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墨書 Inktalez
As I wandered along, lost in thought and admiring the scenery by the roadside, a familiar flying eave suddenly caught my eye—it was the Zhao Residence. Nestled deep along a small road off the national highway between S City and Y Town, I probably would have never noticed this grand mansion if it weren't for the events of last time.
“Driver, please stop the car.” I wasn’t sure why I wanted to get out until I watched the car speed away, leaving me behind without a clear answer. Perhaps it was simply a desire to see this place again, which had left such a profound impression on me, or maybe it was the lingering unease about the identity of the culprit that haunted my mind.
I slowly approached the Zhao Residence; everything appeared as it had before, except that Yuan Yun and that stormy night were absent. I raised my hand and pressed the doorbell. Just like last time, there was no sound, but soon a voice came from inside: “Who is it?” I recognized it as Uncle Fu's voice.
“Hello, Uncle Fu. Do you remember me? I’m Xin Yu—the one who came to take shelter from the rain a few days ago.”
“Oh, it's you! Come in.” With Uncle Fu's warm invitation, the door opened.
As I stepped into the courtyard, Uncle Fu was already waiting at the entrance of the main house: “You’ve been discharged from the hospital? Are you feeling better?” He immediately asked with concern upon seeing me.
“I’m all better now. Thank you for your care.” I nodded in acknowledgment.
“Not at all. We were planning to visit you in the hospital, but we couldn’t get away. After all, something like this happened at home.” At this point, Uncle Fu’s voice trembled slightly as he paused.
“I’ve already heard about what happened from Yuan Yun. You shouldn’t be too sad,” I said, trying to comfort him as I followed him into the house.
Inside was much like it had been a few days ago—nothing had changed.
“Who’s at home now?” To avoid an awkward silence, I made an effort to find a topic to discuss.
“Since this incident occurred, the master found this place inauspicious and moved to the city a few days ago. Now it’s just us old folks left.” Uncle Fu spoke with a hint of sadness before suddenly remembering something: “Since you’re here, why don’t you light some incense for our young master?”
Hearing the term "young master," I frowned slightly. To be honest, I had no fondness for this sinister-looking young scion. However, since Uncle Fu mentioned it, I reluctantly agreed to light some incense.
Uncle Fu led me to a small room behind the living room, which was draped in black veils, resembling a mourning hall or a place for rituals.
"Young master, Mr. Xin Yu has come to pay his respects," Uncle Fu said as he handed me three lit incense sticks.
I took the incense, holding it with both hands in front of my chest. I then focused on the framed portrait adorned with a black border, preparing to bow. But the moment my gaze met the portrait, I was stunned.
Before me was an elderly face, kind and gentle.
"Who... who is he?!" I stammered, pointing at the portrait.
"What’s wrong? He is our young master! Haven't you met him before?" Uncle Fu was equally shocked by my reaction.
"Young master?" I repeated Uncle Fu's words while staring at the portrait. A flash of realization struck me like lightning, reminiscent of a flashback in a drama, as scenes began to unfold in my mind.
Eight years ago, Old Lady Zhao's first husband passed away. She then brought in her current husband, who was referred to by Uncle Fu as the master. The young master was the child of Madam Zhao and her former husband. He had initially thought he would inherit his mother's estate alone, but now outsiders were coming to share in it, which naturally left him feeling resentful. Thus, he had always maintained a lukewarm attitude towards his stepfather. The stepfather sensed this hostility but refrained from confronting him out of respect for Old Lady Zhao's feelings. Consequently, they had spent seven years in a cold war atmosphere.
Just as I was about to whisper to Yuan Yun about this revelation, Uncle Fu returned to the living room with two other individuals following him.
Leading the way was an elderly man, roughly the same age as Uncle Fu but appearing frail and weak. He leaned on a cane and walked unsteadily, swaying with every step as if he might fall at any moment.
Behind me sat a young man with dyed yellow hair, about the same age as I was. His clothes were extravagant, and even someone like me, who knew nothing 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 of them settled onto the sofa opposite us, and Uncle Fu began to introduce them. It was then that I learned they were the owners of this mansion; in Uncle Fu's words, they were the young master and the old master.
"It's alright; everyone needs help sometimes," the frail old man said in a voice that matched his weak appearance. "You can stay here to avoid the rain. If it continues into the night, you can spend the night here; after all, there are plenty of guest rooms."
Behind us, Yuan Yun was helping Aunt Fu clean up the dishes. Upon hearing my words, Aunt Fu chimed in:
"It's fine; there are plenty of guest rooms here anyway. The young master has agreed that you can stay overnight. To be honest, we haven't had guests in a long time, and I'm about to go crazy just talking to this old man all day. I'd be happy to have more people to chat with."
As past scenes replayed in my mind, I finally understood the truth of the situation. It was quite simple; I had initially been too subjective and overlooked another possibility. With this revelation, the identity of the culprit became clear.
"So he is the young master; I always thought he was the old master," I said, revealing my newfound understanding.
"Oh, now I see why you were so shocked when you saw the portrait of the young master. It's my fault for not explaining clearly," Uncle Fu finally grasped the reason behind my earlier odd behavior. "When Old Lady Zhao brought in the current old master as her husband, it indeed surprised us all. At that time, Old Madam was already 71 years old, while the old master was only 23. Later, when Old Madam passed away at 78, our young master was already 60, while our old master was just 30. With such an age difference, it's normal for someone without special introduction to confuse their identities."
After hearing Uncle Fu's explanation, I fell into deep thought once more. Here I was, a writer specializing in detective novels, yet I had just attended a practical lesson on "narrative deception" in real life. Throughout this entire incident, no one had deliberately deceived me; it was entirely my own "subjective assumptions" and "rigid adherence to common perceptions" that led me astray. Without confirming their identities or seeing the deceased, I mistakenly assumed the older man was the old master and the younger one was the young master. Just as I was berating myself for this error, I recalled the identity of the culprit again.
"By the way, Uncle Fu, has the culprit been caught?"
"I heard not yet; there are no leads from the police. They only say it might have been an outsider or a robber."
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