Passerby: Secret Image of Ancient Scrolls

The wind in the early morning after the rain carried the chill of deep winter, like countless tiny ice blades scraping across the old alley, making the alley entrance even more silent.

The white steam from the breakfast stall, carrying the aroma of soy milk and shumai, drifted over the street corner. The warm fragrance, mixed with the warmth of everyday life, rolled around twice in the cold wind before dissipating.

Lin Jian followed behind Shen Xun, clutching the old, worn-out Polaroid camera. The scratches on the camera lens, like old scars faded by time, seemed to crawl from his fingertips into his heart.

In the open space at the alley entrance, the military green Iveco 2045 body gleamed with a matte finish. Ye Zhuo leaned against the car door, wearing a black baseball cap, his neat short hair tucked behind his ears, and a black work uniform that accentuated his sharp lines. His trousers were tucked into Martin boots. When he saw the two approaching, he raised his hand and opened the car door.

Shen Xun spoke softly, his tone calm: "Ye Zhuo, Lin Jian, you two get to know each other." Ye and Lin nodded to each other and said hello.

The carriage has plenty of storage space and looks clean and tidy. The composite bow and entrenching tool are hung behind the driver's seat. The most eye-catching items are four outdoor bags, which are neatly arranged on the bed at the rear of the carriage.

"A complete set of outdoor gear for -40℃, four sets, in all sizes." Ye Zhuo's voice was cold and steady.

She raised her chin and pointed to the curtain next to the bed in the back of the carriage, "You can change your clothes inside, change on the way, and get off directly when you arrive, without having to freeze."

Shen Xun unconsciously tapped the snake head of the peach wood staff on his knee with his fingertips. A faint golden light flashed across the dark patterns on the staff, then disappeared into the wood grain in an instant, so fast it was like an illusion.

This staff has been with him for so many years that it can always sense things before he does, touching the superficial things mixed in with the mundane aspects of life, those transgressions that shouldn't be anchored to this solid ground.

"Well thought out." His tone remained calm, without the slightest hint of emotion, except that the fingertips gripping the cane tightened slightly.

Ye Zhuo nodded slightly, pressed the clutch, shifted gears, and released the handbrake with crisp and clean movements, without the slightest hesitation. The tall SUV with a manual transmission was as stable in her hands as if she were driving a sedan.

The car slowly entered the main road and sped northward, the scenery on both sides of the road rushing past and blurring into a blurry image.

As the wheels rolled on, the daylight gradually faded, the wind grew stronger, and the scenery outside the window slowly transformed from withered farmland to barren, lifeless forests, with only a thin layer of frost covering the sides of the road. In the distance, the sky was already tinged with gray, and a fine chill lingered in the wind, as if snow was brewing.

Lin Jian pressed herself against the car window and looked out. The further north they went, the more the scenery outside seemed like paintings pasted onto glass, as if viewed through an invisible membrane. She instinctively hugged the camera in her arms tighter, the warm body of the camera seeming to echo her unease.

A soft rustling of fabric came from behind the curtain. When Lin Jian hurriedly changed his clothes and came out, the heater in the carriage was still blowing. Shen Xun had already changed into his gear. Underneath his clothes, a faint golden light occasionally flashed, as fast as a star that disappeared in the wind and snow.

Lin Jian sat down in the middle row and leaned out to look at Ye Zhuo. Ye Zhuo's baseball cap brim was pulled down slightly, covering most of his eyebrows and eyes, revealing a neat and smooth jawline. His short hair behind his ears swayed slightly in the car's heater. His fingers had distinct knuckles, a faint old scar on the back of his hand, and calluses from years of holding instruments on his fingertips.

She couldn't help but ask softly, "Sister Ye Zhuo, have you and Mr. Shen Xun known each other for a long time?"

Ye Zhuo's gaze fell on the road stretching ahead, and he did not answer immediately.

She remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking, her voice very soft, yet unfolding a story hidden for many years, following the sound of the wheels rolling.

Their acquaintance began in an old house in Hangzhou, with a gentle obsession that lingered even after the passing of an elderly man.

