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墨書 Inktalez
We walked for about ten more minutes when I suddenly felt something wet on my hand. Looking down, I saw a drop of water on the back of my hand. "Which jerk is watering the flowers upstairs?" I almost blurted out, but then it struck me that we were walking on a country road; how could anyone be watering flowers from above? Could it be bird droppings? With that thought, I looked up, and another drop landed on my glasses. Oh, it turned out to be raining.
I took a raincoat from the toolbox and gestured for Yuan Yun to put it on. Although she still wore a stern expression, she accepted the raincoat and held it high above us by the collar.
So there we were, with Yuan Yun holding the raincoat while I pushed the motorcycle, somewhat foolishly trudging along in the rain.
At first, it was a fine drizzle, but gradually it transformed into a torrential downpour.
"Why don't we find somewhere to take shelter?" Yuan Yun suggested, her tone seemingly less angry than before.
"Alright," I replied, stopping to look around. We were at the junction of urban and rural areas near a national highway. Aside from the endless road, there were various trees of different heights around us, but no place to take cover. I felt quite disappointed.
"Look over there..." Yuan Yun suddenly shouted. Following her voice, I spotted a corner of an ancient eave.
When we reached the eave, we discovered it was part of an old mansion with tall walls that had an antique charm. Under the oppressive dark clouds, it appeared somewhat eerie.
I approached and knocked on the door knocker; the sound was much softer than I had expected, almost drowned out by the rain. Then I noticed a red button in the upper right corner of the eave—it was a doorbell. I reached out and pressed it lightly twice.
After a few seconds—or perhaps longer—we heard a voice asking, "Who is it?" It startled us, and we looked around until we realized the voice came from a small speaker on the other side of the door, with a round object next to it that looked like a surveillance camera.
"Hello, we're just passing through. We were planning to go to Y Town, but our motorcycle broke down halfway and now it's raining, so we were hoping to take shelter here," Yuan Yun said succinctly and politely as she pushed me aside to address the speaker.
There was a moment of silence before a voice replied after several seconds: "Alright, please come in." With that, the door opened with a creak.
As Yuan Yun and I walked through the entrance, we found ourselves in a courtyard paved with blue stones, and there was no one beside the door. "Please continue walking..." came a voice from a speaker behind us, and with a loud bang, the door closed, evidently controlled electronically.
Following the voice's guidance, we approached a large door directly facing the courtyard. A gentle push opened it, and we stepped inside. At that moment, an elderly man emerged from the depths of the house, signaling for us to remove our shoes and outerwear and to change into the slippers provided at the entrance. He then led us deeper into the house.
Before us lay a bright corridor, in stark contrast to the overcast sky outside. Along the way, the old man introduced himself as Uncle Fu, the house's steward. It struck me as odd that such a profession still existed in this day and age; I thought perhaps we had somehow traveled back in time or that this family's wealth was extraordinarily vast. Yuan Yun briefly introduced our situation as well, referring to me simply as a "friend," which left me feeling somewhat displeased.
When we reached our destination—a spacious hall—I was nearly taken aback. I turned to glance at Yuan Yun, who wore an expression mirroring my own astonishment. The decor of the hall was beyond description; it was more magnificent than any high-ranking official's parlor depicted in television dramas. Just moments before, I had assumed that given the classical design of the exterior and the rustic decorations of the courtyard, the interior would reflect a similar antiquity. To my surprise, it was strikingly modern, reminiscent of photos of Bill Gates' living room that had circulated online not long ago.
Uncle Fu gestured for us to take a seat on the sofa before turning to leave through one of several doors in the living room. I looked at Yuan Yun; she stuck out her tongue at me, clearly as astonished by the opulence around us as I was.
Just as I was about to whisper my thoughts to her, Uncle Fu returned to the living room with two other individuals following behind him.
Leading the way was an elderly man who appeared to be around Uncle Fu's age but seemed frail and weak, leaning heavily on a cane as he walked unsteadily, each step seemingly precarious.
Trailing behind him was a young man with dyed blonde hair, roughly my age. His clothing was extravagant; even someone like me, who knew little about fashion brands, could tell they were quite expensive. His expression was indifferent as he coldly regarded the elderly man in front of him.
The two took their seats on the sofa opposite us, and Uncle Fu began introducing them. It was then that I learned they were the owners of this mansion—according to Uncle Fu's words, they were the young master and elder master of the household.
After Uncle Fu finished his introduction, Yuan Yun reiterated our identities and how we came to be there while apologizing for any disturbance we might have caused.
"It's no problem; everyone needs help sometimes," said the frail old man in a voice that matched his weak appearance. "You can stay here to avoid the rain. If it continues into the night, you are welcome to stay overnight; after all, there are plenty of guest rooms."
"Thank you very much," Yuan Yun and I said as we stood up to express our gratitude.
"Alright, Uncle Fu, please take them for a bath later and dry their clothes. I'm not feeling well, so I'll take my leave now." With that, the elderly man stood up and wobbled out of the living room. The young man followed him, remaining silent the entire time, his face etched with a cold and disdainful expression.
"Uncle Fu, can I ask you something? Is there a strained relationship between your young master and the old master?" I inquired as we made our way to the bathroom.
"You noticed that too?" Uncle Fu leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "The current master is the original husband of Old Madam, who came into this family after his death, so he has no blood relation to the young master."
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