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墨書 Inktalez
In the small village, rumors began to circulate. The Ling Family had not given birth to twins, but rather a two-headed monster.
The Two-Headed Monster was a harbinger of disaster. That was why the Ling Family's daughter-in-law had been drained of her life force and died. It was not due to complications during childbirth. And as for the midwife, Wang Pozi, she had been delivering babies her entire life, renowned for her skills across ten villages. How could she have died while assisting the Ling Family?
Ling Er Xiezi had calculated that with the appearance of a disaster star, misfortune would surely follow. Indeed, the snow had piled up to calf-deep, yet there was no sign of it stopping.
Panic quietly invaded every household in the village, affecting everyone.
Wang Laotou sat on the doorstep, puffing on his pipe and occasionally tapping ashes onto the ground. The metallic sound of his pipe clashing against the muddy earth produced a dull thud.
The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. In the past, when his wife was alive, they lived a hard life but often bickered; they had stumbled through more than half their lives together. Now, with a cold stove and empty home, their only daughter had married into the county town and rarely returned.
How was he supposed to live like this? The more he pondered, the angrier he became. His wife had been killed by the Ling Family's monster; surely they owed him an explanation.
Did they think they could just sweep this under the rug? There was no way things could be that simple!
Wang Laotou grabbed a raincoat and stepped out into the wind and snow.
Zhao Heitie was the village head. As the saying goes, don’t underestimate a village head. Known for his fairness, whenever there was an issue in the village, people would come to Zhao Heitie for judgment.
“Father of the child,” his wife Ruan Cuihua said with a booming voice, “I’ve heard that the Ling Family has given birth to a monster this time. As village head, you need to be careful; if something goes wrong, you might lose your position.”
Ruan Cuihua was broad-shouldered and sturdy, her voice deep and resonant. Compared to Zhao Heitie’s lean frame, she seemed like a bear paired with Sun Wukong.
Zhao Heitie replied impatiently, “Women always love to gossip. What kind of society are we in now? This is a socialist society; everything has been divided among households. Where is there still feudal superstition? You’re the village head’s wife; don’t mix with those ignorant gossipers in the village. You need to have awareness and class—understand?”
Despite Ruan Cuihua's imposing figure, she possessed some feminine gentleness and nodded in understanding.
“Bang... Bang... Bang...”
Zhao Heitie was just about to take the opportunity to educate his daughter-in-law on the new policies and guidelines, hoping to avoid any embarrassment since she was the village chief's wife. However, he was interrupted by a series of urgent knocks at the door.
As soon as the door opened, Wang Laotou rushed in, his face twisted in despair as he shouted, "Village Chief, my wife has been killed by that monster from the Ling Family! You know about this, you must help me, an old man like me!"
Zhao Heitie poured a bowl of hot water for Wang Laotou, with a few leaves of tea from his own garden floating on the surface, rising and falling in the steam-filled bowl.
"Old Wang," Zhao Heitie said, "there's a saying that one should not speak of strange forces or spirits. We are in a new society now. Even if the police are investigating, they need evidence, right? You’re putting me in a difficult position here. Besides, Ling Dajun has just lost his wife; shouldn't we all try to understand each other in this village?"
Wang Laotou opened his mouth several times but ultimately couldn't get through to Zhao Heitie. He stubbornly held his neck high and said with a flushed face, "I may not be educated, but I understand the principle: a life for a life is only right."
He slammed the bowl down onto the table with such force that water splashed everywhere before storming out without another word.
The next morning, the snow had eased slightly. Wang Laotou gathered a few young men from his family and they carried Wang Pozi's body towards the western part of the village.
It seemed they were heading to demand justice from Ling Dajun.
Along the way, yellow paper fluttered in the North Wind like swarms of butterflies. Behind them followed several younger women who cried out in despair.
With no farming to occupy their time during winter, everyone was worried about having nothing entertaining to watch. But as soon as this procession began, it stirred up excitement throughout the village, comparable to a bustling festival.
What had started as just a few pallbearers and mourners quickly grew into a large crowd of onlookers following behind them, creating an impressive spectacle. From a distance, it looked like a giant snake winding its way through the snow.
Ling Dajun heard the commotion from afar. Although he was an honest man, he sensed that trouble was coming. After hesitating for some time, he grabbed his son and ran towards the mountains behind their house.
