Chapter Three: A Stunning Surprise

The room was unusually quiet. After my father uttered those three words, a chill crept up my spine, and I couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling.

“Dad, that, that…” Before I could finish my sentence, I realized beads of sweat had already formed on my forehead.

Even someone as worldly as my father grew solemn at the mere mention of “ghosts,” let alone someone like me. Zombies, though terrifying, are at least tangible, their horror something you can picture. But those elusive spirits—there’s something far more chilling about what you cannot grasp.

He flicked his lighter again, exhaled a long plume of smoke, and spoke at last: “That’s why I say the family blood is a curse. No one knows for sure what those white shadows are, but I believe they can only be ghosts.”

Unable to calm myself, I lit a cigarette too. Halfway through it, I asked, “Dad, then why does this cursed blood appear only in our Yuan family?”

“It’s the sins of the ancestors.” Once again, that look of helpless resignation appeared on his face. “The Yuan family’s fate is nothing more than paying back a debt. One evil act, and countless generations are doomed to suffer. Long ago, one of our ancestors did something incredibly foolish, and so, we descendants must bear the consequences. But enough time has passed. My generation should bring this to an end. I don’t want you to endure this any longer.”

As he spoke, my father fixed me with a long, searching gaze.

From his words, I could guess at some things. But just as he had asked me before, I realized I didn’t truly believe in such matters. Perhaps it was simply that my father and I viewed the world differently.

Suddenly, a thought struck me, and I asked, “Dad, is all this also the reason you and Huasheng have such issues? When you talked about ‘you people’ and ‘us,’ who exactly were you referring to?”

He broke into a grin. “Ha! You brat, didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to ask about these things? Seems your curiosity’s growing after all. You’re even starting to fool your old man.”

I was left speechless by his retort.

He took another long drag from his cigarette, and it seemed as if he’d made up his mind. “Listen, just set these matters aside for now. You’ve graduated college—spend some time at home reading, or seek out people who understand these old traditions. Once you’ve learned a bit more about our history, we can talk again. Only then will you be able to understand a few things.” He stood up, sighing. “This time, you escaped with your life and kept the Blue-Blooded Dragon Mark. I’ve done right by your grandfather. Now I see it’s no good to keep all this from you. There’s still a long road ahead. I’ll tell you everything, little by little. But there’s still more to do, and I won’t have time to visit you in Beijing for a while. You’d better find yourself a wife while you’re there. And what happened this time—your old man owes you. But promise me, you’ll never go tomb-raiding again.”

I didn’t need his warning—I’d never dare set foot in a place like that again. Sensing my father was wrapping things up, I figured it was time to bring out the Blue-Blooded Dragon Mark.

“Don’t worry, I’m not nearly that brave,” I said, and produced the wooden box.

He took it from me, eyeing me slyly. “You didn’t even try to open it?”

“I was going to ask you! This thing doesn’t have a lock or a latch—why won’t it open?”

My father smiled mysteriously. “A worthless box? You know nothing. Even without the Blue-Blooded Dragon Mark inside, this box alone could fetch a million if I sold it.”

“No way. Aside from the intricate carvings, there’s nothing special about it.”

Clearly, he had no patience for my lack of appreciation. He simply told me the box was the kind of thing only an empress could use in the Han dynasty palace.

“You’re right, there’s no lock, but opening it requires a special method. Go turn on the air conditioner,” he said.

I glanced over. “Isn’t it already on?” In this heat, without AC, we’d have been stewing in our own sweat just from chatting.

“Tsk, I mean switch it to heat.”

“Heat?” I was taken aback. “Dad, if you’re cold, we could just turn it off. Why heat? You want to steam yourself like in a sauna?”

He chuckled. “This box is made from wood that lay buried on a snowy mountain for five hundred years. It’s frigid to the core… You know about expansion and contraction, right? The reason you can’t open it is exactly that…”

His explanation made everything clear. The upper and lower halves of the box were made from different types of wood. The lid was crafted from that centuries-old cold wood, which naturally contracts under ordinary conditions, clamping tightly onto the base.

No wonder the box always felt icy after a while—it all made sense now. I understood why he wanted the heat on.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of hot air turning the room into a furnace, my father easily popped the box open. It nearly killed us, though—the temperature must have reached forty degrees. By the time the box was open, I was wearing nothing but my underwear, while my father, ever composed, showed only a sheen of sweat on his brow.

When the box was finally open, I had no desire to look at the Blue-Blooded Dragon Mark inside—I just rushed to flip the AC back to cool. I stood in front of the vent for four or five minutes before I turned around again.

By then, the box was empty, and my father was holding a strange piece of something I couldn’t identify.

At that moment, not only I but even my father looked thoroughly puzzled. I stared at the object he’d taken out—was it a chunk of rusty iron, or a lump of dried mud? Either way, it looked battered and worthless, with no resemblance to an antique or the so-called legendary artifact he’d described.

“Dad, I don’t know much about antiques or burial goods, but if this is the Blue-Blooded Dragon Mark, shouldn’t it at least be blue, or have a dragon on it? This thing… to me, it just looks, well, yellowish.”

“You… you know nothing. The true treasures of the world aren’t about appearances. Al—al—although this thing does look a bit… odd, your grandfather couldn’t have been wrong…”

“So after all this, you’re just going by what Grandpa told you?” I couldn’t help but worry that all the trouble I’d been through might have been for nothing.

“Tsk, don’t worry about that,” my father said, casting a wary look at the object before putting it back. He checked the time. “Alright, let’s go get something to eat. We can leave by noon.”

“But Dad—”

Just then, a spark of inspiration flashed through my mind: the letter.

I hadn’t been able to make much sense of the contents, but it seemed important. Whether or not to show it to my father would have to wait until he told me more of the real story. But I figured at least the photograph inside could be shown to him.

At first, I’d thought the photo was just overexposed. But after reading the letter, I realized there was no reason for someone to include such a photo unless it meant something. On closer inspection, I noticed the white parts of the photo felt different to the touch, almost like the matte finish on a phone case.

With my father’s experience, if there was something unusual about the photo, he might recognize it. And if there was something hidden in the image, I could observe his reaction for clues.

But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I realized I’d never tried to outsmart my father before, and I hesitated once again.