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墨書 Inktalez
I followed Jiang Yao through the gap behind the stone tablet, and an icy chill enveloped me instantly, as if I had fallen into the Eternal Ice Cave, making my teeth chatter.
This chill was not just a matter of temperature; it felt like a sinister, bone-chilling presence that penetrated my very marrow.
Beyond the gap was not the underground chamber I had imagined, but a dimly lit corridor.
The walls on either side flickered with an eerie green light, dancing like Ghost Fire, brightening and dimming, casting shadows on the mottled walls, resembling the entrance to hell.
The green glow sent shivers down my spine, making me feel as if something lurked in the darkness, watching me.
Jiang Yao's figure floated ahead, elusive like a ghost. Under the ghostly green light, her silhouette appeared even more ethereal and uncanny.
I followed closely behind, not daring to slacken my pace for a moment, fearing that if I lost focus, she would vanish into the dark corridor.
My heart raced wildly, as if it would leap out of my chest. I felt dry in my mouth and my breathing quickened.
At the end of the corridor stood an Ancient Wooden Door, intricately carved with patterns that exuded a strange aura—like some ancient totem or a mysterious incantation.
Unable to resist, I reached out to touch the carvings. A wave of icy sensation shot through my fingertips, causing me to shudder involuntarily.
Jiang Yao gently pushed open the door, and a wave of decay rushed toward us, mingled with a strong musty smell and dust. I instinctively covered my nose as nausea churned in my stomach.
The room inside was dim and damp, filled with an oppressive moldy odor as if no one had set foot here for ages.
In the center of the room stood an old wooden table with an oil lamp on it. The light was dim and flickering, casting wavering shadows in the dark room that added to the eerie atmosphere.
On the table lay a letter; its envelope had yellowed with age and its edges curled as if it had endured many years. The handwriting was blurred, almost illegible.
Jiang Yao pointed at the letter, her voice low and hoarse like whispers from hell: "This is my Last Will."
My heart skipped a beat. Could this be the answer I had been searching for all along?
Did this letter contain all the secrets of the old house, Jiang Yao's grievances, and the roots of her suffering?
I eagerly picked up the letter. As my fingertips brushed against its rough surface, an inexplicable tension surged within me.
I carefully opened it, afraid that I might tear this yellowed paper with a careless move.
The paper had turned yellow over time; the writing was unclear. I strained to decipher the words as if unraveling a long-buried history.
In the letter, Jiang Yao recounts her story, one filled with love, hatred, and conflict—a heartbreaking tale.
Jiang Yao was born into a wealthy family, living a life of luxury from a young age, cherished by her parents like a precious gem.
She had a childhood sweetheart, a lover she grew up with. Their bond was deep and innocent, promising to be together for life.
They climbed trees to find bird nests, chased each other in the fields, and shared their joys and sorrows. Their love was pure and beautiful, like a fairy tale.
However, their love faced fierce opposition from their families, shattering their peaceful and happy lives like a bolt from the blue.
Jiang Yao's family, driven by greed and the desire to align with the powerful, forced her to marry a man she did not love—a wealthy and aging man who wielded great power.
Unwilling to accept her fate, Jiang Yao fought back. She struggled, cried out, and pleaded, but ultimately succumbed to her family's pressure. She was compelled to don the wedding gown and marry the man she had never loved.
On her wedding night, her beloved—desperate and reckless—burst into her room and whisked her away. They fled from the oppressive confines of her family.
They escaped to a place where no one knew them, living under assumed identities. Though poor, they were free and filled with happiness.
Yet their joy was short-lived; it vanished like a fleeting dream.
Jiang Yao's family sent assassins after them. They lived in constant fear until one stormy night when her lover was killed by an assassin sent by her family while trying to protect her.
Devastated by grief, Jiang Yao lost the one she loved most. The world felt as if it had collapsed around her. Anger, resentment, and despair consumed her; she yearned for revenge.
Returning to the old house—the place that once imprisoned her—she vowed to make those who had wronged her pay dearly for their actions.
She began to learn the dark arts of curses. At any cost, she sought powerful abilities to send her enemies straight to hell.
In the end, she succeeded. Using her curses, she killed those who had harmed her, ensuring they met terrible fates.
However, she paid a heavy price for her vengeance.
Her soul became bound by the curse, forever trapped within that old house—unable to find peace or escape.
After reading this letter, I felt a profound shock and sadness mixed with sympathy.
I finally understood Jiang Yao's resentment, grasped her pain, and realized why she had become what she was now.
She was not an evil spirit; she was merely a pitiful woman—a victim of fate—who sacrificed everything for love.
I lifted my head and looked at Jiang Yao. Her eyes were filled with tears, crystal clear like pearls that had come loose from their string, rolling down one by one.
"Do you understand now?" Her voice trembled, carrying a hint of choking emotion, a touch of helplessness, and a sense of relief.
I nodded, my own eyes brimming with tears—tears for Jiang Yao's tragic fate and for the injustices of this world.
"I understand," I replied, my voice also shaking, imbued with a weighty sense of respect and a promise.
A faint smile appeared on Jiang Yao's face, like a ray of sunshine in winter—warm yet fleeting.
"Thank you. You finally understand," she said softly, as if shedding a heavy burden.
"I will help you fulfill your wish," I declared firmly, feeling an undeniable sense of responsibility.
Jiang Yao nodded slowly and said, "My wish is simple. I hope you can tell my story to the world, so that people know my grievances and my pain."
Without hesitation, I agreed.
"I will. I will definitely tell your story to the world." My voice was filled with strength and determination.
A smile spread across Jiang Yao's face—a smile of liberation, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, finally free.
Her figure gradually became blurred until she vanished completely, like the morning mist dissipating into the air.
I was left alone in the room, standing quietly with a heart full of sorrow yet also filled with hope.
I had finally completed my mission; I had unraveled the secrets of the old house.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to leave the room.
As I stepped out, I saw Chen Mo standing at the door, concern etched on her face.
"Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.
I shook my head but smiled back at her.
"I'm fine. I've uncovered the secrets of the old house."
Chen Mo's expression turned to one of surprise.
"Really? You really figured it out?"
I nodded.
"Yes, I have solved it."
A smile appeared on Chen Mo's face, a look of relief.
"Congratulations, you finally did it."
I looked at Chen Mo, my heart filled with gratitude.
"Thank you, thank you for all your help along the way."
Chen Mo shook his head.
"No need to thank me; it's what I should do."
I smiled and then left the old house with Chen Mo.
As we stepped out of the old house, I felt as if I had been reborn, my heart filled with ease and joy.
I had finally escaped the shadow of the old house; I could finally start a new life.
Yet, a faint sense of unease lingered in my heart. Where was this unease coming from?
(End of chapter)
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