As he polished the bottle, he thought he heard the sound of moving water. Like the tides on the beach, it would flow softly. It was like holding a shell to your ear…when he closed his eyes he could almost imagine the salty sea breeze. The ticking sound made him open his eyes again to see the bottle unseal itself, a song rising from the rolling waves and filling his ears. This song felt so familiar, yet he wasn't sure why. The verses had been hummed by sailors and travelers, young and old at the banks of the river but Fuxing had never paid much attention to it. The top then tumbled out on its own and a pink fog quickly poured out of it. Alarmed, he covered his nose and mouth, dropping the bottle on the table in his haste. But before he could move away, it enveloped him and his vision blurred. He regained consciousness on a cold, hard dusty floor. Cobwebs were everywhere, the air was stifling and stagnant. A chill went down his spine as he quickly stood on his feet. This atmosphere, he knew it well. Silence told years of abandonment…just like that old storage room he vaguely remembered sitting in for ages.
There was no exit. Where it was, it was completely blocked off and the only way was deeper in. The further he walked the more he felt grating voices all around him. This place looked dead, and fear rose within him with each step. The library was littered with books but Fuxing kept going forward despite his dread. The voices were almost too loud until he finally arrived at a place that seemed to have some life. Light from above gave a small comfort and he could see more clearly. It was nighttime here too, wherever here was. Where the lotus flowers grew was nearly choked with plants, clearly having been untended for far too long. The halls were eerily empty and it looked like someone had tried to live here for a while. His question as to who was answered when he stumbled upon a skeleton. The young man flinched when he saw it, and there were several pages of paper tucked within its bony fingers. He was deathly afraid to approach, fearing it would rise up the moment he came close. After a few long minutes Fuxing gathered the courage to take the papers, taking care not to damage them. They were old and he didn't want to risk tearing them. If this person had held onto them like life itself, they must be important. He didn't have the luxury of ignoring what he found now; lest he meet a similar fate.
Bringing the papers into the light, he began to read. Slowly, carefully, Fuxing learned of the tragedy of the man whose corpse he had found and the truth about the bottle. This bottle was once a home from what he had seen earlier, but it was changed into a prison by spiteful man. This victim's own father had sent him to his inevitable death here because the spirit of this place denied to grant a wish that went against one's will. The kind spirit was in turn betrayed by the family she had dutifully served. After the last page was read, Fuxing was on his knees. The papers on the ground before him, his head in his hands. In all of his life, he could have never imagined such cruelty. It was too much, too heartless! Everything within him cried out that the punishment of these two individuals was an injustice against the world. The spirit deserved so much better. She deserved to be loved, not used or owned like an object. Just thinking about it all hurt him inside.
If what Vihaan had discovered was true, then the key to breaking this woman free was this song. She had spent thousands of years trapped in a prison of her own home. It was time she was able to live for herself for once. Following the pathway up he found the bottle's spirit as the man had written. Although a statue, there was a faint aura of magic that Fuxing could detect. As a spirit, she wasn't dead. Holding up the pages with the song, he then approached to glyph and recited the song…