Hiromi Collection

Chapter 10

"Sir, are you looking for something you've lost?" the man asked, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he slowly strolled over and casually began arranging the merchandise on the display shelves.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean." Feng Yan looked at the person who was probably the shop owner with some confusion. Although it was early winter, such attire was still too strange in the warm and comfortable shop. Equally strange was this inexplicable question.

“Things you’ve lost, things you’ve missed, things you regret, things you want to make up for—like this waning moon, perhaps you can retrieve them here,” the man said strangely to himself, wiping a cork photo frame on the display shelf with a picture of the crescent moon and drum tower on it with his sleeve.

Feng Yan looked around. The second-floor shop was filled with picture frames of various materials and shapes, but there were only two people there. Besides him, there was the shop owner wrapped in a cotton coat. These words were indeed spoken to him.

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else." Feng Yan forced a smile and prepared to leave. A strange market, strange shops, and strange shopkeepers—one might never encounter all three at the same time in a lifetime, but he had encountered them all today.

He should have left after turning around, but Feng Yan stopped. In that instant, he inadvertently caught sight of the photograph beneath the cuff of his cotton coat. Was he seeing things? He rubbed his eyes and looked again. It wasn't. The crescent moon in the photograph was truly changing. At first, it was a crescent moon peeking through the curtain, then a half-crescent, and finally a full moon radiating a gentle, bright light. The sound of the night watchman's drum echoed from the drum tower, startling crows into flight. A moving… photograph!

"Is this high technology or something else?" Feng Yan looked at the slowly changing photograph in surprise. The full moon turned into a waning crescent moon, and the east gradually revealed the first light of dawn. What was just a night scene had now turned into a morning scene.

"Please excuse my rudeness, sir. These are merely some of my humble tricks." The shopkeeper spoke, his hand brushing across the steel frame of the photograph. Suddenly, as if a spring breeze had arrived, thousands of pear trees burst into bloom! In an instant, all the budding flowers in the photograph blossomed, carrying the warm, moist scent of spring rain in Jiangnan. A delicate fragrance wafted into Feng Yan's nostrils, and a gentle breeze swept through the treetops, creating a pure white rain of petals before them. Feng Yan reached out to catch them, only to see the petals slip through his palm and fall onto the thick, colorful Persian carpet, vanishing in an instant like melting spring snow.

"This..." It's simply amazing! Feng Yan exclaimed inwardly. It's unbelievable that a novelist's fantastical story could actually be brought to life in reality.

He had once read a science fiction story about moving images. The protagonist, Xiao Ma, accidentally acquired a magical camera that could take moving images. Everything captured by the camera's lens was given life and could live realistically in the photograph, like watching a live-action drama. Two lovers who had broken up in real life might develop different lives in the photograph, or people who had died in reality could continue to live in the photograph because their images of health were captured. Xiao Ma used this camera to record the joys and sorrows of ordinary people and wrote novels about them, becoming a great writer. However, after losing the camera, he fell into madness and hysteria, eventually spending his remaining years in a mental hospital. The truth revealed at the end of the story was that the camera didn't actually have any special powers. Xiao Ma had always relied on his keen mind and rich imagination to weave the stories in his writing. However, despite his talent, he was also deeply insecure and wishfully believed that his success was due to the magical camera, leading to a complete mental breakdown after losing it. This story, tinged with a touch of obsession and melancholy, aims to tell people that there is no such thing as a free lunch in the world, and that only by believing in oneself and working diligently can one achieve true success. At the time, Feng Yan was thinking about what he would do with such a camera if he really had one.

Feng Yan is in his early forties and works as an ordinary middle school Chinese teacher. Looking back on his life so far, he seems to have experienced both failures and successes, but neither has had a significant impact on his life. Overall, it's been a peaceful and stable life for an ordinary person. Of course, there have been regrets, such as not getting into university or failing to obtain a top-level professional title, but the most hidden regret concerns a period of youthful arrogance.

