Passerby: Secret Image of Ancient Scrolls

The spirit of the dead hung in mid-air, like a clump of ink being clenched, shrinking, expanding, and restraining itself.

It circled the house once, and then circled it again.

It crashed into the wall, and the wall shook; it crashed into the window, and the window rattled; it crashed into the ceiling, and dust fell down in a flurry.

The flash of light brought it back to the bus, back to the scene of people pointing and whispering about it, and back to the online abuse it received.

It no longer wanted to endure it.

Shen Xun tightened his grip again, pinning the lines that were about to be washed away back in place.

He didn't make a move; he was waiting, waiting for the soul to choose for itself.

If it makes the wrong choice, then all that awaits it is to be scattered by the golden light.

The figure huddled within the barrier began to change. The black mist that had enveloped him for half a year peeled away from his body, piece by piece, like a snake shedding its skin.

His face was still the same face, but it was different. There was no more hostility, no more resentment, no more of that shattered despair.

He just stood there. He spoke. His voice was soft, as soft as snow falling on snow. "Never mind," he said. The black mist stopped. It hung motionless in mid-air. "Never mind," he said again.

The black mist began to recede. It surged back into the camera, back into the lens, back into the photographic paper that hadn't yet been ejected.

The room temperature slowly rose again. The lamp stopped flickering.

The huddled figure crouched down again, shrinking back into the black mist, just like before.

He almost blew that building up, but he didn't. He just said, "Never mind."

Shen Xun loosened his grip, golden blood still flowing. He stared at the curled-up figure for a long time.

"You didn't disappoint me," Shen Xun said.

The soft click of the shutter was particularly clear in the enclosed darkness, accompanied by the subtle friction of the photographic paper against the roller, as a blank sheet of photographic paper slowly emerged from the bottom of the instant camera.

Lin Jian held the edge of the photographic paper, his fingertips trembling slightly. The photographic paper was still slightly warm from the camera body when it was first ejected, but it felt a bit chilly the moment it came into contact with the air.

She held her breath, watching the photographic paper in her hand, watching it gradually fade from pure white under the dim light, revealing a faint gray shadow.

The first thing to appear was the fiery red sunset, with patches of orange-red and crimson spreading along the edges of the photographic paper like spilled paint, so gentle it was almost unbelievable, yet it was shrouded in an inescapable melancholy.

Immediately afterwards, a blurry downward arc ripped through the sunset, like an irreversible ink mark, deeply imprinted on the center of the photographic paper.

Then, countless fragmented images seeped out from the texture of the photographic paper like a tide. The images were covered with a thick layer of mist, like looking out through glass on a rainy day, only a few scattered outlines could be seen: a crowded commuter car, him clutching an ordinary personal item in his hand, a woman next to him raising her hand to accuse him agitatedly, people around him pointing their phones at him, and a pair of shoes lying alone on the edge of the rooftop, the edges of the shoes stained with mud after the rain.

All the outlines were blurred by the mist, making it impossible to see a complete face or hear a complete sentence. Yet, the suffocating feeling of being unable to defend oneself and the sense of being surrounded by the whole world pierced through the thin photographic paper, weighing heavily on Lin Jian's heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

This was the first time in over half a year that she had touched upon the unspoken, fragmented past behind that shadow through this camera.

Lin Jian looked at the photograph in her hand, tears silently streaming down her face, splashing onto the edge of the paper and creating a small, blurry water stain.

She finally understood. All this time, what she had felt was not malice, but the despair of having nowhere to turn, and the desperate attempts to explain herself that no one would hear.

But she still couldn't see the whole story, nor could she reach the deepest source of this despair.

Just then, Shen Xun raised his hand and slowly took off his sunglasses.

A pair of eyes, gleaming with a faint golden light, were revealed.

Those eyes were calm, as if they held the light of a thousand years. When their gaze fell on that huddled figure, it instantly pierced through the thick black fog, through the barrier of time, and saw all the causes and consequences. It saw the rainy evening that had trapped this soul, and it saw the five years he had spent day and night in this city.

The warmth in his left chest followed his gaze, forming a closed loop with the image on the photograph and the golden light of the ebony box, and the chill in the room gradually dissipated.

Countless clear images flowed slowly through his eyes.

What first catches the eye are countless repetitive mornings.

