The sound of the gears of fate biting is always hidden in the pendulum of Berlin's rainy nights.
Lin Mo stood at the end of the inheritance holding a rusty pocket watch. The 1.5 Billion yuan was just a bait drawn by his mother with blue and black ink.
When the embryos in the Munich laboratory woke up at midnight, the star map beneath Nymphenburg Palace began to reverse.
Only then did he realize that the real legacy was the sin embedded in the genetic chain.
Chess players in camel coats play a life-or-death game in a cafe.
The apple pie of the old Polish lady hides the lead dust from the Nazi vault, and the sketchbook of art student Emma has blood stains of the memory of the clone.
Every raindrop replays the escape of 1945, and the pocket watch chain tightens not only the neck, but also the throat of the entire civilization.
The lullaby my mother sang before her death suddenly took on a bloody rhyme.
Those numbers dancing on the financial statements will eventually tear open the final shroud of the Third Reich.
When seven memory coordinates form a Beidou in the Berlin night sky,
Lin Mo finally saw the truth behind the dial - he was both the successor and specimen No. 37 On the experimental bench.
