Since all these rules and superstitions are outdated, what's wrong with me indulging in some me

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Shen Ye withdrew his gaze and remained silent for a long time.

Then he moved.

His hand reached into the inside pocket of his coat, the sound of the fabric rubbing together was particularly clear in the quiet room.

When he pulled his hand out of the inner pocket, Lu Changsheng saw something.

It was a booklet.

It wasn't large, about the size of a palm, and about two fingers thick. The cover was made of dark brown leather, the edges worn white, with some places even revealing the cardboard inside. There was no title, no decoration, only the natural grain of the leather, which gleamed with a dull sheen in the moonlight.

Shen Ye placed the booklet on the table.

But his finger lingered on the booklet cover for a long time, as if he were making a difficult decision.

"This is her diary," Shen Ye said.

"I found this notebook while I was searching for her after she disappeared. It was found in her dressing table. I searched everywhere to find out where this dressing table came from, and finally I found out it was in this castle."

His fingers moved off the cover and landed on the table, tapping twice unconsciously with his fingertips.

"I've turned the pages countless times. I've read every single one, every single word. I can even recite some of the pages by heart."

He raised his head and looked at Lu Changsheng.

The moonlight shone on his face, illuminating the very faint, almost invisible smile at the corner of his mouth.

"But I don't understand it."

His voice suddenly became somewhat confused, like a student who had been trying to solve a puzzle for a long time but still couldn't find the answer.

He pushed the notebook towards Lu Changsheng.

A soft sound came from the tabletop, the sound of the leather cover rubbing against the wooden tabletop, very short and light, like a sigh.

"Mr. Lu, you are a diviner. You can see things that I cannot."

He paused for a moment.

"Perhaps you can understand it."

Lu Changsheng looked down at the notes on the table.

The moonlight shone on the dark brown leather cover, illuminating the marks worn by time. He reached out and opened the cover.

The first page.

The paper was yellowed, the edges were a bit brittle, and it made a slight rustling sound when turned. The handwriting was very neat, with slender and orderly strokes, as if it had been written by someone who had practiced calligraphy.

"When my younger brother sent someone to pick me up, I was pruning the osmanthus tree in the yard. This year, the flowers bloomed earlier than usual. It was only September and the tree was already full of golden yellow flowers. The fragrance was so strong that it felt like you could wring water out of it."

"The person who came was his personal attendant, surnamed Qi. I remember him; five years ago, he was just a boy helping out in the kitchen, but now he's someone who can handle things on his own. He spoke very politely, saying that his younger brother missed him and invited him to come back and stay for a few days."

"I thought about it, and it really has been a long time since I've been back. The last time I saw my brother was last winter. We had a quick meal, and then the housekeeper called him away, saying there was something urgent to take care of. He didn't even have time to put on his coat when he left."

"Since Ah Shen is going to the main planet, I'll be bored staying here, so I agreed."

"The seventh year, September. The second day."

"I have arrived."

"The castle is still the same. The gray stone walls and towering spires look like they were cut out of a fairy tale and pasted there. When I was a child, I thought it was very big, big enough to hold the whole world. Later, I grew up and felt that it had become smaller. Then I left and came back, and found that it hadn't become smaller; it was I who had become smaller."

"My younger brother is waiting for me at the door."

"He's lost weight. His chin is sharper, and his cheekbones are more prominent, but he's in great spirits. No, not 'in great spirits'—he's too good for his liking. It's almost unnatural."

"The way he looked at me was strange."

"I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong. He still calls me 'sister,' and he still holds my hand and asks if I'm tired or hungry from the journey, and if I want to eat something first. His voice is still the same, gentle and soft, just like when he was a child and used to whine to me."

Lu Changsheng continued scrolling down.

The handwriting is still neat, but the pressure of the strokes has changed. Before, it was light and smooth, like water flowing naturally in a stream. Now it has become heavy, and each stroke seems to be written with force, with some strokes even showing a slight bulge on the back of the paper.

"The seventh year, September. The third day."

