自創小說的集合地

A thousand years later, a tree grew above the abyss. No one knew how it got there. Its roots were buried in the void, but its branches stretched towards the human world, and its leaves were like solidified flames. Beneath the tree sat a blind girl. She called herself "Embers," the last word the Shadow of Ash left for the world. "Who are you talking to now?" a traveler passed by and saw her talking to the air. "The Abyss," Embers smiled, gently tapping the tree's roots with her finger. "It said it was bored today and wanted to hear a story." The traveler frowned. "The Abyss can talk?" "Of course," Embers tilted her head, as if listening to something. "It said it used to be a wolf. The kind that was very hungry, very angry, and very lonely. Then it jumped down and became what it is now." The traveler crouched down and touched the tree trunk. The bark was warm, like a heartbeat. "Does it regret it?" Embers was silent for a long time. The Abyss was also silent. Finally, she looked up, starlight reflected in her blind eyes. "It says regret is something only the living can possess. It no longer has that right—but it doesn't feel it's a shame." "Why?" "Because," Embers placed her hand on the tree, her voice very soft, "every time someone cries beneath this tree, it hears them. It says that's enough." The traveler said nothing more. He leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. The wind rustled through the leaves, making a low humming sound, like a wolf's howl, or a lullaby. The Abyss did not answer. But all the leaves on the tree lit up at once.

In high school, a rule circulated among students: at midnight, if you called your name three times in front of a mirror, you'd see your future self. He scoffed at it, but his roommate's urging made him try it anyway. "Shin, Shin, Shin." There was no change in the mirror. His roommate burst out laughing, and Shin laughed too, turning over and going to sleep. In the middle of the night, he woke up needing to pee. As he got out of bed and passed the mirror, a glance from the corner of his eye saw the person in the mirror still sitting on the bed. He whipped his head around. The 'Shin' in the mirror was looking down at him, slowly raising a hand to point at him, his lips silently forming words: "Why are you still here?" Shin rushed to the bedside and lifted the covers. Lying on the bed was himself. His face was pale gray, his eyes wide open, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. And the 'Shin' in the mirror slowly climbed off the bed, walked towards the door, turned back, and smiled at him: "Thanks. I can finally leave now." The door closed. Shin stood frozen, looking down at his hands—so transparent he could see the floor. The next morning, his roommate couldn't wake Shin in bed. When the ambulance arrived, the doctor shook his head, saying he had passed away during the night. But his roommate remembered hearing someone open the door and go out around 3 AM, humming a tune. That song was Shin's least favorite.

"Now it's the special class graduates' turn to come on stage." It was finally our turn. With a mix of anticipation and curiosity, we lined up and went on stage following the teacher's instructions. "Modwin, Awakened Talent - Dexterous Fingers." This student's companion beast awakened the ability of 'Theft'. "Hou Taotao, Awakened Talent - Deterrent to the Opposite Sex." Indeed, all the male teachers and students in our school have been deterred for six years. It's quite fitting. "Di Pi, Awakened Talent - Burst." Devour and Burst? Are they related? "Next." It was my turn. I silently walked onto the podium and, following the steps, reached out to touch the crystal ball. I felt a coolness spread from the hand touching the crystal ball all the way to my head and eyes. It felt very comfortable, like I had just put in eye drops and then taken a nap – refreshing and invigorating. Then, a tearing sensation in my head, and I found myself in a starry sky. Everywhere – all around, above, and below – was predominantly black, dotted with twinkling starlight. "Kid, long time no see. Looks like you've been living quite well." "Senior, I don't know how to address you yet. Is it okay to call you that for now?" "Suit yourself. But kid, your companion beast isn't cultivated well. Try to feel it more; the space within that little thing is quite extraordinary."

