Xinyi: Walking Into the Past
The warehouse loomed in the darkness, its metal walls rusted from years of neglect. The air smelled of old dust and forgotten intentions.
Xinyi stepped forward, her heels crunching softly against the gravel. The key turned stiffly in the lock. Then—the door creaked open. A stale, heavy stillness settled around them. The kind that suggested time had stopped here long ago.
Her father's ghost wasn't in this place.
But his secrets were.
Mei clicked on a flashlight, sweeping the beam across the empty floor. "What exactly are we looking for?"
Xinyi exhaled, stepping inside. "Something he left behind."
She didn't know what, but the ache in her chest told her she'd know when she saw it.
"Let's get some light in here," Ji Yao muttered, striding toward the breaker panel on the far wall.
The moment he flicked the switch—nothing happened. Not even a flicker.
"Figures," he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Either this place hasn't had electricity in years, or someone didn't want it to."
Xinyi barely spared him a glance, but Mei smirked. "You sound disappointed, Ji Yao. What, you wanted mood lighting?"
Ji Yao grinned, the kind of smirk that looked too natural on someone that effortlessly attractive. "Can't investigate a haunted warehouse without the right atmosphere, can we?"
Beside him, Lin Zhou sighed, arms crossed. Unlike Ji Yao, Lin Zhou didn't waste words.
He was taller, broader, and carried himself with an aura of quiet authority—the kind that didn't need to be loud to be dangerous.
"We should move," Lin Zhou said, voice even. "Standing around makes us targets."
Xinyi nodded. At least one of them had their priorities in order.
But even with Ji Yao's quirks, and Lin Zhou's bluntness, she trusted them.
They had proven their reliability time and time again—their skills sharper than their words.
And that was why she was willing to have them here.
Because what they found in this place might be something she wouldn't want just anyone to see.
...
Clues in the Dark
The warehouse wasn't just abandoned. It was deliberately stripped.
Shelves stood empty. Dust covered surfaces untouched for years. Everything of value had been taken—except for one thing.
"Over here," Lin Zhou called.
Xinyi turned.
Against the far wall, hidden beneath an old tarp, sat a locked chest.
A family crest was carved into the wood—half-faded, but unmistakable.
Liang.
Mei crouched beside it, running a hand over the surface. "Do you think it's—?"
"Yes," Xinyi cut in, kneeling. Her fingers brushed against the lock.
It wasn't rusted. Which meant someone had been here.
Recently.
The realization made her pulse quicken.
She wasn't the only one looking for this.
...
Unsealing the Past
"Step back," Ji Yao muttered before producing a small set of lockpicking tools.
Xinyi raised a brow. "…Remind me to ask where you learned that later."
Ji Yao smirked but said nothing, working quickly. A few tense clicks, and the lock snapped open.
Silence.
Then—Xinyi pushed open the lid.
Inside, nestled in layers of aged silk, were old documents, letters, and an intricate box wrapped in red string.
Her breath hitched.
She recognized the handwriting on the letters.
Her father's.
Mei leaned over her shoulder. "Are these—?"
"His personal records." Xinyi lifted a bundle of papers carefully. Pages filled with notes, theories—pieces of a puzzle she hadn't known existed.
And in the center of it all, wrapped in cloth, was a sealed letter.
Xinyi unfolded it, her hands steady despite the hammering in her chest.
The words inside were simple.
But they changed everything.
...
Her Father's Last Warning
"If you are reading this, then I have failed."
"And if I have failed, that means they will come for you next."
"The curse was never just a burden—it was a debt."
"And debts must always be paid."
Xinyi folded the letter before reading further.
Not here. Not yet.
She trusted Ji Yao and Lin Zhou, but some things were not meant to be read under open skies, with too many ears nearby.
She rose to her feet. "We take everything with us. Lock up when we leave."
Ji Yao let out a low whistle, glancing at the chest. "I don't suppose we should be worried about what's in here?"
Xinyi's gaze was unreadable. "Worry about who else wants it."
For once, Ji Yao didn't joke.