hear his heart racing in anxiety. He swallowed hard and took trembling steps toward the drawer. This time he wasn't trapped; successfully retrieving the incense and chopsticks, he turned and hurried back toward where the rice was waiting for him.
Following the old lady's instructions, Shi Mo inserted the chopsticks vertically into the rice, placing an incense stick one centimeter in front of them. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit the incense. As the flame extinguished on its own, a wisp of white smoke spiraled upward, quickly bending in mid-air and drifting toward the old lady.
Following the smoke with his gaze, Shi Mo was astonished to see the old lady inhaling it. He watched as she took a deep breath, and the smoke thickened with her movement, disappearing completely within two breaths. The ash fell onto the rice, creating a grayish layer that made Shi Mo feel a pang of sympathy for the bowl of rice.
The old lady's face radiated satisfaction as her expression shifted from initial displeasure to extreme enjoyment. She even closed her eyes, revealing a deep sense of contentment and pleasure, softly murmuring, "This little one's rice is indeed delicious."
"I'm glad you like it, Grandma." The butler noticed her happiness and immediately stood up, gracefully placing a kiss on the back of her hand. This made the old lady burst into hearty laughter, and she stood up to walk over to Shi Mo, giving him a hearty slap on the lower back.
"This young man is quite nice but timid. If anyone bullies you in the future, just tell Grandma, and I'll help you deal with them." The old lady was small in stature, and her hunched back made her appear even shorter; standing next to Shi Mo, she barely reached his chest. However, her strength was immense; that slap almost made Shi Mo feel as if his spine had shattered. He steadied himself by gripping the table and turned to thank her with a forced smile.
The butler acted swiftly, securing the bowl and tray with one hand while discreetly helping Shi Mo up with the other as they made their way to the door. As they reached the entrance, he reminded the old lady to rest early and that she could call for him if needed.
The brilliant sunlight quickly dispelled the chill surrounding Shi Mo, giving him a fleeting sense of being alive again. Leaning against the flowerbed, he held his waist in despair as he watched the butler skillfully burying leftover rice in the flowerbed, feeling that what he had just experienced was utterly surreal.
Perhaps his acceptance of the situation was unexpected for the butler; while Shi Mo stretched his back to ease his pain, he heard the butler ask him, "Don't you have any questions?"
Shi Mo turned his head slightly and pondered for a moment before extracting what he deemed most important from his thoughts. Straightening up, he took the tray and bowl from the butler's hands and said, "That grandma... she's not human, right?"
"Why do you say that?" A strange emotion flickered in the butler's eyes—something like excitement mixed with delight. Shi Mo scratched his head awkwardly and smiled at him, explaining that his family believed in such things and had told him many stories about non-human beings since childhood, including one about feeding ghosts.
If such a scene were to occur at his own dining table, he would surely be beaten with a broom by his parents. "Besides," Shi Mo continued hesitantly, "the old lady didn't eat any rice; she just inhaled the aroma."
The butler chuckled genuinely at this revelation, admiration shining in his eyes. As they walked toward the kitchen together casually, he asked if Shi Mo was afraid. Shi Mo had no intention of lying about it; he replied honestly, "I am a bit scared, but I can accept it. I just don't understand why that old lady does this."
"We all call her Candy Grandma; she's one of our regulars in this building. She comes to room 5 every year during the lunar seventh month for a month-long stay. She loves sweets and rice and goes out at night for errands. Since we change chefs every year in this building, she always plays around with the new chef. The fact that you can see she's not human and still accept this playful interaction shows you're quite suited for this place," explained the butler.
Shi Mo stood by the stove, feeling a mix of emotions. Before coming here, he had a rough idea of what to expect. He thought that the Immortal-Retrieving Pavilion was remote and mysterious, and that the small houses on the top floor were meant to accommodate sensitive clients. He never imagined that the guests would not even be human. After being genuinely startled by the antics of the old lady today, he had briefly considered quitting when surrounded by the two red brick walls, but now, with less than five hours into his official job, resigning felt irresponsible.
"Brother," he took a deep breath to regain his composure and looked directly at the butler, voicing his true feelings, "can you be honest with me? Are most of our clients like that old lady... um, beings?"
Shi Mo swallowed the word "ghost," which almost slipped out, opting for a more neutral description. The butler nodded in acknowledgment.
"I assume A Yue has informed you that our working hours are unconventional. This is because our clients are not accustomed to appearing during the day. If you can accept the existence of spirits, you should also be mentally prepared to interact with them daily. If you're not ready, I can report to the Host and send you back; we can find someone else without any pressure."