While studying at teachers' college, Feng Yan secretly harbored a crush on the prettiest girl in the neighboring class. Due to embarrassment and the prevailing social norms, he never confessed his feelings until graduation. On the day of job assignments, he finally mustered the courage to take a photo with her. After that, they went their separate ways and never saw each other again. Of course, Feng Yan now has a wife and children, but this beautiful, subtly romanticized childhood dream remains quietly in the warmest corner of his heart, occasionally sprouting new growth. If he had confessed back then, would things be different now? Perhaps, one possibility is that she would be his wife. The thought that secretly surfaced in Feng Yan's mind when he read that science fiction novel was precisely what he imagined their lives would lead, as seen in that photograph.

The shopkeeper, wearing a cotton hat, looked at Feng Yan with a cheerful grin, his hands rummaging in his sleeves as if searching for something: "Although it may not be what you imagine, sir, this notebook of mine can still fulfill your wish." As he spoke, the shopkeeper pulled out a narrow, long notebook with a hard cover from his sleeves, which, although wide, were not enough to hide large items, as if by magic.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Feng Yan looked at the short shopkeeper in surprise. Could it be that he had stepped into a novel, like the supernatural tales that his students were currently enjoying?

"Those who do business naturally need to know how to read people's expressions. I was just making a hasty guess based on your expression, sir." The shopkeeper said, flipping open the cover of the book to reveal a thick black cardboard and a semi-transparent thin paper covering it. It was a photo album.

"Sir, you only need to put the photo in, and the person or thing in the photo will naturally come to life and start moving," the shop owner said casually, as if describing something perfectly ordinary.

"Really...it works?" Feng Yan took the album with some skepticism, flipping through it to find any difference from ordinary photo albums, but was disappointed to find that there was nothing special about it that could make such a fantastical story possible. "You're not lying, are you?"

The shop owner shook his head slightly upon hearing this: "You saw those two photos too..."

"Maybe you did this?" Feng Yan suspiciously put down the photo album and picked up the framed photo with the morning scene. The photo had been changed to a stormy night. As Feng Yan moved the frame, the rain turned into a torrent of water that poured down from the frame onto Feng Yan, washed over his calves, and disappeared without a trace.

"If you don't believe me, sir, you can take it back and try it out first. You can pay later if you're satisfied," the shop owner said sincerely, handing the album back to Feng Yan and seeing him out.

Feng Yan's wife was puzzled by his unusual excitement and slight nervousness. He, who never drank, had surprisingly downed a whole bottle of beer that evening without showing any signs of intoxication. After a brief greeting to his wife, he went to his study and busied himself. His first task was to find that precious photograph. This wasn't difficult; he had carefully preserved it for years. And when the photograph was placed in the album, a miraculous thing indeed happened. What appeared before Feng Yan was the actual scene of the photo shoot: the two of them awkwardly standing a distance apart. His own tense, clenched fists and stiff facial expression, and the class beauty's forced smile, were all vividly recreated. He could even hear the noise around them, and figures walking past behind them. Feng Yan saw himself standing there helplessly until the photo was taken, and even when the class beauty shook his hand and left, he remained oblivious.

"Actually, I have a good feeling about you." The class beauty said this while holding her own hand, and then gracefully left.

Feng Yan was stunned. So, the class beauty had also been interested in him back then? Was he too nervous to hear it, or had the photo album already begun to create a life different from reality? Feng Yan began to look on with even greater interest, watching the class beauty and himself fall in love, get married, and witness another version of himself living a different life. Feng Yan didn't sleep a wink that night. At dawn, it was the wedding day of the person in the photo and the class beauty. The photo showed them in elegant attire, and in reality, Feng Yan was overjoyed.

The boss hadn't lied to him after all! Feng Yan planned to pay the other party at the market after get off work. Strangely, the place where he had found the large market yesterday was now just an abandoned, unfinished building. Feng Yan wandered around the area a few more times, but still found nothing. Since that was the case, he had no choice but to give up. Feng Yan returned home and continued looking at his precious photo album.