That year, Ye Zhuo was twenty-three years old. She had just taken off the camouflage uniform she had worn for five years, held her discharge certificate, and stepped onto her homeland. Her heart was full of expectations for the future, but she was unable to protect the person who had given her a lifetime of warmth.

Just an hour after leaving home for a job interview, the grandfather, who suffered from Alzheimer's disease, was surrounded and shoved by several teenagers at the end of the alley. His forehead hit the stone steps hard, and he ultimately did not survive that gloomy, rainy afternoon.

On the seventh night after Grandpa passed away, the light in the old house would inexplicably turn on in the middle of the night. It wasn't an illusion caused by the wind blowing through the window, nor was it a malfunction due to aging wiring. It was as if a very faint, warm light always shone on the desk, as if someone was quietly sitting in a wicker chair, repeatedly tracing her name stroke by stroke.

Ye Zhuo curled up by the bed, initially thinking it was just a hallucination born from deep sorrow, until a very light and steady sound of a peach wood cane tapping the ground came from outside the door, breaking the silence of the deep night.

thump.

A soft sound, not loud, yet it felt like striking the softest spot in people's hearts, instantly dispelling some of the chill of the late night.

She looked up and saw a man dressed in gray, with black glasses covering his eyes. His aura was so calm that he seemed to blend into the night. His hands, holding a cane, were clean and steady, giving off a sense of inexplicable peace of mind.

That was the first time she met Shen Xun.

The man didn't rush in; he stood quietly outside the threshold, his gaze fixed on the persistent warm light emanating from the desk. His voice was so soft it blended into the night, yet it reached her ears clearly: "He can't bear to leave. No hatred, no resentment, he just stays here, guarding this room, guarding you."

Ye Zhuo froze, and a lump formed in her throat.

The kettle that inexplicably warmed up at night, the softcover notebook that was quietly straightened, the flowerpots on the windowsill that were always damp, and even the faint smell of Grandpa's usual tobacco in the air—in an instant, all my doubts were resolved.

It's Grandpa; he hasn't left yet.

That softcover notebook was ordered for her by her grandfather. When she was in school, she always used this notebook to do her homework. Her grandfather would sit next to her, wearing his reading glasses, and write her name on the paper stroke by stroke.

Shen Xun lightly tapped the ground with his peachwood staff, his fingertips leaving a faint, almost invisible mark. A thin mist suddenly rose before the window, cold but not chilly, still but not menacing, without a trace of violence.

Ye Zhuo couldn't see anything, but he felt the air suddenly freeze, and even his breathing became lighter involuntarily, as if some ancient and solemn existence had silently passed through the world and quietly stopped in this small old house.

"He devoted his life to doing good deeds, taking in orphans and caring for the weak. His soul was free of evil, filled only with warmth." Shen Xun's voice remained calm, as if he were bowing to the invisible figure in the mist, or as if he were telling her about a predetermined ending. "No need to restrain him, no need to lead him away. Let him rest in peace, that is the best way to fulfill his wish."

A faint breath seemed to stir in the mist, and a wisp of light gently fell on the open softcover notebook. The two characters "Ye Zhuo," which Grandpa had written repeatedly, suddenly lit up for a moment with the fire radical, weak and warm, yet carrying an unwavering strength, like a final farewell.

The warm light on the desk flickered gently, like a soft sigh. Ye Zhuo suddenly closed her eyes, and hot tears finally streamed down her face. There was no sound, no touch, but she clearly and truly felt an old and gentle hand descending upon her head, gently stroking it, just like countless times in her childhood, filled with doting affection and concern.

"Zhuozhuo, stay warm." Those were the words her grandfather said to her most often throughout his life. It was a tenderness etched into her bones, and it was the most precious thought she would cherish for the rest of her life.

The warm light slowly spread, like snowflakes melting into the night, leaving no trace. The thin mist in front of the window also dissipated, and the old house fell back into the silence of the night, leaving only her and this unfamiliar man in gray inside.

"My name is Shen Xun." He spoke first, his tone calm and unwavering, revealing no emotion whatsoever. "I walk among men to redeem those lingering obsessions."

