At 1:40 in the morning, the infrared alarm went off in the exhibition hall on the east side of the Provincial Museum.
I, a failed history student working the night shift, walked in carrying a glue stick.
The sword of King Gou Jian of Yue was targeted by thieves. The thieves used tools to cut open the showcase, and their fingers were about to touch the hilt of the sword.
I saw the sword light up on its own.
A green-gold light shot into my chest, and the killing energy from 2,500 years ago poured into my limbs. A cold female voice sounded in my mind:
"Get the sword. He has to leave something behind."
After that night, I saw the light in all cultural relics.
The cauldron is breathing, the statue is buzzing, and the sword is roaring.
They have been waiting for thousands of years, just for someone who can see them.
The state came to visit me and turned me, a temporary worker, into a secret correspondent.
They called me - the Guardian.
They focused on town objects all over China.
But they don't know that the person living in my Yue Wang Sword is a cold-faced imperial sister.
When the sword is unsheathed, it will drink blood.