"I live on the third floor. I used to live on the fifth floor, but my brother said the fifth floor was being renovated and asked me to stay on the third floor for a few days. I didn't think much of it."

"The room was very clean, and the blankets were freshly aired and smelled of sunshine. The view from the window was also great, with a view of the garden and the distant wall."

"But I don't like this room."

"It's not that the room is bad, it's that the window is in the wrong place. It faces the lake."

"I don't know when I started to be afraid of that lake. When I was a child, I wasn't afraid at all, and I often went to play in the lake in the summer. But later—probably after I left the castle—I started having a dream. I dreamed of the lake, I dreamed of the water, I dreamed that there was something watching me from below the water."

"Every time I have this dream, when I wake up I feel like someone is calling my name. The voice is very soft and gentle, as if it's coming from a very, very far place."

"Including Ah Shen."

Lu Changsheng looked up and glanced at Shen Ye.

Shen Ye remained in the same posture—hands on his knees, head bowed, staring at the table. Moonlight shone on the back of his head, illuminating the white hair at the crown of his head.

Lu Changsheng withdrew his gaze and continued reading.

"The seventh year, September. The fourth day."

"I met a maid in the corridor today. She was a young woman, probably seventeen or eighteen years old, with big eyes, and she blushed when she spoke."

"Her hands were shaking when she brought me breakfast. I thought she was nervous, so I said a few words to her to try and help her relax."

"I asked her how long she had been at the castle. She said three months."

I asked her if she was used to it. She hesitated for a moment and said, "It's okay."

"I asked her if someone was bullying her. She shook her head vigorously and said no, then put the tray on the table, bowed, and ran away."

"During dinner, I asked my younger brother if anything had happened at the castle recently. He paused for a moment, then laughed and said no, everything is normal."

"Everything is correct."

"But it's just not right."

Lu Changsheng turned to the next page.

The paper was a bit darker than before, not in a yellowish way, but in a grayish way. It looked like it had been smoked by something, or like it had changed color after being exposed to humid air for a long time.

The handwriting was still neat, but the spacing between the strokes had increased. It wasn't intentional; rather, my hand was trembling while writing, and I had to stop and start again after writing a few characters. As a result, the distance between the characters fluctuated, like a string of uneven beads.

"The seventh year, September. The seventh day."

Someone has gone missing.

"It's the girl who brought me breakfast."

"I waited for her for a long time this morning, but she didn't come. A male servant came instead; he looked unfamiliar, I'd never seen him before. I asked him where the previous girl was. He said he didn't know, maybe she'd been transferred."

"I spoke with the housekeeper. He said the girl had some family matters to attend to and had taken leave to go home. (There's a surprise in Chapter 170 of this chapter's notes; click to unlock now.) I asked when she left. He said last night."

I don't believe it.

Lu Changsheng turned to the next page.

The paper was a darker color, a grayish-black, as if it had been smoked. The edges were slightly curled, not from dampness, but from repeated handling, where sweat and oil from fingers had seeped into the paper fibers, causing deformation.

The handwriting started to become messy. Some characters were only half-written, some strokes were connected and indistinguishable, and in some places the whole line of text was crooked to one side, as if something had pulled my hand halfway through writing.

"The seventh year, September. The tenth day."

I went to the lake.

"I went during the day. The sun was high, the water was very bright, and it looked no different from an ordinary lake."

"But I saw it."

"There's something deep, deep below the surface."

"It's not a fish, not water plants, not a stone."

"It's a person."

"A lot of people."

"They were submerged at the bottom of the water, face up, eyes open, mouths opening and closing. They were talking, but I couldn't hear a sound. I could only see their mouths moving, like fish being pulled ashore."

"I counted. I couldn't count any further when I got to thirty-seven."

"It's not that we can't count them, it's that we're afraid to count them."

"Because I saw a familiar face among those people."

"The girl who brought me breakfast."

"She was submerged at the bottom of the water, her eyes open, her mouth opening and closing. She was calling me."

"I understood her lip movements."

"Run!"

Lu Changsheng felt his fingers tighten slightly.

The paper made a soft rustling sound between his fingers.

He relaxed his grip and continued reading.

