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墨書 Inktalez
In the afternoon, Yang Su arrived at the Village Office again. The same middle-aged man was on duty, and upon seeing him, he shook his head. "The leader isn't here today. If you have something to discuss, come back another day."
"I'm just here to check some records," Yang Su smiled, pulling out two packs of cigarettes from his bag. "I appreciate your help."
The middle-aged man glanced at the cigarettes and then at him. "What exactly do you want to check?"
"Records from the 1990s."
"Those are old records, kept in the archives..." The man hesitated for a moment. "Never mind, you can go look for yourself. The archives are in the backyard. Just don’t go rummaging around; I didn’t send you there."
The archives were housed in a brick building, thick with dust inside. Yang Su used the light from his phone to search through the rows of files. Soon, he found a file from 1993, the year Zhou Yue's mother passed away.
The yellowed pages contained neatly recorded information: Wang Lanzhi, female, 28 years old, elementary school teacher, died by hanging due to mental instability.
Flipping further, he found an investigation report: the deceased had repeatedly claimed to hear bells and mentioned someone performing the "White-Clad Woman Play" in the classroom. It was noted that she had a history of mental illness, and the case was classified as a suicide by a mentally ill person.
He then pulled out the family records: husband Zhou Deming (42 years old), daughter Zhou Yue (3 years old).
A yellowed photograph fell out of the file. It depicted a young woman with a gentle demeanor, her features somewhat resembling Zhou Yue's. On the back of the photo was written: "Wang Lanzhi, 1992 School Anniversary Performance."
Suddenly, a cold breeze swept through, causing the light from his phone to flicker. Yang Su felt a chill run down his spine as if someone were watching him. He turned sharply and saw a figure in white flash past.
"Who’s there?"
No one answered. He rushed outside; the backyard was empty except for a few Old Huai Trees swaying in the wind.
Just as Yang Su was about to leave, he noticed a depression under one of the trees, as if something heavy had been pressing down on it for a long time. The edges of the depression were darkened and emitted a faint metallic scent. He crouched down to examine it closely and discovered something buried in the soil.
Using a stick to scrape away the top layer of dirt revealed a rusty copper plate. Inscribed on it were several blurred characters: "Renzi Year Ritual Altar Reconstruction." Judging by the date, it seemed to be from sixty years ago.
Flipping over the copper plate revealed a simple diagram—a top-down view of an Underground Altar. The most striking feature was a central Bagua Pattern that resembled what he had seen in Wang Lanzhi's notes but with some differences in detail. Each direction of the Bagua was marked with strange symbols, particularly emphasizing the symbol for Gen Position, next to which was a small character for "door."
As he studied it further, he heard rustling sounds behind him. Turning around, he noticed several cracks appearing on the trunk of the Huai Tree as if something had clawed at it. Dark red liquid seeped from the cracks, carrying a familiar herbal scent.
Even more bizarrely, that liquid seemed to be flowing together on the ground into some kind of pattern. In the moonlight, it took on the shape of a robed figure holding something aloft.
Suddenly, there was a muffled thud from underground as if something was moving. Yang Su pressed his ear to the ground; it seemed to be coming from the direction of Gen Position. He recalled that Village Chronicle mentioned an ancient well had once been located there before being filled in.
A gust of cold wind blew through; suddenly, the cracks in the tree vanished along with the pattern on the ground. But Yang Su clearly remembered its shape—it resembled exactly what was depicted in the photo from the archives showing the White-Clad Woman Play.
He tucked away the copper plate into his bag and returned to the archives to continue his research. Just as he settled back into his spot, he heard voices coming from next door.
"Here again for records?" It was an elderly woman's voice.
"Yeah, but I can't find much," came the middle-aged man's voice in response. "That kid seems to know something; he's been asking about the bell tower."
"Stop wasting time with him," the old woman said. "Quickly destroy those things. The village chief said there must be no traces left."
"But..."
"There’s no 'but'!" The old woman suddenly raised her voice. "You know very well that at this time, 'they' become particularly active. If he finds out anything..."
Before she could finish her sentence, a bell rang outside. Both of them fell silent.
"Oh no," the old woman's voice trembled, "they can't wait any longer..."
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