Chapter 1

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.

Heliang City’s rich sites from the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties were major tourist draws.

This Professor Li… might prove tough to handle.

Yao Jiang set his phone aside and found Xiao Qi and Li in the ER. The professor had his jacket draped halfway on, a fresh bandage wrapped around his left shoulder.

“Professor Li,” Yao Jiang said, moving forward in a more formal tone, “I’m Yao Jiang, the person in charge of the Wanhui City project.” He handed over a business card and turned to Xiao Qi. “Any update from the doctors?”

“The excavator arm malfunctioned,” Xiao Qi explained quickly. “It just clipped him, and thank goodness Professor Li dodged in time. The doctor said it’s nothing serious—no harm to muscle or bone.”

“Just a surface wound,” Li said matter-of-factly, turning immediately to the site issue. “Mr. Yao, did you conduct any relic surveys on the Wanhui lot before you broke ground?”

“Heliang City requires them by law,” Yao Jiang replied. “We obtained the relic assessment through the formal channels before filing our plans.”

“Then you’d better double-check the credentials of that survey agency,” Li said with a faint smile, lifting his gaze.

He had striking phoenix-like eyes.

The tension in the air was palpable. Xiao Qi glanced at them both, torn between loyalties, trying to calm things down. “Jon, why don’t you sit? Professor Li, let’s talk this through. Maybe coffee?”

Li shook his head. Yao Jiang chose not to respond to the offer and asked instead, “Have you had a CT scan?”

Xiao Qi hurriedly confirmed he had.

“Mr. Yao,” Li said, “I’ll be clear: there’s something of real historical value buried at Wanhui. I don’t want to stop people from earning their daily wages, but halting construction is a legal and legitimate request, and I’m not budging. A firm should exercise social responsibility. You probably never heard how many times I’ve tried to let the site staff know—every time, they either blocked me or gave vague assurances. I’m guessing you had no idea.”

“I really didn’t,” Yao Jiang said. “We obviously dropped the ball by not setting up a decent communication channel, so I’ll take the blame. And if it means more unexpected costs, well, that’s on us. But, Professor Li, everything’s already signed. Wanhui City is a key project for the local government and M&C’s first major investment in this region. We have to build. Stopping for a year would cost millions in losses. Tell me plainly—how long do you want the site shut down?”

Li seemed to relax a fraction at first, but that final question brought the clouds right back. “Any detailed assessment or excavation takes time. I can’t say whether we can relocate things or must preserve them where they lie—I just don’t know yet.”

“Then there’s not much more to talk about,” Yao Jiang said, rising to go. His phone was blinking to show incoming messages. “Xiao Qi will continue handling your medical bills. You can follow up with him. I’ll take my leave.”

“Right, Professor Li,” Xiao Qi said, stepping forward. “If you need—”

“Mr. Yao!” Li also stood. Yao Jiang paused, turning back with a calm, attentive look. The tailored black suit he wore made Li’s half-on jacket and the shirt cut open for bandaging look especially disheveled. But Li’s bearing didn’t waver, and neither man seemed ready to back down.

“One year,” Li said with a weary sigh. “Give us one year. The site’s huge, and within that time, I’ll have an answer as to whether everything can be moved or needs to stay put.”

He was hurt and saw a chance—if they couldn’t negotiate in good faith, he’d push it through official channels. He knew perfectly well how the Cultural Relics Bureau’s priorities measured up against the Commerce Bureau’s. Their director was already avoiding him. And even if something truly ancient were preserved right there, it wasn’t like a grand palace site from the Han or Tang dynasties; few tourists would bother traveling so far just to see a bunch of ancient bones.

Yao Jiang made no promises—he merely inclined his head and walked away.

“Damn,” Li muttered as he sank back onto the seat, yanking on his wound. His face twisted a moment, and Xiao Qi hovered with obvious concern. Li waved him off, checked the time, and called Li Ru—his most reliable graduate student—to stand guard at the site with two other students.

Once they were on their way, Li, sounding apologetic, told Xiao Qi, “Really, Mr. Qi, there’s no need to stay. I’ll head out soon… No hurry about the medical bill either.”

Xiao Qi helped him struggle back into his jacket and swapped contacts with him on WeChat before leaving. Li sent Yao Jiang a friend request, waited a moment with no response, then decided not to linger. He picked up the boxed meal and headed out of the ER, crossing the hospital’s main courtyard and making his way to the inpatient wing at an unhurried pace.

Early spring sunlight bathed the grounds. Nurses and orderlies wheeled elderly patients out in hospital gowns to sit among the fresh green leaves. The red-leaf plum trees were in bloom, white blossoms dusting the branches like fallen snow.

Li showed his ID to the security guard at the elevator and rode up to the eighth floor. He exchanged nods with a few nurses he recognized, then slipped into a quiet private room at the end of the corridor. He moved a chair over to the bed, set down his food on the bedside table, and ate in silence.

The elderly man had been sleeping for much of the past six months’ treatments. By now, Li knew how to bide his time.

So when the old man opened his eyes and turned his head slightly, the first thing he saw was Li, cheerfully and quietly eating his lunch.

Though Li was already thirty, to the eighty-two-year-old Li Yongji, he was still just a young pup.

“Zhongxing,” the old man murmured, “you’ve come again.”

“Teacher.” Li put down his chopsticks and held the old man’s hand with his good arm. Because of his cataracts, Li Yongji couldn’t see the fresh bandage beneath Li’s jacket.

The old man didn’t return the squeeze, only said, “Go on, finish your food.”

“Teacher, I visited the Wanhui site today.”

“Mmm. But at least eat first,” the old man replied, just offering a faint smile.

“I know I’ve made things difficult for people. Every day the work stops is a day the laborers lose income,” Li said, looking down. “And I’ve been using Heliang University’s name to put pressure on them…”

“They brought you here from Beijing, so they should back you,” the old man said. “Otherwise, why bother leaving the capital?” He paused. “Did you manage to settle it?”

Li shook his head. “The developers let the issue fester and shoved the conflict onto the workers. But the real problem is the investor. If they won’t step in, then we’ll keep going in circles. I ran into their person in charge today, Yao Jiang. He’s not that old, but already a fox—tricky.”

“No need to hurry. Take your time,” the older man said.

Li simply blinked, not mentioning that he’d promised to wrap it up within a year. He couldn’t really afford to take his time at all.