The shelf was empty. The Qing Dynasty porcelain was gone.
Qin Zhi'ai saw that the floor was immaculate.
Who could've cleaned this up?
But at least that explains his hand injury I saw at Baisheng. Did Old Master Gu—?
Her colleagues were quietly gossiping among themselves, as Qin Zhi'ai became aware of how dangerous the situation must have been.
She stood in a trance for some moments before checking the time on her computer screen—time to go home. With work still left to do, Qin Zhi'ai organized her files and downloaded them onto her flash drive. She grabbed her bag, said goodbye to everyone, and left before anyone else.
After returning home on the subway, Qin Zhi'ai ate a bowl of noodles, went to her bedroom, and turned on her laptop to finish the day's work.
Her mind drifted as she worked, making it difficult to focus. It took her three hours to finish what should have been done in one.
