Dusk settled slowly over Suānchéng.
The hills surrounding the old Yè estate had already fallen into shadow, while the western sky still held the last traces of amber light. Spring evenings in the countryside were always quieter than the cities. Smoke drifted lazily from distant village chimneys, birds called to one another before returning to the trees, and somewhere beyond the bamboo groves, a dog barked once before silence reclaimed the road.
The Yè ancestral residence stood exactly where generations had left it.
Age had weathered its grey brick walls and dark timber corridors, but the manor had endured. Moss clung to ancient stone, wooden pillars bore the marks of countless seasons, and faded paper windows stirred gently whenever the evening breeze found its way through the courtyard.
Time had worn the estate down.
People had not.
Fresh footprints crossed the stone pathways.
Cabinet doors stood open.
Shelves that had once held scrolls now displayed careful gaps where documents had been removed, examined, and returned without regard for their original order. Genealogy books rested on tables they had never belonged to. One ancestral portrait leaned against a pillar after being lifted from the wall, its frame untouched but no longer hanging where generations had expected it to remain.
Nothing had been vandalized.
Nothing had been stolen carelessly.
Someone had searched this place with patience.
And they had known exactly what they were looking for.
The growing darkness made the silver reconnaissance drone seem brighter than it really was. Its pale blue scanning light drifted beneath the covered walkways, sliding across carved beams, stone lanterns and worn floor tiles with mechanical precision.
Standing several steps behind it, Ān Tiān Qǐ watched lines of data scroll across her tablet.
The drone paused.
A soft chime sounded.
She enlarged the scan.
"Residual Arm activity."
Her tone remained gentle, though every word carried certainty.
"Mostly Air."
Another layer of readings unfolded across the display.
She studied them quietly.
"...Mixed with something.. unfamiliar."
Near the western veranda, Ān Shēn removed his glove before resting his fingertips against one of the old stone tiles.
He remained perfectly still.
The breeze moved through the courtyard.
Leaves brushed softly against the roof.
Only then did he speak.
"Water signatures."
He opened his eyes.
"Old."
A brief pause.
"And not ours?"
Ān Bái wandered through the main hall, one hand tucked into his pocket as he looked over the disorder left behind.
He nudged an open cabinet shut with his foot.
"They really went through everything."
He picked up a genealogy register, skimmed a few lines, then placed it back on the nearest table instead of the shelf.
"They could've at least cleaned up after themselves."
Ān Tiān Qǐ smiled faintly without lifting her eyes from the screen.
"You're expecting courtesy from ET?"
"I know."
Ān Bái sighed.
"Still rude."
Despite the joke, his eyes never stopped searching the room.
Every overturned chair, opened drawer, displaced scroll....
Humor never distracted him from work.
It simply made the work quieter.
Silence returned to the courtyard.
Not the uneasy silence of strangers.
The comfortable silence of people who had worked together long enough to understand when conversation helped...
and when it didn't.
The drone drifted toward the western residence.
Another tone.
Lower this time.
Ān Tiān Qǐ stopped walking.
"The west wing."
Ān Shēn joined her.
"The readings changed?"
"They disappear."
She rotated the scan.
"They return."
Another adjustment.
"Then disappear again."
The signal refused to remain stable.
Neither of them spoke.
Footsteps approached through the front gate.
Ān Bái looked over first.
"There you are."
Mù Xiāo Xiāo walked into the courtyard carrying a folded purple parasol beneath one arm. The paper bag in her other hand still released thin curls of steam into the cooling evening air.
She stopped beside Ān Bái.
Without saying a word, she held out a grilled Chinese sausage.
"I bought two."
Ān Bái accepted it immediately.
"I knew you were my favorite."
"You say that every time."
"It keeps being true."
He took an enthusiastic bite.
Ān Shēn adjusted his glasses.
"We've been here almost thirty minutes."
"I know."
"You disappeared after five."
"I know."
"You left during an investigation."
"I was hungry."
"..."
She reached into the paper bag again.
A roasted sweet potato.
"For you."
Ān Shēn accepted it with quiet gratitude.
"...Thank you."
Ān Bái lowered his sausage.
"Wait. You bought him one too?"
"I bought for everyone."
She handed a freshly wrapped jianbing to Ān Tiān Qǐ.
She looked up from her tablet with a warm smile.
"Thank you."
"You forgot dinner."
"I suppose I did."
"You always do when you're working."
Ān Bái folded his arms dramatically.
"So I'm not special after all."
Mù Xiāo Xiāo looked at him with complete sincerity.
"You complain the loudest."
Ān Shēn coughed into his fist.
Ān Tiān Qǐ laughed softly.
Only once.
Then—
The drone released a sharp warning tone.
Every smile disappeared.
Ān Tiān Qǐ's expression settled instantly into quiet focus.
"Everyone."
No one asked what happened.
Ān Bái wrapped the remaining sausage and slipped it into his coat pocket.
Mù Xiāo Xiāo folded the empty paper bag.
Ān Shēn was already beside the drone.
The display pulsed.
One section beneath the western residence continued fading in and out of existence.
"It's rejecting the scan," Ān Shēn said.
Ān Tiān Qǐ guided the drone forward.
The signal returned.
She pulled it back.
Gone.
Forward.
Present.
Back.
Nothing.
The pattern repeated with impossible consistency.
Mù Xiāo Xiāo quietly walked past them.
She leaned her folded parasol against a wooden pillar before kneeling on the worn stone floor.
Her palm rested gently against the earth.
Nothing happened.
The courtyard remained silent.
Then... dust shifted.
Not because of the wind but because the ground itself responded.
Hairline grooves hidden beneath decades of wear slowly revealed themselves beneath her fingertips. A soft violet glow flowed through ancient carvings, dim and steady, like embers refusing to surrender their last warmth.
No one interrupted her.
Even Ān Bái remained silent.
When Mù Xiāo Xiāo finally spoke, her voice barely rose above the evening breeze.
"They opened it."
"The vault?" Ān Tiān Qǐ asked.
A small nod.
"They found what they came for."
Ān Bái frowned.
"So we're too late."
Mù Xiāo Xiāo slowly opened her eyes.
"No."
Her fingers remained against the stone.
"They're gone."
She closed her eyes once more, listening to something only the earth could still remember.
"...But the ground hasn't finished telling their story."
Beyond the manor walls, daylight finally surrendered to night.
The first lights flickered on in the distant village below.
The Yè ancestral residence remained dark.
Only the ancient carvings beneath Mù Xiāo Xiāo's hand continued glowing softly beneath the stone, as though the manor itself had been waiting for someone patient enough to listen.
?"
Yè Yī looked through the rain toward a city that suddenly felt very far away from Suānchéng.
"Yes."
It was the only answer he gave.
After the call ended, he stood quietly beside the cafeteria window.
Outside, students hurried between lecture buildings with umbrellas tilted against the rain.
Inside, lunch continued as though nothing at all had happened.
Only Yè Yī knew that somewhere beyond the mountains of northern Zhejiang, strangers had walked into a house that had spent generations waiting for someone bearing his surname to ask the right questions.
Someone else had arrived first.
And for reasons he couldn't yet explain...
that bothered him more than it should.