Raindrops fell from the decaying wooden beams, splashing into a puddle before Mo Bai's eyes, creating small ripples. The eaves of the old house had fallen into disrepair in recent years, and whenever it rained, water would seep through the cracks in the roof ridge and drip onto the blue brick floor of the main hall. In the past, this sound had always irritated him, but today it seemed extraordinarily peaceful, like the flowing marker of time.

The sound of an engine suddenly rang in his ears, and he instinctively looked up toward the window. A police car bearing the municipal bureau's license plate stopped on the muddy road at the village entrance. The car door opened, and two police officers walked with even steps toward the village committee office. Mo Bai's breath hitched slightly, but he didn't feel much surprise.


Three days ago, upon returning from the Ancestor's Tomb, he had anticipated this day would come.

"They've come after all," he said softly, his voice dissipating in the humid air.

Chen Xiaoyu ultimately chose to report it. He didn't blame her. In some ways, he even thanked her in his heart for ending this game that was destined to be unsustainable.


Mo Bai sat in the old wooden chair, his gaze sweeping across the various documents spread on the floor—a commendation from the Japanese army, Qin Mingyuan's notes, and the confession of the ancestor Qin Lizhi. The truth lay within these yellowed papers, silently accusing the choices made across generations.

A knock on the door abruptly sounded.


Mo Bai didn't get up immediately, but slowly closed the folder in front of him and said softly, "Come in."

Village committee director Uncle Zhang pushed the door open, his face bearing an ambiguous expression somewhere between sympathy and awkwardness: "Mo Bai, someone from the town is here to see you."

Mo Bai nodded: "Police?" Uncle Zhang's eyes flashed with surprise: "You knew?"

"I guessed." Mo Bai stood up, dusting off non-existent dirt from his pants, "What did they say?" "They said it's a routine visit, to learn about the protection of ancient tombs." Uncle Zhang lowered his voice, "Someone reported that the ancient tomb on the mountain behind our village has been dug up."

Mo Bai's expression didn't change at all: "I understand, I'll go over right away."

Uncle Zhang seemed to want to say something but held back, and finally just sighed, turning to leave.

Mo Bai quickly gathered the documents on the table into an old leather case and hid it under the bed. His movements were calm and efficient, as if he had rehearsed them countless times. After surveying the room to ensure there was nothing suspicious, he headed toward the village committee office.

The village path was muddy in the rain. Mo Bai walked slowly, each step landing on the edge of puddles. He had walked this road for over thirty years, from skipping to school as a child to now trudging with heavy steps to face possible legal consequences.

He suddenly recalled how his great-grandmother had held his hand along this same path when he was little, telling him: "A child of the Qin family must walk steadily, because beneath our feet lies the glory of our ancestors." Ironically, he was now about to pay the price for uncovering the truth about this "glory."

In the simple meeting room of the village committee, two police officers were already seated. A middle-aged officer was leafing through documents, while a younger officer vigilantly surveyed the surroundings.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Qin Mobai?" The middle-aged police officer looked up, his voice formal yet polite.

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Captain Li from the City Cultural Relics Enforcement Squad, and this is my colleague Xiao Wang." The officer showed his credentials, "We received a report that someone has been illegally excavating in the ancient tomb area behind the village mountain. According to the informant, you have been frequently visiting that area recently, carrying digging tools. Could you explain the situation?"

Mobai didn't answer immediately, but glanced out the window. The rain was growing heavier, the water vapor blurring the glass, making the outside world appear hazy and unclear.

"The informant is Chen Xiaoyu, isn't it?" he finally spoke. Captain Li's eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly: "The informant's information is confidential."

"I understand." A bitter smile appeared at the corner of Mobai's lips, "But it's alright, she did the right thing."

This remark seemed to surprise the officer. He closed his notebook and switched to a milder tone: "Mr. Qin, as I understand, you were once an antique appraiser? Then you should be clear that unauthorized excavation of ancient tombs is a serious illegal act."

"I am aware of the legal provisions."

"So, do you admit to conducting excavation activities?" Ben remained silent for a moment, his gaze falling on a scratch on the table:

"Do I need to consult a lawyer?" The officer displayed a professional smile: "That's up to you. Currently, we're only conducting a preliminary investigation and haven't confirmed whether any illegal activities took place. If you're willing to cooperate, things might be simpler."

Ben fell silent again. He had originally decided to confess everything, but faced with actual law enforcement officers, his instinctive sense of self-preservation took over. He knew well that once he admitted to excavation, severe legal penalties would await him.

