Chapter 1: Rusty Silver

The rain in Shiquan Town always smelled like rust. Lian Winters crouched at the entrance of the abandoned mine, water sheeting down his waterproof jacket and pooling in the muddy puddles at his feet. This place was the town's open scar; ever since it shut down in the nineties, it had become a temporary camp for drifters and scavengers. He raised his wrist, and his smartwatch screen glowed in the dim light, the time reading 10:17 AM. A notification popped up in the bottom right corner, a message from Nora Vaughan: *“The artifacts are en route. Don't be late.”* Lian didn't reply. He just stared at the massive pile of rubble ahead. Out in public, he was a licensed artifact restorer, using that clean identity to build connections and resources in the industry. But behind closed doors, he transported "dirty goods"—items that couldn't make it through legitimate auction houses—to Nora's sanctuary. His mission today was simple: before the mine cleanup crews rolled in, he needed to confirm the location of a rumored family crest silver coin.

"You're standing in the wrong spot, Lian."

A raspy voice drifted from the depths of the tunnel. Hete Grey walked out with a lit pipe clamped between his teeth, his back hunched. The clinic doctor was usually dressed in that same faded work shirt, the cuffs stained with grime that no amount of washing could remove. In his hands, he held a rolled-up, yellowed blueprint, its edges frayed and worn.

"These are old maps from the geological survey department," Hete said, unrolling the chart onto a dry rock while the rain drummed against the paper. "I've checked them. The support structure in this section collapsed back in 2005. If you walk twenty meters further in, the soil beneath your feet will give way instantly, burying you up to your waist."

Lian squinted, staring at the red markers on the map. "You're saying we can't get in at all?"

"I'm saying your current posture looks like you're a stalk of wheat waiting for the harvest," Hete said, patting Lian on the shoulder with a force that made him stumble. "Don't push your luck. I'm here to warn you: Ethan Vaughan's people are nearby. His drone just buzzed over our heads. You heard that propeller, right?"

Lian had. The sound felt like a cheap threat, slipping through the gaps in the clouds. He rolled up the map, offering no excuses. In this town, Hete was the only one who knew about his double life and was brave enough to call him out on it. That kind of blunt honesty was rarer than any polite formality.

"Thanks, Hete." Lian stood up, the familiar ache in his knee reminding him that his old meniscus tear flared up predictably on rainy days. "But I'm not leaving. That coin is on this horizontal layer."

"A coin?" Hete scoffed. "Your father, Mason Winters, went crazy twenty years ago. He claimed the family was framed because they hid some sort of 'Wolf Bone.' And what was the result? He locked himself in the attic, treating those junk items like treasure. You're still chasing this?"

Lian fell silent for a moment, then pulled a portable X-ray fluorescence analyzer (XRF) from his waterproof bag. The device cost three thousand dollars, was as light as a brick, and served as his true talisman. "I'm looking for proof, Hete. Not to feed my father's delusions, but to prove that this coin isn't just ordinary currency. It's a marker."

Hete looked at the silver-grey box, his expression complex. He was a practical man who trusted microscopes and autopsy reports, and he dismissed the supernatural with a sneer. But toward Lian's stubbornness, he maintained a cautious respect. "Then you'd better hurry. The rain is picking up."

Lian ignored the doctor's warning. Using the coordinates from the map, he began digging into a recess in the side wall of the mine. The earth was wet and sticky, mixed with shards of broken glass and rusty nails. His fingertips brushed against a cold metal surface. His heart skipped a beat. He held his breath and carefully peeled away the surrounding dirt.

It was a silver coin.

It was about four centimeters in diameter and abnormally thick. The surface was covered in a thick layer of green oxidation, the design almost invisible. Lian gently wiped it with a soft cloth he carried, revealing the faint relief on the reverse. It was the Winters Family Crest: a wolf with its head lowered, its paw crushing a broken sword.

"Found it?" Nora's voice crackled suddenly through his earpiece. She had been listening in, monitoring Lian's safety.

"Found it, Nora." Lian's voice was dry. "The surface oxidation is severe. It's the 1998 version. Judging by the craftsmanship, it looks like it was privately minted."

"1998," Nora paused on the other end. "That's the year Mason was arrested. Be careful, Lian. Ethan's people could show up at any moment. You need to confirm its composition. If there are abnormal isotopes inside, that proves it was exposed to a specific environment."

Lian took a deep breath and aimed the XRF probe at the coin. The device hummed softly as an invisible beam of X-rays penetrated the metal surface. A chart of elemental spectra flickered rapidly on the screen. Lithium, potassium, calcium, titanium, iron, copper, zinc... and finally, Silver (Ag).

"Silver content is 99.9%," Lian read off the data. "But there's a peak here. The concentration of Gallium (Ga) is abnormally high, and it's accompanied by trace amounts of Beryllium (Be)."

"Beryllium?" Nora's voice tightened. "Beryllium barely exists in natural silver ore. Unless... it was synthesized artificially, or it came into contact with beryllium alloy materials."

