The cold winter night was thick in the air, the wind howling across the streets of Beijing. The lanterns of the old mansion flickered faintly as the two men approached the decaying structure. It had been abandoned for years, left to rot in time's embrace. The ancient house was a relic, now more a symbol of forgotten history than a living place.
Inside, the air was damp and stale, the dust settled thick upon the faded furniture. The house was as silent as a tomb, with only the faint echo of their footsteps and the occasional creak of wood. The walls, once grand with painted murals, now lay bare, their colors long faded, their stories swallowed by time.
"Well, here we are," said Shiao Zhen, his voice low and controlled. He turned toward Cheng Fusheng, whose curiosity seemed to be mounting with every step.
Cheng Fusheng's eyes flicked around, noting the antiquity of the place. "This house... it once belonged to your family, didn't it?"
Shiao Zhen nodded, but his expression was distant. "Yes, this was the heart of the Shiao family. My great-grandfather built this mansion, but after the upheaval of the past decades, it became nothing but a memory."
Cheng Fusheng felt a strange weight in the air, as though they were treading on hallowed ground. "It must have meant a lot to your family."
"It did. It still does, in ways I can't explain. This house holds the legacy of my ancestors," Shiao Zhen said softly, his eyes glazing over with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "But now, it's the place of secrets—secrets I must uncover if I'm to understand who I truly am."
Cheng Fusheng studied him carefully. He had been intrigued by the man from the very beginning, but the more he learned about Shiao Zhen, the more complex he became. He wasn't just a man on a mission. There was something buried deep within him, something more than just the inheritance of a family estate. Cheng had seen the way his eyes hardened when he spoke of the past, of his father. The weight of something old and unresolved lingered.
"I understand your desire to find what's lost," Cheng Fusheng said, his voice even. "But there's something else you're looking for, isn't there? More than just a treasure, more than just an artifact."
Shiao Zhen met his gaze, and for the first time that night, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "I'm looking for the truth. For answers. About my father. About this family. About the legacy we left behind."
"Your father…" Cheng Fusheng repeated the words slowly. He had learned enough about Shiao Zhen's father, Shiao Guodong, to know the man had been something of a legend. A patriarch of the Shiao family who had served as a key figure in both business and politics, but who had become a shadow of his former self in the years before his death. There were rumors of secrets buried with him, things only a few knew about.
"You don't have to tell me if it's too much," Cheng Fusheng said, his tone gentle. "But why are you carrying this burden alone?"
Shiao Zhen didn't answer immediately. He walked slowly towards a wall that had once been adorned with a portrait of his great-grandfather, but now was only an empty space. The frame lay shattered on the floor.
"My father… He was the head of the family. A man with influence, with power," Shiao Zhen began, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "But as his health declined, he became paranoid. He shut himself away from the family, from his own legacy. I couldn't understand why. Not until after his death."
Shiao Zhen paused, his fingers lightly brushing the edges of the shattered frame. His eyes were fixed on the empty space where the portrait had once hung, as though he was searching for something that wasn't there.
"My father was obsessed with the past," Shiao Zhen continued. "He spoke of things no one understood—artifacts, secrets, legacies that were meant to remain hidden. He believed that the key to the family's survival lay in discovering the truth behind the 'Bronze Dragon'—a myth he thought had been passed down through generations."
Cheng Fusheng furrowed his brow. "The 'Bronze Dragon'? You've mentioned this before. What exactly is it?"
"A symbol," Shiao Zhen said. "A symbol of power, of dominion over the land. The Bronze Dragon is not just an artifact; it represents an ancient lineage, an ancient force. My father was convinced that the Shiao family's wealth and influence had been built upon it, that we were tied to something older than China itself. He believed the artifact held the key to restoring our family to its rightful place in history."
Cheng Fusheng processed this information in silence, his mind working through the puzzle. He had always known that ancient families like the Shiao had ties to powerful legacies, but the idea of a "Bronze Dragon" was beyond anything he had imagined.
"But your father…" Cheng began cautiously, "If he believed so strongly in this, why didn't he share it with anyone? Why keep it hidden?"
Shiao Zhen's expression darkened. "Because he feared it would destroy us. The truth about the Bronze Dragon, about the legacy we were part of, was dangerous. He thought there were people out there who would stop at nothing to use it for their own purposes."
Cheng Fusheng thought about this. "You mean your father didn't want the truth to come out. But then why did he leave you this map? Why did he give you this task?"
Shiao Zhen turned to face him, his eyes intense. "Because my father believed I was the one who could finish what he started. He knew I would be the one to unlock the secrets he couldn't. But I didn't understand that until it was too late."
Cheng Fusheng stayed quiet for a moment, allowing the weight of Shiao Zhen's words to settle. The air between them was thick with history, with a burden neither man could avoid. Finally, Cheng spoke again, his voice softer.
"I've heard rumors about your family," Cheng Fusheng said carefully. "Your family's fall from grace... It was sudden. And no one really knows why."
Shiao Zhen stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "You know about that?"
"The whispers of the city," Cheng Fusheng said, his voice tinged with understanding. "The Shiao family once stood at the peak of power, but then, almost overnight, your influence seemed to vanish. The wealth, the political sway, all of it. People say it was because your father became obsessed with something, and in the end, it ruined everything."
Shiao Zhen clenched his fists. "It wasn't the obsession that ruined us," he said harshly. "It was the lies, the betrayals. There were people in the family, in the government, who couldn't allow us to have that power. My father's obsession only made him more isolated, more vulnerable."
Cheng Fusheng nodded, understanding now the deeper complexity of Shiao Zhen's quest. This wasn't just about a treasure—it was about redemption. About reclaiming not just wealth, but a legacy.
"Let's find it then," Cheng Fusheng said, his voice steady. "Let's uncover the truth your father couldn't."
Shiao Zhen met his gaze, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "You're certain about this? It's not just about finding an artifact. It's about confronting the past. And that past... might not be what you expect."
Cheng Fusheng nodded without hesitation. "I've already made up my mind."
The two men stood in the empty mansion, the silence of the house hanging heavily around them. They were on the edge of something great and dangerous, but neither was willing to turn back. The past, with all its secrets and lies, had finally come to find them. And the path ahead would be one neither could walk alone.