"I need time to consider," he finally said.

Captain Li nodded: "Understood. However, we may need to inspect your residence. If you don't agree, we'll apply for a search warrant." Just as Mo Bai was considering his options, the door was suddenly pushed open. Qin Zhengde walked in, breathing heavily, with an anxious expression on his face: "What's happening? I just heard that the police are here!"

Captain Li stood up: "And you are?"

"I'm the clan leader of the village, Qin Zhengde, and also Mo Bai's paternal uncle." Qin Zhengde quickly walked to Mo Bai's side, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Is there any problem with this child?"

"We're investigating a possible case of ancient tomb destruction," Captain Li explained briefly.

Qin Zhengde's expression immediately turned serious: "How is that possible? Mo Bai has been immersed in family culture since childhood and has great respect for his ancestors. How could he do such a thing?"

Mo Bai noticed that as Qin Zhengde spoke, his fingers tightened slightly, his nails almost digging into Mo Bai's shoulder.

This wasn't protection, but a warning.

"Patriarch," he said softly, breaking free from Qin Zhengde's grip, "the officer is just following procedure, I will cooperate with the investigation."

Qin Zhengde narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting between him and the officer: "Of course, of course. But Mo Bai has always been in poor health and can't handle stress. How about this, I'll accompany him during the investigation?"

Captain Li politely declined this request, and stated that they needed to speak with Mo Bai alone. Qin Zhengde reluctantly left the meeting room, giving Mo Bai a meaningful look before departing.

For the next two hours, Mo Bai carefully responded to each question from the police, neither admitting to the excavation activities nor completely denying them. He only said that he frequently visited the ancestral grave area for his family history research, and sometimes brought tools to clean the tombstones and observe the inscriptions. As darkness fell, the police finally left temporarily, but made it clear that the investigation would continue, and requested that Mo Bai not leave the village in the near future.

Mo Bai stood at the entrance of the village committee office, watching as the police car disappeared into the distance, feeling an indescribable exhaustion. The rain had stopped, and the evening sunlight pierced through the clouds, coating the damp village with a layer of gold.

"Mo Bai," a familiar voice came from behind, "we need to talk."

Qin Zhengde stood in the shadows, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes.

"Let's go to the ancestral hall," the clan leader said in a tone that brooked no refusal, "it's quieter there."

The ancestral hall was one of the oldest buildings in the village, its wooden structure had blackened with age, yet it remained solemn and dignified. Upon entering, Mo Bai felt an invisible pressure bearing down on him. Memorial tablets of dozens of generations of ancestors were arranged neatly, their gazes seemingly piercing through time and space to observe their descendants.

Qin Zhengde lit several incense sticks and respectfully placed them in the censer. The smoke rose in curling wisps, enveloping the entire ancestral hall in a mysterious atmosphere.

"What did the police say to you?" After waiting for the incense to stabilize, Qin Zhengde asked.

"Can't you guess?" Mo Bai leaned against a wooden pillar, his tone indifferent.

Qin Zhengde's expression froze for a moment: "Someone reported you for grave digging? Absurd. I've already told the whole village that you're just suffering from the impact of unemployment, emotionally unstable, possibly exhibiting some unusual behaviors. Everyone understands."

Mo Bai gave a cold laugh: "So are you helping me cover up my crimes? Or are you protecting the family's reputation?"

Qin Zhengde made no comment, walking to the tablet in the center of the ancestral hall, his fingers lightly brushing the plaque that read "Family of Loyal Heroes": "This plaque has been hanging for over seventy years. It carries not just honor, but the faith of several generations."

"Faith?" Mo Bai repeated the word, his voice tinged with mockery, "Faith built on lies?"

"Lies and truth are separated by just a thought." Qin Zhengde turned around, his gaze intense, "Do you know the true origin of this plaque?"

Mo Bai didn't answer, just quietly waited for what would come next.

"It was in 1953, awarded by the government to honor families of anti-Japanese war heroes. After the approval process was completed, four officials came, wearing crisp uniforms, and read the commendation document in front of the entire village, hanging this plaque with their own hands in the center of the ancestral hall."

Qin Zhengde's voice became low, "That day, the whole village was in a fervor, and the Qin family stood tall for the first time."

Mo Bai frowned: "But my great-grandfather Michael was actually—"

"Was what?" Qin Zhengde interrupted him, "A traitor? Or a hero? Or perhaps, both?"

Mo Bai's pupils dilated slightly.