He always leaves home at the crack of dawn, squeezing onto the morning rush hour commute. Whenever he sees someone in need, he always lends a helping hand quietly. In his rented room, there are several potted plants that he takes good care of, and the refrigerator is covered with sticky notes reminding him to call his family on time. He is hardworking and conscientious at work, and even if he suffers grievances, he just silently bears them and never wants to argue with anyone. His only wish is to save enough money to bring his parents from afar to live with him and settle down.

He was gentle by nature, unable to bear even stepping on an ant, but he never expected that a sudden misunderstanding would plunge his life into the abyss.

It was a gloomy, rainy evening. In the crowded commuter car, a sudden scream broke the noise. A woman mistook the items he was carrying for hidden cameras and immediately began to accuse him in a fit of rage.

He panicked and tried to explain again and again, but the gazes of those around him had already changed. Curiosity, disdain, and morbid curiosity were all directed at him by the cameras of their phones. No one was willing to listen to him say another word, and no one was willing to look down and see that it was just an ordinary personal item.

What made him even more desperate was that this clip, taken out of context, was quickly uploaded to the internet.

There was no background, no consequences, only inflammatory words and his flustered and helpless appearance.

Overnight, a torrent of insults poured in. His personal information was dug up by uninformed people, including his phone number, address, and workplace. Even his parents, who lived far away in his hometown, received abusive phone calls, and his mother collapsed from anxiety and illness.

He tried to clarify and produce evidence, but the malice on the internet grew like a snowball. Speculations like "flies don't land on eggs without cracks" and "he doesn't look like a good person" were like dull knives, repeatedly cutting into his nerves.

The company pressured him to resign, his girlfriend of many years broke up with him after being persuaded by her family, his former friends gradually drifted away, and he went from a gentle and cheerful person to a taciturn one, feeling like he was being pointed at and whispered about wherever he went.

The police investigation ultimately proved his innocence, but this belated truth had long been drowned out by the even more turbulent online uproar.

No one cares whether he is innocent or not, no one cares about the harm he has suffered. Those who once vilified him have long since shifted their attention to chasing the next hot topic, leaving him alone, carrying the stigma and a broken life, struggling in the boundless darkness.

On that rainy evening, he walked alone to the rooftop, looking down at the bustling traffic below, clutching the clarification announcement that was already soaked by the rain in his hand.

New abusive messages kept popping up on his phone, and he could almost hear the harsh accusations. The grievances, resentment, and despair in his heart overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

He couldn't understand why he, who had never done anything wrong in his life, would suffer such an undeserved disaster; he couldn't understand why those complete strangers could so easily unleash their malice.

Finally, he took a leap and plunged into the twilight shrouded in rain.

A faint, almost imperceptible sigh finally appeared in Shen Xun's eyes.

He also saw clearly all the scenes of this spirit following Lin Jian over the past six months: his spirit was anchored by the photographic paper, unable to leave the camera for even a moment, yet he never had the thought of harming this innocent girl; at night, he huddled in a corner, afraid that his chill would freeze her, and only dared to release a trace of cold aura to scare away those with ill intentions when she was in danger; he wanted to touch the photographic paper countless times, to see the moment he was frozen in time, to see if anyone could understand his grievances, but he was afraid of frightening her, so he could only withdraw his hand time and time again.

He died unjustly, filled with resentment, yet he never showed the slightest malice towards the girl who had unexpectedly trapped him.

Behind the mist on the photographic paper lies his lingering resentment until his death, and what truly liberated him was never just a belated truth.

Shen Xun's gaze shifted from the figure to the photo paper covered in water vapor in Lin Jian's hand.

He gently lifted his fingertip, and a wisp of pale golden reincarnation power overflowed from it, brushing across the photograph.

The mist dissipated instantly.

The images on the photographic paper became incredibly clear, the complete cause and effect displayed perfectly before Lin Jian's eyes, and also before that spirit's eyes.

The figure that had been charging wildly froze instantly.

He looked at the clear image on the photograph, at the fragmented daily life of the past five years, at the undeserved disaster, at the overwhelming malice, and the swirling black mist around him gradually dissipated.

He slowly squatted down, hugged his head, and let out suppressed, choked sobs, like a child abandoned by the whole world, not daring to cry too loudly.