Not only that photograph, but he also wanted to see what changes would occur in the others. Feng Yan found the family photo album and began stuffing various photos into that wondrous album, one by one. There were black and white photos taken when he was 100 years old, color photos taken when his son was one month old, and his parents' wedding photos from when they were young. As Feng Yan watched those familiar yet unfamiliar scenes unfold before his eyes, it was as if he were looking at fragments of lost memories, and the feelings he had at the time welled up little by little. Happy moments, sad moments, every scene was so vividly presented before him, and in his opinion, this was far more interesting than the deliberate, fake love in TV dramas.

Gradually, everyone around Feng Yan learned that he had developed a hobby of photography and photo albums. He wanted all kinds of photos, and he was always carrying a camera around taking pictures whenever he had free time. Feng Yan's wife was very supportive of his hobby and often gave him photos of her colleagues. After that, Feng Yan started saying strange things to his wife, such as that Old Wang and his wife actually had a bad relationship, and that Xiao Zheng didn't even have a girlfriend. Strangely enough, a few days later, Old Wang's wife actually caused a scene at Old Wang's workplace, and it was discovered that the girlfriend he mentioned was actually his cousin. All of this repeatedly confirmed the truth of what Feng Yan said. Even Feng Yan himself began to believe that this photo album might be a reflection of real life.

A week ago, Feng Yan's wife attended a high school reunion and soon brought back a stack of photos from the gathering, which she, as usual, handed to Feng Yan. Feng Yan looked through the photos one by one, and after everyone caught up on each other's lives, someone suggested playing a truth-or-dare game, where the loser had to reveal something they felt was a regret. Feng Yan listened with a smile as these middle-aged people recounted all sorts of strange stories, like how they longed for the meat buns from the high school cafeteria but couldn't afford them and never got to eat them, or how they had a crush on a teacher but never confessed. But when he heard his wife's honest confession, his heart skipped a beat, and his smile froze on his face.

His wife, looking radiant, blushed and said she used to have a crush on a boy from another school, but she never dared to confess. In the end, she only dared to ask him for an old photo as a keepsake. The people in the photo banged on the table, excitedly shouting for his wife to say the boy's name. Looking at his wife's shy face, Feng Yan felt a surge of inexplicable anger.

Who is this person?! Does his wife still like him? Feng Yan looked at the photos in a fit of rage, but his wife just kept laughing and refused to reveal the person's name.

Feng Yan's wife clearly sensed a change in her husband's attitude towards her. While Feng Yan wasn't a romantic person before, he had always been very considerate towards her. Now, however, she saw only coldness and suspicion in his eyes. Although she tried hard to find the root of the problem, she made no progress and could only watch helplessly as the rift between them widened. Sometimes, Feng Yan's wife even began to feel powerless to support her husband and maintain their family.

When Feng Yan heard that his wife had been in a car accident, he was at home looking through the photos his wife had mentioned. After hanging up the phone, he seemed stunned for a moment, unable to process the news from the other end of the line.

"Feng Yan, Ya Ping is in trouble, she's in critical condition, you need to come to XX Hospital right away!"

It was pouring rain outside. When Feng Yan rushed to the hospital, the doctor told him that Fang Yaping was in her final moments and asked him to go in and see her one last time.

Feng Yan dragged his heavy steps, hesitating for a long time at the door of the ward before finally mustering the courage to open it. The witness's words still echoed in his mind: "Your wife was hit by a truck while protecting a man who was jaywalking. What a pity!" Who could make his wife risk her life to protect him? Could it be... him? A vague answer formed in Feng Yan's mind. He slowly walked to his wife's bedside and looked at her coldly.

Her frail body, riddled with tubes, her once rosy cheeks now deathly pale—this woman, covered in wounds and unrecognizable, was actually his wife? A surge of indescribable emotion welled up within Feng Yan—a mixture of sorrow and cruel schadenfreude. She had betrayed him to protect that man and die; she deserved it!

"Yan...Yan...you've come..."

His wife's hurried and weak voice came from under the oxygen mask, accompanied by heavy breathing. It sounded sharp and frightening. However, her previously unfocused eyes became clear the moment she saw him. Feng Yan knew that this was what was called a final burst of energy before death.

The nurses on the side understood that the patient was beyond saving, so they removed the oxygen mask and quietly left the room, leaving Feng Yan and his wife alone to say goodbye.