Time passed quickly, and life at the Basic Education Academy was drawing to a close. Today is our last day at the Basic Education Academy, our graduation ceremony, and the day we undergo the talent awakening ritual. After awakening our talents, we will be assigned to intermediate academies based on the talents we awaken. "Time flies. Back then..., in the middle..., I hope... The graduate talent awakening ceremony begins! Please, Class 1-Normal, come up one by one." As per the usual graduation ceremony routine, I skipped it. In fact, I almost fell asleep during these twenty minutes. "Sun Daoyong, Talent Awakened --- Thick Skin." "Cai Laoshi, Talent Awakened --- Mud Swamp." Awakened by Hou Taotao, I watched my peers awaken their talents one by one. I recalled the lessons from before, which taught that there are no useless abilities when awakening talents; as long as you can find a way to use them, you can succeed. But seeing this scene, I realized that only one or two out of ten could awaken combat-related talents. Most of them were related to daily life, such as harvesting, weeding, washing, mining, and so on. And for those with companion beasts that had abilities, the proportion of awakening talents related to their companion beast's abilities was even higher. For example: those in the specialized class whose companion beasts awakened elemental abilities could almost all awaken similar elemental talents. Those with defensive abilities also awakened talents related to defense. Now, I'm starting to wonder what kind of talents our special class will awaken. After all, our class has only increased from 10 to 12 people in six years, which shows that we are truly rare beings.

Someone recorded it. That tape is in Forensic Pathologist Zhou's hands." All eyes turned to Old Zhou. Old Zhou remained silent for a long time. The fire in the fireplace crackled, and the wind and snow picked up outside the window again. He slowly took out an old cassette tape from his pocket. The black plastic casing was already worn and faded, with a yellow label stuck to the side, bearing a date. September 15th, eighteen years ago. "I've kept it with me," Old Zhou said, his voice hoarse. "After I retired, it was the only thing I didn't hand back. Because I heard what was on it. I knew if I handed it in—" He didn't finish. "Play it," Chen Mo said. Old Zhou glanced at him, then stood up and walked over to an old-fashioned tape recorder by the bookshelf. The machine had originally been used as a decoration, but when Old Zhou pressed a switch, the indicator light came on. He inserted the tape and pressed the play button. At first, there was static. Then, the sound of wind, a distant wind. After that, a man's voice emerged—deep, slow, as if reciting something. It was Zhang Zhenyu's voice. "...The last night of the seventeenth year. The children of Fog Valley have left. But I stayed. I had to stay." "That room hasn't been opened yet. The key is still here. But the key doesn't know it's a key." "If he ever returns, please tell him—don't open that door. There's nothing he's looking for behind the door. Behind the door, there's only..." The tape cut off here. A long blank, and then (To be continued)

“What did you say?” “You didn’t look closely at the addendum of the post-mortem report, did you?” Lin Jing said. “The fingerprint comparison of the third perpetrator matched an adult male from Gugu Village. He was a missing person, but he didn’t ‘disappear’—he became a kidnapper.” Fang Guodong clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Chen Mo saw a flicker of an emotion he had never seen before in his eyes—not anger, but something deeper, darker. Lin Jing continued, pointing at Shen Yuehua: “Dr. Shen, your foundation has actually been protecting the secrets of Gugu Village. You might not know everything yourself, but the files you hold are key.” Pointing at Xu Ziqian: “Xu Ziqian, your multinational corporation purchased all the land around Gugu Village. Why?” Xu Ziqian was silent for a few seconds, then said, “Because my father was the original owner of that land. He told me before he died that something was buried beneath it, and that I had to buy it back no matter what.” “Buried what?” “He called it ‘a room that should not be opened.’” Finally, Lin Jing pointed at Chen Mo. “And you, Chen Mo. You are the only person in Gugu Village who is ‘alive but treated as dead.’ You are the key. Without you, they cannot complete what they failed to do eighteen years ago.” “Who are they?” Chen Mo asked. Lin Jing’s pen tip stopped on the paper. “I don’t know their names. But I know one thing—” she looked up, her eyes gleaming in the firelight, “Someone recorded the night Gugu Village disappeared. (To be continued)