The resentment that had been building up for so long, the unwillingness that lingered until death, all turned into endless grievances in the face of the clear truth.

"We'll help you regain the innocence that the world owes you."

Shen Xun's voice rang out in the quiet room, gentle yet carrying an undeniable certainty.

He put his sunglasses back on, the golden light in his eyes fading away, leaving only a calm gaze fixed on the huddled figure. "What's trapping you has never been this camera, this room, or even her; it's your stubbornness that you refuse to let go of. Only when your innocence is restored can you truly walk out."

Lin Jian also realized what had happened. Clutching the photograph in her hand, she looked at the figure squatting on the ground, her voice trembling with tears, yet incredibly firm: "I'm sorry, it was my camera that trapped you here. Don't worry, I will organize these images and hand them over to the police, to every place where a voice can be heard. I will let everyone know that you did nothing wrong, that you were framed. I will help you clear your name."

The figure slowly raised its head, looked at them, and all the hostility in its eyes dissipated, leaving only endless weariness and relief.

He bowed slightly to the two of them, as if apologizing for the long disturbance, or as if saying a belated thank you.

The last bit of black mist around him dissipated into the air.

As if sensing the soul's relief, the snake head at the top of the staff trembled slightly. The previously concealed dark patterns suddenly shone with a cold light, and the lifelike snake's snout opened slightly, revealing two thin and sharp fangs, gleaming with the warm yet awe-inspiring luster of the peach wood itself.

Shen Xun lowered his eyes, his fingertips slowly moving upwards along the cool shaft of the staff, his fingertips lightly brushing against the cool wood grain of the snake's head, and finally gently rubbing against the two sharp fangs, the movement as light as brushing against a fallen leaf.

A barely perceptible spiritual mark was instantly left on the fingertip, from which a drop of gilded spiritual blood seeped out, slowly sliding down the fang and finally dripping onto the golden barrier on the ground.

A warm white light instantly illuminated the room, and a figure emerged from Shen Xun's pocket, hovering half a foot above the ground. His twin ponytails swayed gently, the strands shimmering with fine white light; his plain white robe fluttered slightly with the air currents, clean and light, the light around him softer than the barrier, yet steadily suppressing the remaining chill in the room.

Lin Jian's breath hitched, and his fingertips gripped the Polaroid camera tightly, his knuckles turning white instantly.

She could see clearly that it was a girl who looked no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, with a round, doll-like face, almond-shaped eyes that shone like stars on a summer night, a small nose, and pale pink lips. Just looking at her face, she was no different from any other ordinary girl next door in the alley, clean and with a touch of innocent charm.

But she was suspended there helplessly, her shoes always half a foot off the ground, showing no sign of falling.

Her twin ponytails swayed gently with her movements, and her plain white wide sleeves fell naturally, giving her a sense of lightness.

A tall, plain white hat stood upright on his head, its surface spotless without a single word, ultimately missing the most crucial detail compared to the image circulating among the people.

The girl tilted her head, her twin ponytails swaying gently. Her gaze swept over the relieved soul, and she spoke softly. As she finished speaking, she unconsciously stuck out her pink tongue, displaying a childlike liveliness, without a trace of the chilling coldness of the underworld messengers in the story: "Your obsession has not been extinguished, your karmic ties are not yet severed. I will take you to where you are meant to be first, and once your innocence is cleared, you will enter the cycle of reincarnation."

A fine layer of cold sweat broke out on Lin Jian's back. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to shatter his ribs. His hands and feet went numb uncontrollably, his throat tightened, and he even unconsciously slowed his breathing.

Over the past six months, she had seen countless blurry ghostly silhouettes, but never before had she seen a "non-human" being so clearly.

She should have been afraid; the stories she'd heard since childhood were churning in her mind. But her eyes were glued to the girl's floating figure, to the shallow dimples at the corners of her mouth when she stuck out her tongue, to the clean, gentle white light surrounding her. Amidst the piercing fear, an irrepressible curiosity and excitement surged within her. Her fingertips even twitched involuntarily, wanting to raise her Polaroid camera and press the shutter, but fearing to disturb the other person, she could only grip the camera tightly. Cold sweat was still pouring down her back, and her lips trembled slightly.