Qin Zhengde gave a bitter smile: "You think I don't know about the existence of those archives and artifacts? My father, your grandfather's cousin, once told me everything."

The air in the ancestral hall seemed to freeze. Cigarette smoke curled between the two men, blurring their faces.

　"Then why do you maintain this lie?" Mo Bai finally asked the question that had been troubling him for days.

Qin Zhengde took a deep breath: "Because this 'lie' saved the entire family. After liberation, many families with connections to the Japanese puppet regime were purged. The Qin family was spared precisely because your great-grandfather's double identity was cleverly concealed, leaving only the accounts of him passing intelligence and rescuing villagers."

"So he was indeed also helping the anti-Japanese forces?"

"History is rarely black and white, Mo Bai." Qin Zhengde's voice grew heavy, "Your great-grandfather and his brother, one built the road openly while the other crossed the river in secret. On the surface, one was a traitor, the other a resistance fighter, but in reality, they were two sides of the same coin. Later records, to protect the family, erased these gray areas."

Mo Bai felt his heart racing. This matched shockingly well with the clues he had read in Qin Mingyuan's diary.

"Those artifacts," Qin Zhengde paused, "those things you dug up, are secrets buried with the blood and sweat of generations. If made public, it would do far more than just destroy a plaque. The entire village's view of history would collapse."

Mo Bai stared at the wooden beams of the ancestral hall, not knowing how to respond. What Qin Zhengde said had a striking consistency with Qin Lizhi's handwritten notes he had discovered in the founder's tomb—history is written by the victors, and those who live in the margins can only be simply categorized as heroes or traitors.

"I have a proposal for you." Qin Zhengde's voice broke the silence. "The family has a special fund, originally prepared for renovating the ancestral hall. Five hundred thousand, in cash. This money can solve all your difficulties. In exchange, you give me everything you've dug up, then leave this place and start a new life elsewhere."

Mo Bai looked up abruptly: "Are you trying to buy me off?"

"I am protecting our family, and I am also protecting you." Qin Zhengde's gaze was firm. "Those artifacts are precious historical materials in the eyes of the nation, but for our Qin family, they are destructive time bombs. Mo Bai, you're a smart person, you should understand what's at stake."

"What about the truth?" Mo Bai's voice trembled slightly. "Will generations of struggle and pain just be buried like this?"

Qin Zhengde answered calmly: "What is truth? Is it the history acknowledged by the nation, or is it private secrets known to no one? Mo Bai, we live in the present, not to dwell on the past, but to create the future. Five hundred thousand—for you, that's a brand new future."

Mo Bai didn't answer immediately. He walked to the incense burner, looking at the three sticks of incense still burning, remembering the "gray area" mentioned by his ancestors in their diaries. Faced with Qin Zhengde's proposal, he felt a familiar struggle—wasn't this the same dilemma his ancestors had faced generation after generation?

Lanterns were beginning to light up outside the window, but inside the ancestral hall, it remained dim. Qin Zhengde's face was hidden in the shadows, only his eyes flickered with complex light. "I need time to consider," Mo Bai finally said. Qin Zhengde nodded: "A wise choice. But time is running short, the police have already begun their investigation, and that girl called Chen Xiaoyu obviously won't give up easily. I can give you three days at most."

After bidding farewell to the clan leader, Mo Bai walked home alone. Night had fallen, and the village sank into an uneasy silence. His thoughts were tangled like a mess of hemp, impossible to sort out. Five hundred thousand would be enough for him to flee far away and start a new life. But the price was to continue burying that complicated history and become an accomplice to the lie.

Just as he reached his doorstep, a black sedan silently stopped beside him. The window slowly lowered, revealing Old Wei's ambiguous smiling face. "Mr. Qin, could I trouble you for a few minutes?" Old Wei's voice sounded unusually calm.

Mo Bai had no room for refusal. He got into the car, and the moment the door closed, it seemed to seal off his last escape route.

A faint smell of tobacco permeated the car. Old Wei lit a cigar, the red glow illuminating his chiseled face.

"I heard the police came looking for you?" he got straight to the point. Mo Bai looked at him vigilantly: "News travels fast."

"In a small place like this, even the slightest movement gets around." Old Wei exhaled a puff of smoke, "What are they investigating?" "What do you think?"

Old Wei's smile diminished somewhat: "Those artifacts, they're still in your possession, right?"

Mo Bai didn't answer. Outside the window, the village lights were coming on one by one, warm yet distant.