The recent blows had caused Ling Dajun to overlook something crucial: his child had never cried. Even when being jostled in Ling Dajun's arms, there was not a single sound from him—he seemed as silent as death itself.
Wang Laotou naturally felt disappointed; the commotion he had prepared for seemed to dissipate like a sound absorbed by cotton, full of energy but lacking a place to land. In the room, apart from the body of the Ling Family Daughter-in-law lying in the center, there was no sign of Ling Dajun or the Two-Headed Monster.
The onlookers expressed their disappointment. “I thought we would get to see that Two-Headed Monster. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Someone chimed in, “Don’t lose heart, Old Wang. You can escape the monk, but you can’t escape the temple. Just settle in here; Ling Dajun will be back sooner or later.”
Another voice lamented, “If I had known this would happen, I might as well have stayed home and slept. My nose is nearly frozen off, and in the end, I saw nothing.”
As soon as it became clear that there was no spectacle to witness, the crowd that had once filled the room scattered like startled birds and beasts.
When everyone had left, Wang Laotou found himself somewhat dazed. Everything that could be taken from the house—everything from teacups to farming tools—had vanished as if locusts had swept through, leaving nothing behind.
He had originally planned to leverage his wife's death to extort a sum from Ling Dajun, but now, looking at the situation, he wondered what the already impoverished Ling Dajun could possibly give him.
In the end, he realized he had miscalculated; others had benefited while he was left to witness a farce for free.
With a wave of his hand, he signaled a few young relatives to carry Wang Pozi’s body back.
As night fell, the snow began to fall more heavily, swirling like willow catkins in the air. It danced gracefully in the howling North Wind.
In a chaotic and dilapidated house, Li Juying lay perfectly still on a door plank.
Just past midnight, the mournful North Wind seemed to carry some mysterious summons as it blew into the Ling Family's home.
Suddenly, Li Juying’s body stood upright as if controlled by strings, her arms hanging at her sides. She took a few laborious steps around the room before seemingly searching in vain and then vanished into the endless darkness.
Ruan Cuihua had been restless all night, disturbed by her eight-month-old son. Now, half-awake and groggy, she was jolted awake again by the urgent need to relieve herself. After hesitating for a moment, she finally decided to get out of bed.
Using the faint light of the snow outside, Ruan Cuihua squinted as she pulled down her pants, ready to relieve herself despite the discomfort.
Suddenly, her urge to urinate was abruptly stifled. A chill ran down her spine, and every hair on her body stood on end.
Sitting on a stool by the bed was a woman holding a baby in her arms.
Ruan Cuihua's gaze slowly shifted to the bed. Aside from a corner of the blanket that had been pulled back, her son was nowhere to be seen.
Trembling, Ruan Cuihua reached for the kerosene lamp. After striking the fifth matchstick, the lamp finally flickered to life, bringing with it a glimmer of courage and hope.
The woman’s face was ashen, her eyes hollow and dark like bottomless pits, glinting with an eerie blackness. She wore a floral jacket that was partially opened at the chest, revealing patches of dark purple bruises on her skin.
“Ying, I understand what it’s like to be a mother. I know you can’t bear to part with your child, but you can’t take my baby away from me.”
Ruan Cuihua cautiously approached Li Juying, suppressing her fear as she attempted to reclaim her son from Li Juying's arms.
Just as she reached out, the change in Li Juying's eyes terrified her so much that she stumbled backward and fell to the ground, shouting as she retreated.
Li Juying's eyes shifted from a glimmering black to blood red in an instant, piercing into Ruan Cuihua’s eyes like two deadly rays.
“Ah… ah…”
A shrill scream shattered the night sky, drowning out even the howling North Wind.
As the rooster crowed for the first time, Li Juying lay back on the door panel like a corpse, not moving at all.
Inside the house, about ten infants were sleeping in a row on the bed. However, all their faces had turned a sickly shade of blue, and there was not a hint of white in their eyes. They glowed with a chilling light.
The village was engulfed in an endless fear, and even Ling Er Xiezi, who usually loved to meddle in others' affairs, had shut his door tight and stopped stirring up trouble.
As a result, every household was filled with anxiety. Especially those who had conflicts with the Ling Family; if it weren't for the heavy snow blocking the roads, they would have likely moved away overnight.
At this moment, the village resembled a dead city.
