Lin couldn't shake the encounter with Jian from his mind. The man's image, sharp and elegant, kept surfacing in his thoughts, a phantom presence amidst the mundane reality of his student life. He found himself replaying their brief conversation, the way Jian's name had sounded on his lips, a low, resonant hum. He even found himself inhaling deeply, trying to recapture the faint scent of jasmine that had clung to the air around Jian, a scent that now seemed inextricably linked to the man himself.
He tried to focus on his studies, but the words on the page blurred. He doodled Jian's name in the margins of his notebooks, a strange compulsion he couldn't explain. He even ventured back to the night market the following evening, hoping for another glimpse of Jian, but the crowds were thick and impenetrable, and Jian was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment gnawed at him. Had he imagined the intensity of their encounter? Was Jian just a figment of his imagination, a product of the heady atmosphere of the night market?
Back in his small apartment, Lin examined the jade pendant Jian had returned. It was cool to the touch, the smooth surface worn with age. He turned it over in his hand, noticing for the first time a small inscription on the back, etched in an ancient script he didn't recognize. He ran his fingers over the delicate carvings, a strange sense of familiarity washing over him. He felt an inexplicable pull towards the pendant, a feeling that it held some kind of secret, some connection to Jian.
He decided to visit his grandmother. She had given him the pendant years ago, and he hoped she could shed some light on its origins. His grandmother, a woman of quiet wisdom and deep knowledge of their family history, lived in a quiet, traditional house on the outskirts of the city.
"Ah, Lin," she greeted him with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling. "What brings you here so late?"
Lin showed her the pendant. "Grandma, do you know anything about this? Where it came from?"
His grandmother took the pendant, her expression turning serious. She examined the inscription, her brow furrowed. "This… this is an old family heirloom," she said slowly. "It's been passed down for generations."
"Do you know what the inscription means?" Lin asked eagerly.
His grandmother hesitated. "It's a… a protective symbol," she said finally. "It's meant to ward off evil spirits."
Lin frowned. "Evil spirits? What kind of evil spirits?"
His grandmother shook her head. "It's an old story," she said, her voice trailing off. "A story best left untold."
But Lin was insistent. He had a feeling that the pendant, Jian, and the strange pull he felt were all connected. He needed to know the truth, no matter how strange or unsettling it might be. "Grandma," he pleaded, "please tell me."
His grandmother sighed, looking at the pendant in her hand. "Very well," she said. "But be warned, Lin. Some stories are best left buried in the past." And as she began to speak, the scent of jasmine seemed to fill the room, a silent promise of secrets yet to be revealed.