"Hmm," Feng Yan replied vaguely, unsure of what expression to wear when facing his dying wife.

"You...you're alright...that's good..." Fang Yaping said, giving a pale smile. "I...I...went to your school to find you...that person...wearing...the same...clothes...as you."

Feng Yan froze upon hearing his wife's words, a sense of foreboding welling up within him. Same clothes... what did that mean?

“I…I thought…you, the truck…I…I rushed over…” The wife’s words began to break into fragments, “You…you’re alright…good…good…”

Feng Yan's face turned deathly pale. He trembled as he grasped his wife's hands, shouting desperately, "Don't say anything, don't say anything! Doctor, doctor, please come and save her!"

“It’s…no use…” His wife smiled, holding his hand with surprisingly strong grip. “I…don’t regret…being your wife. I…love you so…so…so much…the photos…I’ve kept them all…”

"What photos, Yaping, don't say anymore..." Feng Yan shook his head violently, not allowing that terrible thought to even arise. That terrible thought!

“Photos…” The blush on his wife’s face began to fade, and the beeping of the electrocardiogram machine became more rapid. “Yan’s… Yan’s high school photos…”

As the electrocardiogram machine emitted a long, single-pause beep, Feng Yan felt his hand loosen, and his heart sank. Slipped from his wife's pillow was her most beloved old-fashioned wallet, which she had used for so many years without ever replacing. Inside the wallet were black and white photographs. Feng Yan saw his younger self, smiling brightly in a world of black and white, but now he could neither smile nor cry; only hoarse, muffled sounds escaped his throat.

"Have you thought it through?" The strange shopkeeper, wearing a cotton hat, tucked his hands into his sleeves and asked the middle-aged man in front of him with a grin.

"Yes." The man nodded resolutely, entrusting his son to his parents, with no further worries. "Ya Ping, I'm coming to be with you now."

The shop owner raised his right hand, drawing a beam of light, and in the light, the man gradually disappeared without a trace.

"Sorry, the photos here aren't for sale. I only sell frames and albums." The strange shopkeeper, dressed in a black striped shirt resembling a zebra and wearing diving goggles, led the customer away from the huge group photo. In the oak frame, a middle-aged man and his wife were smiling at each other…

This is Pomeranian Market, the largest market in the world, with everything you could want. It's closing time as night deepens, so please come early next time.

Chapter Fourteen: The Soul Lamp

Name: Unknown Gender: Male Age: Appearance: Around 40 years old

Occupation: Owner of Ranranju Restaurant; Address: No. 47, Dongshi Street, Bomei District

Robert Horns strolled leisurely through the crowd, his hands in his pockets and chewing gum, though the gum had been chewing for an entire afternoon and was now tasteless.

His appearance was that of a typical American: short, brownish-gold hair sticking out haphazardly from under his earmuff hat, his bulky body wrapped in a down jacket, and tattered jeans stained with large patches of dirt. If it weren't for the occasional glint of shrewdness in his grey-blue eyes, he would have looked like any homeless person on the street, looking disheveled and tired. No one would have known that this middle-aged man passing by them was the elite police officer who had been awarded a special medal three months earlier for solving a series of dismemberment cases. Naturally, no one would have noticed that he, seemingly wandering around, was actually tracking a target.

"What the hell is this place!" He looked around warily, his mind reeling.

New York City's Chinatown wasn't in his jurisdiction, but that didn't mean he was unfamiliar with it; the place before him, however, felt quite foreign. Starting with the enormous redwood archway, a network of wide, crisscrossing streets came into view, lined with all sorts of shops, flags fluttering, and a cacophony of voices—its liveliness rivaled that of Times Square in the city center, yet it possessed an eerie quality.

The shopkeepers all seemed to be of Asian descent, and the architectural style of the shops was mostly the kind of Eastern wooden buildings seen in movies. Strangely, although each storefront was not large, looking inside gave the feeling of not being able to see the bottom, as if the entire distorted space had been put into a small container. Of course, this was not the main reason why Robert was surprised. What he could not imagine was the goods sold in this market.