Not far away in the deep forest, a bald monk dressed in a tattered gray robe and carrying a gourd at his waist leaped down from a tree that could be embraced by two or three people. The monk was short and had an unusual appearance; the ends of his eyebrows curved downward, while his eyes sparkled with intelligence. His nose was red like a wine-drunkard's, and his lips were slightly thick, revealing a row of pearly white teeth when he spoke. If there was anything commendable about him, it was indeed those bright white teeth.
The monk tilted his head back and took a swig from his gourd, murmuring, "No matter how fast I rushed, I still arrived late. If I had known, I wouldn't have tangled with that crazy woman."
Frowning deeply, he recalled how he had climbed to the treetop and seen that the village not far away was shrouded in a dark mist mixed with strands of blood energy. Clearly, something sinister had already begun to stir.
He hung the gourd back at his waist and glanced in a direction before sprinting off. The snow barely reached his ankles as he moved through it effortlessly. In just a few flashes, he vanished into the forest.
Only faint footprints remained behind, quickly covered by ice and snow until they disappeared without a trace.
The monk stood at the edge of the village for a moment; indeed, as he approached closer, the malevolent energy grew stronger.
He grinned widely, revealing his shining white teeth as he thought about how challenges that were more difficult only showcased one's true abilities.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked into the village.
“Who is it?” Zhao Heitie, still shaken from last night’s events, no longer mentioned any new policies. Wrapped in his blanket, he cautiously called out toward the door.
“Exorcising demons and dispelling evil for peace of mind, Zhen Zhai Zhuan Yun Zhao Tao Hua. Poor Monk happened to pass by your esteemed place and sensed a faint aura of darkness lingering here. I came to inquire if you need any assistance. After all, when calamity strikes, one life lost is not enough.” The monk pressed his palms together, appearing like a high monk who had attained enlightenment.
Zhao Heitie was startled. This monk was an outsider; if he didn’t possess some skill, how could he know so much about the affairs of the village? Moreover, through the crack in the door, he saw that although the monk’s appearance didn’t quite match that of a high monk, he was wearing only a thin robe in the icy snow. It was clear that he was someone bold and skilled to have made it to the village after the heavy snowfall.
Seizing the opportunity like a drowning man grasping at straws, Zhao Heitie welcomed the monk into his home as if he were an ancestor. He led him to the best seat and personally fetched some fine tea leaves to brew a pot of good tea.
“Master, with your noble intentions, please show us some kindness and help our village,” Zhao Heitie pleaded with a respectful bow.
“Common saying: Drinking tea on an empty stomach only makes one hungrier.” The monk’s stomach growled at an inopportune moment.
“Poor Monk has been observing the stars at night and noticed unusual phenomena here. I’ve been in such a hurry that I haven’t eaten anything warm for several days,” the monk explained with a smile.
Zhao Heitie quickly shouted toward the inner room, “Wife, bring a bowl of noodles for the master and remember to add two eggs!”
He then inwardly grumbled; with all this heavy snow lately, where could one possibly observe the stars? Yet he also thought that perhaps this high monk could see further and understand more than an ordinary person like himself.
The monk called out to the inner room again, “Make sure to add some greens and a bit of lard.”
Zhao Heitie asked suspiciously, “Isn’t it true that monks don’t consume meat?”
The monk laughed lewdly and replied, “You’re supposed to be the village head, yet you lack such basic knowledge? What kind of society are we living in now? It’s a new era; shouldn’t we keep up with the times?”
He then patted Zhao Heitie on the shoulder with an expression that suggested there was still room for improvement.
Zhao Heitie stood there, utterly bewildered. "Wait, isn't this the kind of scene I used to teach others a lesson in?" But then he thought again; he had never considered himself the village chief. How did this monk know that?
After the monk finished his third bowl of noodles, Zhao Heitie finally asked with a concerned expression, "Master, when will we exorcise demons and restore peace to the village, giving the people some reassurance?"
The monk let out a satisfied burp, rubbed his round belly, and replied nonchalantly, "No rush, no rush."
Upon hearing this, Zhao Heitie grew anxious and quickly said, "As the ancient saying goes, 'Delay leads to change.' It would be better if we..."
The monk rolled his eyes and interrupted, "Are you a ghost? Why are you wandering around aimlessly?"
He then yawned widely.
Zhao Heitie, recognizing the situation, said, "If Master is tired, you can take a rest. Resting well will help you catch ghosts more effectively."
The monk nodded in satisfaction and patted Zhao Heitie on the shoulder. "Zhao Heitie is indeed teachable."
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