Rain pours down as the Taihang Mountains loom in the night like a colossal beast lying in wait. Zhang Tian huddles in a leaky mud-brick house, listening to the rafters creak, his heart filled with despair. Ever since his father fell ill, the family’s savings have been drained and their debts have piled up. Now they cannot even afford rice.
“When will this life ever get better?” Zhang Tian murmurs, gazing at his grandfather’s old photograph on the wall. The old man in the picture wears a long gown and has deep-set eyes that convey an indescribable authority. When his grandfather was alive, the family had managed to get by. But after he died unexpectedly, it was as if the sky had fallen, and things had gone from bad to worse.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning splits the night sky, illuminating the room. In its flash, Zhang Tian spots a dusty blue-and-white porcelain vase in the corner. It is the only thing his grandfather left behind. When Zhang Tian was a child, his grandfather always warned him never to touch it. But now, with nowhere else to turn, Zhang Tian finds himself drawn to the vase as if by some strange force.
He reaches out to wipe the dust from it, and his finger accidentally touches a raised pattern on its surface. At that moment, something bizarre happens. A click comes from the bottom of the vase, and a hidden compartment slowly opens, revealing an antique wooden box inside.