He'd been to many black markets, but this was the first time he'd encountered one so openly selling contraband. From heavily armed weapons and ammunition banned by the state to antique treasures unavailable even on the most smuggled art markets, even human beings were openly displayed. In addition, many strange and unusual animals were also being sold. It was truly unbelievable that such a market could exist in New York without being discovered by the police!

The target turned left ahead. Robert spat out the "rubber" he was chewing, temporarily setting aside his plans to thoroughly investigate the market, and followed. To his surprise, after turning the corner, what appeared before him was no longer a commercial street, but a two-story shop building. Judging from the previous road conditions, this shop shouldn't exist, and strangely, two walls had been erected beside it. In other words, this was the only place at the end of a dead-end alley. He took a few steps back in astonishment, even more shocked to find that the commercial avenue that should have existed had vanished without a trace. A small river flowed in front of him, with a blue stone bridge spanning it to the other side. He could hear voices coming from there in the distance, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Out of instinct, he tightened the trigger of the pistol in his pocket and cautiously walked towards the building, inwardly scolding himself for leaving his communicator in the car to avoid revealing his identity.

The shop was decorated in the dark brown hue of mature logs. Two long strings of lanterns hung from the high lintel, swaying gently in the wind and creaking. A similarly brown wooden signboard bore three exceptionally beautiful Chinese characters painted in gold, though Robert couldn't read them. The carved doors were ajar, the interior quiet and dimly lit, suggesting it wasn't open for business. Robert simply drew his beloved gun, crept stealthily towards the door, and then unexpectedly pushed it open.

"Don't move!" he shouted, nervously searching for his target.

"Welcome to Ranranju." In contrast to his voice, a cold, sharp tone suddenly rang out in the dimly lit shop. Immediately, the room was illuminated by dazzling lights; in an instant, hundreds of lights flashed before Robert's eyes. He instinctively closed his eyes, inwardly cursing a bad feeling. But the expected attack did not occur. He sluggishly opened his eyes to find the room brightly lit.

An indescribable shock! The building, outwardly a two-story structure, was actually only a single-story hall inside. The ceiling, shimmering with dazzling light, seemed to be at an extremely high altitude, beyond the reach of even the eye. The same was true of the horizontal limits; the endless black floor tiles stretched forward without restraint, seemingly without end. Robert's eyes were filled with lanterns of all shapes and sizes, layered upon each other, shimmering with a blinding light that made him dizzy. A man in a dark purple pullover stood quietly in the intense light, watching him. "Welcome to Ranran Residence," he repeated, his high cheekbones and thin lips giving him the appearance of a scholar.

“Police.” Robert quickly regained his composure, pulled out his badge to show the officer, and asked, “Where’s the woman who just came in?”

The other person extended a pale, almost sickly hand and pointed to a certain spot. Robert looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a plain white lantern, shimmering with a faint golden light.

“It’s a fine lamp,” the shopkeeper said, walking over to pick up the lantern and examining it closely, his expression showing affection.

"Based on your answer, I can send you to prison or a mental hospital. I wonder which you prefer?" Robert said disdainfully in a deep voice. His patience was limited, and he had no time to deal with this kind of charade of feigning madness.

"You can sit down and have a cup of tea with me. Look, I have some freshly baked Chinese snacks here." The other person said casually, taking out a delicate porcelain teapot from beside him, and then bringing out a three-tiered mahogany censer, placing it on the octagonal table that appeared out of nowhere. He then dragged out two mahogany chairs from the darkness and gestured for them to come in.

Robert stared in disbelief at the other person's magical performance, unsure whether it was Chinese magic or something else entirely.

“We can talk about that lady over tea.” The thin, middle-aged man lifted the lid of the box, and a fragrant aroma wafted out. Robert’s stomach growled a few times, and he realized that he had only eaten one hot dog since morning and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes.

"Alright, then I won't stand on ceremony." He slumped heavily into the mahogany armchair, casually removing his woolen hat to reveal a hideous scar on the corner of his left eye.

The shop owner's gaze seemed to linger on the scar for a moment before he quickly looked away and poured Robert a cup of tea.

