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The Half-Butterfly's Legacy
墨書 Inktalez
She was preoccupied until the day she worked late into the night, when the lights in the archive room suddenly went out. She turned on her phone's flashlight and swept it across the price list on the table, only to discover a pattern hidden among the numbers—every three lines, the prices jumped, like some kind of code. Referring to the map, she found that Nanchang Road No. 17 was prominently listed. At that moment, the sound of rain came from outside, deep and probing. Lin Sui packed her belongings, took a letter from home, and decided to take a look.
The door of the old house was ajar, as if waiting for her. As she pushed the door open, the hinges creaked loudly, like nails scraping against glass. She switched on her flashlight; at the end of the narrow corridor stood a wooden staircase, its handrails long eaten away by termites. The air was damp and cold, mingled with a faint sweet rot, reminiscent of decaying flowers. She stepped carefully; the floorboards creaked underfoot as if they might collapse at any moment. Reaching the second floor, she opened a door to find a bathroom with tiles glowing a ghostly green.
Lin Sui stood at the bathroom door, her flashlight beam sweeping over a corner where a piece of yellowed paper peeked out from between the tiles. She crouched down and pried loose a crumbling tile with her fingernail, revealing a boat ticket hidden inside. The ticket was blurry but printed with "April 25, 1947, Shanghai to Ningbo." She frowned; memories of her university studies on Shanghai's maritime history flashed through her mind—on that day, students had gone on strike and port operations had ceased; how could this ticket possibly be used? Flipping it over, she found an inscription: "Shen Jingqiu, Cabin A-13."
Shen Jingqiu, that name struck her like a stone thrown into calm waters. She remembered reading in the archives that in April 1947, a female writer from the French Concession had gone missing; an article in the Damei Evening News had run with the headline "Mystery Surrounds Female Writer's Night Escape." Rumors had it that she took away twenty gold bars but left behind wings of a Blue Butterfly, becoming a topic of gossip around Shanghai at that time. Lin Sui stared at the ticket, her fingers unconsciously tightening around it. At that moment, the sound of rain outside stopped; inside was so quiet it made her ears ring. A chill ran down her spine as if eyes were watching her from the shadows.
She stuffed the ticket into her pocket and decided to leave. As she turned around, her flashlight beam swept across the bathroom mirror covered in thick dust. Wiping it with her hand revealed her pale face—her pupils shrank to pinpricks. She froze as something seemed to move at the edge of the mirror. Whirling around suddenly, she found nothing behind her—only rain tapping against the window again like fingernails scratching glass. Taking a deep breath, she hurried down the stairs but paused at the landing. On the wall was a damp stain shaped like an outspread butterfly, glaringly blue. As she leaned closer to examine it, she noticed it was slowly spreading as if it were breathing.
Lin Sui stepped back, her heart pounding like a drum. She pulled out her phone to take a picture but found her hands trembling uncontrollably. Just then, the old house's lights—the ones that had clearly been turned off—suddenly flickered on before quickly going dark again. She screamed as her flashlight fell to the ground, its beam dancing wildly. Picking it up again, she gritted her teeth and ran toward the door only to find that the iron gate had somehow closed itself. She pulled hard on it; it wouldn't budge. Behind her came soft footsteps on the stairs—one step after another—as if someone were testing her limits.
Lin Sui pressed against the door, breathing heavily. She had always been afraid of darkness and everything unpredictable since childhood. The year her mother disappeared when she was six years old, she remembered waking up at night to find an empty space beside her bed and seeing a blue butterfly resting on the screen window outside; its wings felt cold against her skin. It was only later that she realized that was her last memory of her mother. Afterward, she learned to suppress fear with logic, but now fear surged over her like a tide breaching its banks.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down. The boat ticket, Shen Jingqiu, Blue Butterfly—these clues felt like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit together. She recalled those yellowed files in the archive room and sensed that answers lay hidden in some corner there. Opening her eyes again, she focused on the butterfly shadow on the wall. It wasn’t just water stains; it was some kind of mark burned into the wall. A wave of dizziness washed over her as time seemed to freeze at that moment; the air in the old house pressed down on her chest making it hard to breathe. She wanted to escape but felt vaguely that all of this was connected to her.
Lin Sui forced herself to regain composure and walked back toward the bathroom determined to uncover more truths. Holding up the boat ticket under her flashlight's beam revealed that ink seemed to be seeping slightly through—like tears. Frowning as she prepared to put it away, an old lamp in the room—a dusty brass lamp—suddenly flickered to life. She froze as its light pulsed erratically like it was gasping for breath. Slowly lifting her gaze revealed that the butterfly shadow on the wall had shifted—not just moved but transformed. The blue wings morphed into a series of symbols resembling numbers or letters. Staring at this pattern made her heart nearly stop.
She pulled out her letter from home and compared it against numbers on the price list. Oh my God! That wasn’t just moisture—it was code—the dark language for exchanging gold bars on the black market in 1947! Her lips went dry and fingers turned icy cold as outside came a low hum like wings beating against glass. She spun around abruptly; there was nothing on the windowsill but she distinctly felt something cold pressing against her neck—a chilling touch that sent shivers down her spine.
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