The figure of Bai Wuchang had faded into obscurity. She glanced at Lin Jian one last time, stuck out her tongue, and vanished into Shen Xun's pocket in a flash of white light. The room fell silent. Lin Jian held the camera, staring at the now blank photograph, his fingers still trembling.

A sharp sound rang out outside the window. Shen Xun's peachwood staff had already moved. The staff deflected the first arrow, the second grazed his shoulder and embedded itself in the wall. The third headed straight for Lin Jian. Shen Xun sidestepped and pushed her aside, the arrow grazing her hair and embedding itself in the wardrobe door. The peachwood box slipped from Lin Jian's hands, crashing to the ground, the lid popping open. A photograph floated out and landed on the floor. The photograph was face down. It was bright white, but completely blank.

Two muffled thuds came from outside the window. The person jumped onto the air conditioner unit downstairs and disappeared into the darkness. Shen Xun stood in front of Lin Jian, his peach wood staff held horizontally in front of his chest, staring out the window.

Shen Xun didn't speak. He glanced down at the photo on the ground, then at the darkness outside the window. Lin Jian knelt down and picked up the photo. She turned it over. It was her grandfather. Her grandfather in his youth, with a woman in shamanistic attire standing beside him, and a stone tablet covered in strange symbols beside them.

"This stone tablet is a yin-yang node, and your grandfather must be related to the Greater Khingan Mountains." Shen Xun's voice remained unchanged.

Lin Jian's fingers gripped the photograph tightly, her knuckles turning white. Her voice was very soft, so soft it was as if she were asking herself, "Grandpa..."

The chilly atmosphere in the room completely dissipated.

Shen Xun raised his hand and pulled open the heavy blackout curtains.

The morning light rushed in instantly, streaming through the French windows and filling the entire room.

The sky outside the window was already bright, the rain had stopped, and a faint, fish-belly white was appearing on the horizon. The sounds of breakfast vendors calling out their wares and bicycle bells ringing as they passed by drifted from the alley. The lively atmosphere of everyday life flowed into this room that had been closed for so long through the open window.

Lin Jian looked at the daylight outside the window, her empty fingertips curling slightly, and tears welled up again. This time, however, they weren't from fear, but from relief. She had finally escaped this nightmare, and finally found the true meaning of the camera that had been with her for so many years.

She turned around, looked at Shen Xun standing in the morning light, and bowed deeply: "Mr. Shen Xun, thank you."

"No need to thank me, you mustered up the courage yourself." Shen Xun's lips curled into a very faint smile as he looked at her gently. "Now, are you willing to come with me to help more souls trapped in their obsessions to regain their innocence and peace? We're going to the north next, where there might be clues about your grandfather."

Lin Jian raised his head almost without hesitation.

She looked at Shen Xun's calm and gentle eyes, at the peach wood staff in his hand that could dispel all the coldness, then glanced back at the cramped rented room, at the rental contract that was about to expire on the corner of the table, at the useless talismans scattered on the floor, and at the suitcase in the corner.

There was nothing left for her to cherish in this city. Her parents were thousands of miles away, she had lost her job, and her friends had gradually drifted away because of those strange and bizarre events. She had been on the run for more than half a year, spending all her savings, but she could never shake off the shadow behind her.

The person before her possessed the power to dispel all the chill and gloom, and also the gentle nature to comfort her fear and anxiety.

"I do." She nodded vigorously.

Shen Xun nodded slightly, and his phone in the dark cloth bag at his waist suddenly vibrated, making a faint sound as the fabric rubbed against each other.

"Shen Xun, I've arrived at the alleyway you indicated. Old Gu just contacted me, saying that the chill at the bottom of the river is getting worse, the situation is more severe than expected, and it has an indescribable eeriness. We need to set off as soon as possible."

"Okay." Shen Xun replied readily, a hint of unease flashing in his eyes.

After hanging up the phone, he turned to look at Lin Jian beside him, his tone gentle yet carrying an undeniable certainty: "Pack your things, we should leave. To the far north."

As Shen Xun took a step forward, his ear tips tightened slightly, and he realized that the few wisps of life in the fire escape on the first floor had disappeared.

The wind blew in from the alley entrance, carrying the chill of late autumn and the unknown dangers ahead.

But his steps did not falter in the slightest.

He has never backed down in his centuries of protection.

This time, it's the same.