After they left the village, they lived in Taipei, Taichung, and Kaohsiung respectively, without contact. But within three months of the same year, they successively disappeared. No bodies have been found to this day." "So you knew about Fog Valley from the beginning?" "I did. I wasn't surprised when Zhang Zhenyu invited me. Because I've been following this lead for five years. I came here—" she paused, "—because I wanted to know what happened back then." "What did you find out?" Lin Jing opened her notebook, flipped to a page, and turned it towards Chen Mo. A diagram was drawn on it. A circle with a tree in the center, and a rope beneath the tree. The end of the rope split into five strands, pointing in five directions. At the end of each direction was a name. The five names were: Lin Jing, Zhou Zhengguo, Fang Guodong, Shen Yuehua, and Xu Ziqian. "This is the connection diagram I drew after receiving the invitation," Lin Jing said. "I was wondering, why me? Why the six of us?" She pointed to her name: "Me, because I'm investigating the Neihu disappearances, and those victims came from Fog Valley." She pointed to Old Zhou: "Forensic Pathologist Zhou, because you were in charge of the initial investigation of the Fog Valley case back then, but your report was suppressed. You know part of the truth." She pointed to Fang Guodong: "Commander Fang, because one of the criminals who died during the raid three years ago—his identity was later confirmed as one of the missing persons from Fog Valley village." Fang Guodong's expression changed. "What did you say?" (To be continued)

There were forty-seven people in total. But when I counted, the names on that wall—" she took a deep breath, "—there were forty-eight. One extra. "What was the extra one's name?" "Chen Mo." The room was so quiet you could only hear the crackling of the fireplace. Chen Mo closed his eyes for a moment. Eighteen years ago, forty-seven people from Fog Valley Village disappeared collectively, but there were forty-eight names on the wall—he wasn't on the missing list, yet he was inscribed on that wall, like someone already dead. "Are you saying," Old Zhou's voice came from the corner, "that Chen Mo is 'alive' in the official records, but 'dead' in Fog Valley Village's records?" "Yes," Shen Yuehua said. "That's why I've been investigating this. I thought Chen Mo was a child who died young, and the villagers inscribed his name on the wall as a memorial. I didn't expect—" She looked at Chen Mo, a complex emotion in her eyes. "I didn't expect you to be alive." "And standing here," Chen Mo said, his voice very calm, "invited as a guest to a seminar on 'psychology.'" He turned to Lin Jing. "Professor Lin, it's your turn. What's the connection between your 'Neihu Serial Disappearances' and Fog Valley?" Lin Jing didn't deny it. She closed her notebook and looked up, her gaze almost unsettlingly calm. "The three victims of the Neihu Serial Disappearances," she said, "were all residents who had moved out of Fog Valley. After they left the village, (To be continued)

He walked to the coffee table, placed the leather suitcase in the center, and opened the lid. Photographs, diaries, and letters were laid out one by one before everyone. He didn't hide anything—at this moment, hiding would only deepen the fear. "Mist Valley Village," he said. "A village that vanished overnight eighteen years ago. I was once a resident there. I had forgotten everything, until now." Silence. Shen Yuehua's lips moved as if to speak, but no sound came out. Lin Jing stopped writing. Old Zhou looked up from under his hat brim, his gaze sharp. Fang Guodong stood at the doorway, like a silent statue. Xu Ziqian walked over, looked down at the photos, then raised his head: "So you were the 'Eighth Person'? You were the real target of this manor from the beginning?" "Perhaps," Chen Mo said. "But I'm not sure. Because I still have too many blanks." He turned his gaze to Shen Yuehua. "Dr. Shen, the remote village your foundation funded—was it Mist Valley?" Shen Yuehua's fingers tightened around her water glass. Her lips trembled slightly, then she nodded. "I... I don't know what to say. When I took over the foundation five years ago, I saw an old file saying a mountain village needed long-term psychological counseling. I went to that place—there was no one there, only abandoned houses and a temple. On the temple wall, names were carved all over." "Who were those names?" "All residents of Mist Valley Village. Not a single one missing. Forty-seven people in total. But (To be continued)

Shen Li's phone rang. The caller ID showed her own number. She stared at the screen for three seconds and answered. "Hello?" Her own voice came from the receiver, very calmly: "Open your closet now." Shen Li's spine chilled, and she turned to look at the closet. The door was shut tight. "Who is this?" "It's you," the voice said. "Tomorrow's you. You're going to die in the closet today, and I'm calling to warn you—don't open it." Shen Li breathed a sigh of relief, put down the phone, and opened the closet. Just then, the voice on the other end added: "But you've already answered. Answering means you're going to open it." Shen Li froze. She looked down at her phone's call history. The last incoming call wasn't from her number. It was from the phone on the closet, its screen lit up. But she had never put a phone in the closet. And now, a ringing sound came from inside the closet. Caller ID: Shen Li.