Lin Zhe is dead. He died on a Ming Dynasty armchair in his study room, his wrists slit and killed with a knife. The police said it was suicide, but he just called me three days ago and asked me to keep an eye on the chair. I am Zhou Fang, he saved my life. At the funeral, a man in gray gave me a brass key. The label read: 17-09-23. She knew it. I followed the key and found a diary. When I opened the first page, Lin Zhe wrote: "On the seventh day of the transaction, the first person she sent was successful." The signer was Shen Man, Lin Zhe's wife, who had died three years ago. A room full of fake antiques, a cup of still-warm coffee, eyes open in the crack of the closet door... There is someone in this villa who doesn't want me to investigate further. But I must know the truth. Because my name appeared on the last page of the diary
