Lin Yan transmigrated into a novel about ancient architecture, becoming a cultural heritage engineer with the same name.
The moment she took over this body, she found herself blocked at the entrance to a century-old residence. An excavator's bucket hung above a Qing dynasty brick carving, frozen in midair.
The original owner had left half a notebook. The title page bore just one sentence: The secrets of old houses are hidden in the wood.
Before she could examine it closely, she discovered she could hear every living thing inside the old residence.
The calico cat on the beam told her someone had hollowed out the west wall. The fresh plaster was less than three days old, and only a single outer layer of brick remained to support it. The pigeons on the eaves said three people had come last night, carrying a sledgehammer through the back door. Their vehicle bore the Dingsheng logo. A rat poked its head out from the foot of the wall and said there was an iron box ten feet underground. The Zhao family had been looking for it for thirty years without success.
The Zhao family of Dingsheng Real Estate had made their fortune over three generations through shady means. The Chen Family Courtyard was the last evidence repository they had yet to demolish. Lin Yan turned to the final page of the notebook. It contained just seven words: Huguang Guildhall, beneath the stage beam.
The secret the Zhao family wanted buried was exactly what she meant to dig up.