Shi Mo began to feel conflicted. From a normal person's perspective, cooking for numerous spirits was utterly absurd; posting about it online would only lead people to think he was writing strange stories. However, from his standpoint as a worker without savings or a home, this place was indeed odd but offered free meals and accommodation in a decent environment with high pay. Aside from the peculiar clientele, there were no other drawbacks.
His silence went unprompted as the butler quietly moved to the kitchen to wash the dishes they had just used. Watching the butler's back, Shi Mo's mind wandered to A Yue's charming face. He prided himself on growing up surrounded by bizarre tales and had imagined countless times how it would feel to thrive in such an extraordinary world; now it seemed like a dream come true.
"I'm not going to force anything," Shi Mo said firmly. "I will do my best here. Brother, if I have any questions in the future, please teach me."
The butler smiled sincerely at his response and softly agreed. "If I'm too busy to answer your questions promptly, feel free to ask Candy Grandma or A Yue. But regarding serving dishes in the kitchen, even if it takes two hours, wait for me. Our guests won’t mind slow service; they will only be upset if there’s an error with their food."
As they spoke, Shi Mo noticed the butler let out a soft sigh before his voice dropped to a whisper: "It's truly rare to meet someone like you."
Shi Mo resonated with this sentiment; after all, ordinary people would run away from ghosts rather than willingly cook for them. Fully accepting his current situation, he suddenly felt hungry again and turned to boil water for instant noodles. Just as he tore open the seasoning packet, the butler silently approached him with an inquisitive look.
"Uh... it's just ordinary instant noodles. Haven't you seen them before?" Shi Mo realized that the curiosity in the butler's eyes was genuine. He glanced at the container in his hands and pondered before asking if he wanted to try some.
The answer was an enthusiastic yes. The butler displayed intense interest in what Shi Mo was doing, closely following him as he added ingredients and water. When Shi Mo pressed down on the aluminum foil lid and asked whether he preferred soft or hard noodles, the man—who stood ten centimeters taller than him—displayed an unexpectedly innocent expression for his age and gently shook his head in confusion.
Shi Mo thought this person was incredibly fascinating but quickly accepted this reality, reasoning that perhaps it was due to strict upbringing that had kept the butler from encountering such things before.
"Do you prefer a soft texture or a hard one? If you like it soft, soak it longer; if hard, soak it for a shorter time." He took chopsticks from the drawer and handed them over, watching as the butler removed his gloves and accepted the chopsticks with a reverent gesture, though his grip was quite awkward.
"Either is fine." The butler moved a stool over and sat beside him, staring intently at the paper bowl. His dark, shiny eyes sparkled under the reflection of the stainless steel stove. Shi Mo instructed him to wait until he returned to open the lid, then went back to his room to fetch a new bucket.
As the butler watched him enter, he tilted his head and asked why he needed another portion. Shi Mo felt a bit helpless and redefined his impression of this seemingly clever and quick-witted person. He explained that he hadn't eaten either and couldn't work on an empty stomach.
This made the butler suddenly stand up, asking him to wait. Shi Mo's bucket was snatched away and placed aside as the butler moved through the kitchen with an even quicker pace than usual, retrieving items from cabinets and starting the fire in one fluid motion. When Shi Mo caught the scent of meat, he realized that the butler was cooking for him and hurriedly stood up to help, but two beautifully plated dishes were already set before him.
One plate held a steak, while the other featured a salad with cherry tomatoes cut into decorative shapes. The butler smiled sincerely at him and said, "Since you’ve shared your meal with me, I must thank you. I hope you enjoy it."
"I do, I do." Shi Mo didn't want to disappoint the butler and thanked him while reminding him that his portion was ready to eat as well.
The butler ate quietly, his slow movements making Shi Mo, who was used to eating quickly, feel somewhat uncomfortable. He also noticed that this man was quite sensitive to heat; each bite had to be blown on until cool before going into his mouth, and he never slurped his noodles—he would bite off pieces instead.
The steak he was eating was cooked to perfection with just the right amount of black pepper sauce, while the salad was bursting with flavor—definitely something that would be popular in any restaurant. Shi Mo served himself a bowl of rice; he simply loved the taste of the food here too much.
【How do you feel about your first day at work?】A message from A Yue captured all of Shi Mo's attention. He stopped observing the butler and began replying while eating. To avoid startling A Yue, he omitted some details about Candy Grandma's story and simply mentioned that he quite liked working here, casually asking if A Yue had eaten.
【I have. The staff meal is quite good. I'm on night shift at Seventeenth Floor tonight, so you'll have to whip up something special for me later!】
【No problem.】Making friends with A Yue was one of Shi Mo's reasons for deciding to stay.
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