Yao Jiang is an investor who likes things in order. Professor Li Zhongxing is an archaeologist who will fight for every find. Mutual hostility turns into a careful friendship, and then into something neither will say out loud, while money and heritage pull at the same ground under their feet.
Start reading
When Yao Jiang got a call from Xiao Qi, he was behind the wheel. Once he hung up, he plucked out his earpiece with one hand, slipped out of the line of cars waiting at the red light, swung his car around, and pressed the accelerator toward the eastern outskirts of the city.
On the phone, Xiao Qi had been breathless with anxiety: “Jon, there’s trouble at the Wanhui City construction site. The crew got into it with a professor from Heliang University. I’m heading over now. Could you—”
“A professor?”
“They say the diggers uncovered some kind of relic…”
“How come nobody reported it? Has the contractor manager Mr. Qin heard about this?”
“No one’s heard yet. They only just found it. Didn’t have time to file a report. The professor must’ve just happened by.”
“That spot is basically empty land on the edge of town. How would he just ‘happen by’?” Yao Jiang frowned.
Xiao Qi clearly didn’t know more—he fell silent, unable to explain.
“I’m heading over,” Yao Jiang said. “Just do your best to keep everyone calm.”
He ended the call and focused on the drive. He figured Mr. Qin would get wind of things soon enough. The site manager, Fang, was someone Yao Jiang had met only once. Fang was a bit loud by nature, but not a total hothead—he’d be unlikely to escalate matters on the spot. One way or another, it would come down to Yao Jiang’s side to decide whether the project kept moving or stalled out—assuming they even had the authority to make the final call.
That thought deepened the crease between his brows. They’d only begun work a few days ago, and already a setback. An unlucky start, indeed.
All those Taoist rites at the groundbreaking—what good did they do? If something really was buried down there, maybe a few grand ceremonies would have spooked it away on its own.
He soon realized the situation was worse than he’d expected. The moment his car arrived, Xiao Qi ran over from the cluster of people, face tight with worry, banging on the window. “Jon! To the city hospital, quick!”
Yao Jiang opened the door and glanced beyond Xiao Qi. Several men in bright yellow safety helmets were helping someone walk. Even though the man stood tall, he was leaning on them for support. Yao Jiang’s heart sank. “That the professor?”
Xiao Qi nodded, yanked open the door, and climbed in first, then turned to ease the professor inside. In the rearview mirror, Yao Jiang was surprised to see how young the man looked. A camera bag hung over one shoulder, and blood had seeped over the top half of his clothing. It was hard to tell exactly where he was hurt because his black jacket hid most of the damage.
“Just an accident,” said the professor—Li Zhongxing—before Yao Jiang could ask, giving a quick label to the whole incident.
Xiao Qi sighed in visible relief. Yao Jiang asked, “Where are you injured?”
“My shoulder,” Li answered. Only then did Yao Jiang notice the dark patch spreading across his jacket where blood must still be oozing. Right then, Mr. Qin called. Yao Jiang gave him a quick briefing and asked him to tell Fang to halt the work for now.
Li Zhongxing caught the word “for now” and frowned.
They reached the ER, where Xiao Qi helped Li out of the car while Yao Jiang went to park. As he pulled into a spot, he used voice commands to call his assistant Abel. He told Abel to run three checks: first, look up male instructors in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties at Heliang University’s History Department; next, track down all archaeological rescue digs in Heliang City over the past five years related to commercial development; finally, see if the municipal rules on land acquisition contained any special provisions for relics. Abel got the gist halfway through, so Yao Jiang simply asked if he could free up a mealtime slot in the next couple of days.
He then phoned the head of Puyuan Logistics to apologize for missing their scheduled meeting and asked to reschedule. “I’ll owe you three rounds of drinks,” he joked.
“Don’t put yourself out like that, Mr. Yao,” the other man said, laughing. “Though I hear M&C might be developing its own cold-chain logistics?”
“It’s only at the negotiating stage with the Commerce Bureau,” Yao Jiang replied. “But if Puyuan’s willing to partner with us, we’ll have it easier.”
They kept the talk short. After hanging up, Yao Jiang received four background reports from Abel. One was on the man he’d just met: Li Zhongxing. Despite looking fresh-faced, Li really was an associate-level professor in his early thirties.
Skimming down the file, Yao Jiang noted that Li had an impressive record—he’d overseen most of the city’s major excavations for remote-era relics. Li’s primary affiliation was the Archaeology Institute of the Academy of Social Sciences, not technically Heliang University, though he spent the majority of his time doing fieldwork and mentoring graduate students.
A note when something new is out, a preorder opens or a price drops.
