My dad died nineteen years ago.
Two days before Qingming Festival, he sent me a courier - a small urn. There was no dust in the box, and there was an old mobile phone that was fully charged.
There is only one recording on the phone, which was recorded on the rooftop of the 28th floor on the day my father died:
"Liangliang, don't let anyone on the list go..."
"The seventh name is——"
The recording was interrupted.
Of the list of seven people, the seventh one was covered in ink seven layers to death. The person who painted it has been painting it for seven years.
Wen Liang does not understand Jianghu. All he knew was that from the moment he opened the box, the chessboard was burned in the middle of the night, the grave was dug up, and the deck's black car was parked on the street.
Quantum mattresses, pig-killing trays, safe accounts... Behind every scam in the small town, the shadows of those seven names dangle.
What his father left him was not an old mobile phone. It is half of "Qianmenpu". And a game that took nineteen years to set up.
There are eight generals in Qianmen: Zheng, Ti, Fan, Tuo, Feng, Huo, Chu, and Yao.
In this game, gentleness took over.