“Sorry, I’m not very used to Chinese tea.” Robert looked warily at the delicious food on the table but hesitated to take a bite.

The shop owner smiled slightly, picked up a pastry and put it in his mouth, then took a little of each type, and gestured for him to continue eating. Robert finally relaxed and began to enjoy the delicious treats, quickly finding himself unable to stop.

"You're looking for Mrs. Riski, a customer of our shop, aren't you?" the shopkeeper said in a gentle voice, seemingly unconcerned about the trouble that getting involved with her might bring.

“It’s her.” Robert stopped eating the pastry and looked at the shop owner. “You must have heard about the case that happened two weeks ago where seven people were brutally murdered.”

"Yes, I read the newspaper. I heard they were all motorcycle gang members who died from heart failure caused by ruptured blood vessels. Apparently, their deaths were quite gruesome."

“According to the police investigation, those seven people murdered an innocent high school student two months ago for fun, and that child was Mrs. Riski’s only son.” Robert said, while carefully observing the shop owner’s expression, trying to find a flaw.

"So, the police suspect that Mrs. Riski is involved in this case?"

"At least she had a motive to commit the crime."

"Don't you think a weak woman couldn't have committed that level of murder?"

Robert smiled and said mysteriously, "It's alright to tell you, I have some evidence on hand."

"Then congratulations on successfully closing another case." The shopkeeper smiled slightly, took a sip of his tea, and his expression remained calm.

Robert scratched his head in disappointment; the other person's calm demeanor made it seem as if he truly knew nothing about it.

“If the case could really be closed, why would I have to endure the elements and follow that woman?” He pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his down jacket, took out a half-smoked one, put it in his mouth, and habitually lit the lighter. Then, as if remembering something, he stopped and asked, “You don’t mind if I smoke a cigarette, do you?”

The shop owner shook his head and handed over an ashtray.

“Ah, thank you.” Robert accepted the cigarette somewhat embarrassedly and flicked off the ash. “I found two eyewitnesses who can testify that they saw Mrs. Riski go to the abandoned warehouse where those bastards gathered that night. The problem is, no one can prove how Mrs. Riski killed those seven people. There were no signs of a struggle or any signs of fighting. It was as if all of them were taken away in an instant. You know, even if we catch Mrs. Riski at the crime scene without finding the murder weapon and the method of murder, the law can’t convict her. To be honest, this case has really stumped me.”

"Did your witness mention anything to you about whether Mrs. Riski brought anything special with her that night?" The shopkeeper put down his teacup and looked at Robert with clear eyes. At that moment, he realized that the Asian man's eyes were actually golden, like those bright lanterns. Was he mixed race?

"Something special?" Robert snapped out of his thoughts, took out his notebook from his pocket, and turned to the pages where the statements were recorded.

“Something special, something special…” His fingers searched through the dense records. There it was… “A lantern…” He glanced at it again in disbelief. Why did he have no recollection of it? He had clearly seen it many times before, yet he had never noticed it. He looked at the shopkeeper sitting opposite him in confusion.

“It is indeed an item sold in our shop.” The shopkeeper said, bending down and picking up the plain white lantern from before. “This is the one.” He then handed the lantern to Robert.

Robert took it with some skepticism, examined it carefully, and couldn't see anything wrong with it.

"What does this lantern have to do with the case?"

"Have you ever heard of a 'Death Soul Lamp'?" the shopkeeper asked casually, his expression suddenly becoming inscrutable.

Robert honestly shook his head: "What is that?"

"It is a dwelling place that holds an unseen flame that burns with the nourishment of human obsession and vitality. If properly cared for, it can grant people's wishes." The shopkeeper smiled and stood up. With just a slight wave of his hand, the remains of the tableware on the table disappeared without a trace, leaving Robert looking around in a daze, unable to react for a moment.

"Please lend this lamp to you, Mr. Horns. Within a hundred days, the murderer who killed your daughter will surely..." As the voice faded into the distance, the entire shop went dark again in an instant, with only the plain white lantern in Robert's hand, sitting alone, radiating a faint golden light.