"Exactly." Lian's brain raced. Beryllium is a light, high-strength metal, often used in aircraft and high-end precision instruments. More importantly, in 1998 Shiquan Town, only two companies were involved in beryllium processing: one was a bankrupt mine, and the other was the Vaughan family's industry.

Hete had been standing a few meters away, watching Lian operate the machine. He stepped closer, staring at the data curves on the screen. "That's beryllium, Lian. It's toxic, and it's expensive. Why is it in a circulating coin?"

"Because it's not a coin," Lian powered off the device and placed the silver piece into an anti-magnetic bag. "It's a container. Or rather, a label. Someone sealed certain substances inside the silver shell to track or mark specific items. This coin was tossed into the mine to destroy evidence, or to bury information."

"Destroy evidence?" Hete frowned. "If the Vaughan family did this, why would they throw the marker in the hardest place to find? Unless... they didn't want anyone to know what was inside the coin."

"Or," Lian looked up, rain running down the bridge of his nose, "they wanted people to know, but not Ethan Vaughan. Ethan is good at retrieval. If he knew there was a marker here, he'd send men to dig it up immediately. But this place is abandoned. Only we know the coordinates."

The sound of rain in the distance suddenly intensified. The crunch of tires rolling through water came from the road outside the mine entrance. Lian quickly tucked the coin into the inner pocket of his waterproof bag, his movements practiced, as if he had done it a thousand times.

"Ethan's car," Hete whispered.

"No," Lian looked at the black SUV in the distance, its license plate obscured by mud and water. "It's a different vehicle. Look at the style of the side mirrors. That's a modified vehicle from the Municipal Archives Bureau. Maybe they're here to clean up the site."

"Whoever it is, we need to bail," Hete grabbed Lian's arm. "My car is waiting at the foot of the mountain. If you want to keep playing your archaeological games, at least don't die here. I still need you alive to write that paper on 'abnormal isotope contamination' for me."

Lian didn't pull away. He knew Hete was right. Staying here would only increase the risk of exposure. But there was a knot in his mind that hadn't been untied: why was there a reverse-order coordinate engraved on the back of the coin?

Just as they turned to leave, Lian glanced back. The rain washed over the exposed side of the coin, and the engravings, previously hidden under the oxidation layer, became clear on the wet metal surface.

"Wait," Lian stopped, his heart seizing.

He turned back and picked up the coin from the muddy water. He roughly scraped off the oxidation layer on the back with his thumb. There, a string of numbers was etched.

"38.92, -77.45..." Lian calculated quickly. "These are reverse coordinates. If you flip them, they point to the basement of the abandoned old parish district outside the town."

Hete's face changed. "The old parish district? Didn't half the clock tower collapse there three years ago?"

"Yes," Lian shoved the coin back into his pocket, his movements light and resolute. "There's an unlisted underground archive there. Mason's father's generation hid the true records of Shiquan Town's early founding days there. If this coin is a marker, then the real lead lies there."

"You're crazy," Hete looked at Lian, a mix of worry and a hint of excitement in his eyes. "The old parish district is under Ethan Vaughan's control now. He built a 'Historical Restoration Zone' there. It's displayed to the public, but in reality, it's used to scrub away historical archives that are unfavorable to him. You're going in alone?"

"I don't need to go alone," Lian finished organizing his gear and looked at Hete. "I need you to check something for me. Who was the recipient of the last whistleblowing letter Mason submitted before his arrest? What's the archive number?"

Hete was silent for a few seconds, then pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. A number was written on it. "I already looked into it. The recipient was Nora Vaughan's sister, a woman who went missing ten years ago. Lian, there's no turning back on this path. Once you step into the old parish district, you're standing against Ethan. He will destroy you, just like he destroyed your father."

"I know," Lian said. "But I also know that if I don't go, the buried truth will rot in the soil forever. And I just want to pay back the debt."

In the distance, the black SUV had pulled up to the mine entrance. The door opened, and a figure in a well-tailored grey suit stepped out. Ethan Vaughan held a long-handled black umbrella, his steps elegant and slow. He stood in the curtain of rain, wearing a nearly gentle smile, watching Lian and Hete retreat.

"Lian Winters," Ethan's voice was cut by the rain but still reached clearly. "Your craft is getting better. Not only do you restore old items, but you've learned to dig up new graves. What are you going to do with that coin?"

Lian didn't answer. He exchanged a glance with Hete, then turned and plunged into the slippery mud. The rain behind him grew heavier, as if trying to drown the world. He touched the cool silver coin in his pocket. It made a faint clinking sound inside the bag, like a beating heart.

The last number of the reverse coordinates spun in his mind. What was hidden in the underground of the old parish district? Was it the unfinished truth of Mason's, or a trap meticulously laid by Ethan? Lian didn't know. He only knew that as he walked toward the ruins in the rainy night, every inch of ground his feet touched was changing the future map of Shiquan Town. The silver coin lay quietly against his body, its silver glow flickering in and out of the darkness, waiting for the final answer to be revealed.