"I don't know how I got back to my room. When I came to my senses, I was already sitting at the dressing table, my hands trembling, a pen in my hand, and the same sentence written all over the paper—"

"That was made by my younger brother."

"I don't know if he did it. I have no proof. I don't want to know."

"But I know one thing."

"Those people in the lake didn't fall in on their own."

Lu Changsheng turned to the next page.

The paper on this page is different from the others. It's thinner and more brittle, as if it's been soaked in something and then dried. There are some dark brown spots on the edges; they're not mold, but blood.

Lu Changsheng recognized the color.

Just like the bloodstained page in the journal before.

After drying, the blood turns into a dark brown color, blending into the paper fibers and becoming impossible to wash or wipe clean.

The handwriting on this page is almost illegible. The strokes are crooked and uneven, and in some places they are not even in a straight line, as if the writer was constantly trembling or being disturbed by something.

Some characters were only written halfway before the pen tip left a long, fading mark on the paper, before the pen was started again to rewrite the same character.

"The seventh year, September. The eleventh day."

"My body is changing."

"When I woke up this morning, I found that I couldn't bend my fingers."

"It's not pain, it's not numbness, it's... I can't bend over. It's like something's been poured into my joints, filling the gaps between the bones and making them immobile."

"It doesn't hurt."

"It really doesn't hurt."

"But it's more terrifying than pain."

"Because that means those joints are no longer alive."

"I looked in the mirror. The face in the mirror was still my face; my features hadn't changed, my skin hadn't changed, my hair hadn't changed. But I knew that something was changing me from the inside out."

"It's not getting older, it's not getting uglier, it's changing—"

"I don't know what word to use."

"Hardened".

"Yes, it gets hard."

"It starts from the bones and spreads outwards. First the joints, then the muscles, then the skin. I'm becoming a—"

"I can't write anymore."

"But I must keep writing."

"Because if I don't write it down, no one will ever know."

"My younger brother comes to see me every day. Every time he comes, he brings food, drinks, and other necessities, and asks me if I need anything. He's very good to me."

Lu Changsheng turned to the next page.

Only half a page.

The other half of the page was torn off, leaving only the part near the spine. The tear was very uneven, with some areas still bearing the fuzz of paper fibers, as if it had been forcefully ripped off.

The remaining half-page contained only a few lines of text.

The writing was so small that you almost had to stick it on to see it.

"My body doesn't need food anymore, I'm almost not human anymore."

"wave."

"wave."

"wave."

"It's calling me."

"It didn't come from the bottom of the lake, it came from inside my body."

Lu Changsheng closed his notebook.

The sound of the leather cover rubbing against the paper was particularly clear in the quiet room, like a sigh, or an unfinished sentence.

He looked up at Shen Ye.

Shen Ye did not move.

He remained in the same position, and Lu Changsheng could see that his shoulders were trembling.

"Mr. Lu."

Shen Ye's voice was squeezed out of his throat, hoarse and indistinct, as if it had been soaking in water for a long time before being pulled out.

"She was alone when she wrote these."

Lu Changsheng remained silent.

"She was in that room, all alone. There was no one to talk to, no one to ask questions, no one to lean on. When she was scared, she could only hug herself. When she cried, she could only wipe her own tears."

His voice finally cracked slightly.

Who was beside her when she wrote "It's calling me"?

Lu Changsheng sighed.

"I will do everything I can to help you."

Shen Ye nodded. Seeing that it was late at night and he couldn't get any useful information from Lu Changsheng, Shen Ye got up and prepared to leave.

"thank you."

He walked out, and the door closed softly behind him.

The next day, Lu Changsheng was awakened by a knock on the door.

He sat up, put on his coat, walked to the door, and unlatched it.

The butler stood outside the door.

Black robe, gold-rimmed monocle, expressionless. Exactly the same as the first day, exactly the same as the banquet on the second day, like a piece of paper that has been copied too many times and is no longer recognizable.

"Mr. Lu," the butler's voice was unhurried, like a stagnant pool, "the master asked me to remind you that today is the third day."