Ye Zhuo looked at him without fear or wariness, only a sense of security that her thoughts had been completely seen through.

At that time, she had just taken off her military uniform, still carrying the righteous spirit of her past. Her heart was filled with the pain of losing her grandfather, the regret of not being able to protect him, and an overwhelming, unquenchable hatred.

Shen Xun slightly raised his eyes, his gaze behind the black mirror seemingly able to penetrate everything and see through all the emotions in her heart.

"You possess righteousness, which can stabilize people's hearts and quell chaos." He paused, his voice soft yet firm, "I will guide the Yin, you will guard the Yang. From now on, we will walk the same path together and become partners."

There were no grand vows, no solemn entrustments, no superfluous explanations, yet it was as if a preordained destiny had officially begun the moment the warm light went out.

She guards the warmth of human life and protects the peace of the world; he guides the obsessions of the underworld and resolves the regrets of the mortal realm. One in light, one in darkness; one kind, one destined; they tacitly accompany each other through the years.

Lin Jian was so engrossed in listening that he subconsciously looked down at the Polaroid camera in his arms.

Just then, a faint, almost transparent white-clad figure floated out from beside the passenger seat. Bai Wuchang tilted her head, drifted to Lin Jian's side, and stared at the camera for a long time. Her voice was very soft, almost as if she were talking to herself: "This thing... is very strange. I can't see through it at all."

Lin Jian was taken aback: "This was left to me by my grandfather."

Ye Zhuo was already used to Shen Xun's self-talk; she knew there were things she couldn't see here.

"Your grandfather?" Bai Wuchang didn't look up; his gaze remained fixed on the camera.

"His name was Lin Jianbang." Lin Jian's voice lowered. "He disappeared not long after giving me the camera. His family reported it to the police, and the police investigation said... he went to Mohe and drowned in the river. His body has never been found."

Bai Wuchang remained noncommittal, floating in mid-air, and circled the camera again. Her voice was ethereal and elusive: "Your grandfather may not really be dead." Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking about something insignificant, but Lin Jian's heart skipped a beat, and her fingernails dug tightly into the camera.

Shen Xun opened his eyes, his voice calm, as still as a frozen river: "The evil spirits along the Mohe River might be related to your grandfather's disappearance. There's a man named Old Gu who has been guarding the riverbank for five years. He's waiting for Xiulian; he's atoning for his sins. Xiulian has been trapped at the bottom of the river for thirty years, parasitized by evil spirits, and has already harmed many innocent people. The yin-yang barrier at the bottom of the river is about to be breached; our time is running out."

Lin Jian didn't know who Old Gu was, who Xiu Lian was, or what the thing at the bottom of the river was. But she knew that her grandfather had gone to Mohe and never returned. She had to go. She needed to know what he had gone through.

The White Impermanence floated back into Shen Xun's pocket and disappeared.

Outside the car, the wind was still cold and hard, the sky was a hazy gray, and fine snowflakes began to fall lightly.

Ye Zhuo's gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror. Between the hazy sky and the first snow, a dark shadow hung silently at the edge of his vision on the distant highway, following him at a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

"Someone's following us." She said in a low voice, "A modified off-road vehicle, quite powerful, deliberately keeping their distance."

Shen Xun did not turn around.

Just then, his phone vibrated.

Shen Xun answered the phone. Old Gu's voice came through the receiver, urgent and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against a stone: "Shen Xun, something's wrong by the river. I heard it... Xiulian is calling me. She's calling me from the bottom of the river."

Shen Xun's fingers tightened, but he didn't speak.

On the other end of the phone, Old Gu's breathing grew heavier, as if he was suppressing something, or waiting for something.

"She wants me to go down and keep her company; she wants my life!"

"I understand," Shen Xun said. He hung up the phone, his gaze fixed on the snowstorm ahead.

The dark figure was still following me in the rearview mirror.

Someone is waiting in the wind and snow ahead.

Someone was chasing behind me.

The car is moving forward.

They went away in the wind and snow, never to return.

They embarked on the road to hell.