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墨書 Inktalez
In District XX, the old residential building loomed in the night like a silent giant.
I held the piece of paper that had been pressed into my hand by Du Rong, my knuckles turning white as doubts churned in my mind.
Doctor Zhang?
The name sounded like a clue from some old movie, shrouded in mystery.
I arrived at a pitch-black iron door, where a rusted sign reading "Zhang's Medical Clinic" hung crookedly, as if it might fall at any moment.
I raised my hand and knocked gently a few times.
The wooden door creaked open slowly, revealing a narrow gap.
A thin figure appeared behind the door, dim light glinting off his gold-rimmed glasses, reflecting a cold gleam.
"Are you Wang Zheng?"
His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against wood, sending chills down my spine.
I didn’t respond, merely nodded, my eyes scanning the interior warily.
The clinic was filled with a strong scent of traditional Chinese herbs, mingled with a faint metallic smell of blood.
"Come in," he said, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter.
I stepped inside, cautiously observing my surroundings.
The interior of the clinic was sparsely furnished: a few old wooden chairs, a cabinet brimming with medicinal ingredients, and a treatment table marred by countless knife marks.
In the corner, a figure curled up there was obscured in shadows, making it impossible to discern their features.
“Don’t look anymore; that’s my patient.”
Doctor Zhang’s voice carried a hint of impatience.
He walked over to the examination bed, picked up a silver needle, and began to disinfect it.
“Did Du Rong send you?”
He suddenly spoke, startling me.
I turned to him sharply, filled with confusion.
What connection could there be between Du Rong and this Doctor Zhang?
“She... was forced.”
It was as if Doctor Zhang could see through my thoughts. He paused his actions, his voice low.
“In this world, there are some things we cannot choose.”
He stepped in front of me and handed me a photograph.
It was an old picture, and the girl in it was unmistakably Du Rong.
She wore a white dress, her smile innocent, her eyes devoid of the worldly wisdom and weariness she now bore.
The background of the photo was a vast sea of flowers, bathed in bright sunlight.
Yet in the lower right corner of the photo, there was an inconspicuous little tear.
There, a glimpse of a black garment peeked through.
I stared intently at that corner, a familiar feeling washing over me.
The corner of the garment was unmistakably the black trench coat of Li Yan.
"What... what is going on?"
I felt a tightness in my throat, and my voice turned hoarse.
Doctor Zhang sighed, a hint of compassion in his eyes.
"Du Rong is not what you think."
He slowly began to tell a story, one about Du Rong being coerced by dark forces, gradually sinking into a quagmire.
Her family was threatened, her future was hijacked.
She was forced to become their pawn, gathering intelligence and relaying messages for them in restaurants.
And that photograph was evidence of her being compelled to "collaborate" with Li Yan at that time.
Her tears fell like beads from a broken string, continuously streaming down, yet she dared not make a sound.
"She wanted revenge, but she had no way out."
Doctor Zhang's voice struck me like a heavy hammer, crashing down on my heart.
Suddenly, I remembered Du Rong's eyes, always filled with confusion, and the slightly revealing uniform she wore.
It turned out that was not her intention at all.
She was merely struggling in her own way, fighting against despair.
My heart felt as if it had been violently torn open, pain spreading through me.
I had always thought of myself as the victim, the only one manipulated by fate.
But now, I realize that Du Rong has endured far more than I have.
“She hopes you can help her.”
Doctor Zhang's voice pulled me back from my thoughts.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with expectation.
I clutched the photograph tightly, as if a heavy stone were pressing down on my heart.
Revenge was no longer just my affair.
It was not only for myself but also for Du Rong and for everyone controlled by dark forces.
I gazed at Du Rong's innocent smile in the photo, and a strong sense of responsibility surged within me.
“I will.”
My voice was firm, and my eyes sparkled with an unprecedented light.
I carefully placed the photograph into my pocket, as if I were safeguarding a priceless treasure.
I stepped out of the clinic, the night breeze brushing against me, bringing a hint of coolness.
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