"I need to explain something," my grandfather said. From this sentence, you could tell that my grandfather's mind was very clear. "What I’m leaving behind isn’t much, but some of it should have some value. You three brothers can divide it among yourselves. I don’t trust the children of other families, but you three are the ones I trust the most."

My father nodded, and my grandfather continued, "After I die, I must be cremated within two hours."

This request was a bit strange, but at that moment, no one could go against the old man. My father had no choice but to nod again. "During the cremation, you must make sure that within thirty meters of the cremation furnace, there is no one around. No one is allowed to look inside the furnace." My grandfather went on.

This condition was also agreed to, but after my grandfather finished speaking, everyone in the family was puzzled. We waited quietly, hoping he would explain, or at least continue.

However, after the old man finished, he said nothing more. His eyes didn’t close; he just looked at us.

Grandpa passed away that very night. My Father was a devoted son and did everything according to Grandpa's wishes. When we went to the funeral home, we were in a hurry and spent a lot of money just to cut in line. Since it was considered a happy passing, there wasn’t too much grief. Only during the cremation, all of us were blocked outside by Father and his brothers, and we were only allowed in after the ashes were brought out.

So, although everyone found it strange, in the end, no one ever knew the reason for those requests Grandpa made.

Because of my personality, I didn’t take any action to get to the bottom of it, and gradually, I forgot about it. Looking back now, in fact, all the signs of what was about to happen were already everywhere at that time. If you’re not involved, you really know nothing; but once you’re in, just a moment’s reflection reveals clues everywhere.

After Grandpa passed away, my Dad inherited some property, all of which were fairly legitimate businesses. My Dad had worked in geology all his life and knew nothing about antiques or curios, so the shop was left neglected. Later, when he saw that I had nothing to do after graduating from college, he simply handed it all over to me to manage.

The shop’s decline was related to my Dad's personality. I was young and ambitious, so after taking over, I decided to reform it, to make it bigger and better. I found a childhood friend, and the two of us started making development plans, going everywhere to collect good items. As a result, we made four bad investments in a row, sinking all the shop’s working capital and my friend’s savings. My friend, desperate, went tomb-robbing with a cousin and ended up in jail. I didn’t dare tell my parents that the shop was out of money. Fortunately, we owned half the storefront, so I only needed to pay rent and utilities for the other half. I originally wanted to give up the other half (and eventually did), but then I thought, when Grandpa was around, this was the size of the shop; even though my Dad wasn’t great, at least the shop didn’t shrink. Now that it was in my hands, if I cut it in half, I’d definitely get scolded by my Dad.

So I could only grit my teeth and carry on, living especially hard. In the antiques business, it’s common to get rich or go broke overnight, but you must have working capital; otherwise, you might as well sell tea eggs. Thanks to Grandpa's reputation at the time, every month there were always a few people who came because of his name. I used Grandpa's name to bluff, and there was always some income. Later, I met that guy named Edward Carter.

Edward Carter also came to my shop because of Grandpa. He brought a Warring States silk manuscript, hoping to have Grandpa authenticate it. My earliest understanding of Grandpa's exploits was that, decades ago, he robbed a blood corpse tomb at night, and in the end, Grandpa produced a bloodstained Warring States silk manuscript. In that incident, Grandpa's Grandpa, Father, and Brother all died. I was a bit wary of this thing, but the poor business made me have evil thoughts about his Warring States silk manuscript. I secretly photographed it, planning to make a fake to sell, but unexpectedly discovered that this silk manuscript was actually a map of an ancient tomb.

I don’t know if it was tomb-robbing genes or just desperation, but somehow, I ended up participating in that tomb-robbing operation. During that tomb raid, I met William Bolton for the first time.

The story after that is extremely complicated, enough to fill a million words. William Bolton and I also became friends (whether we were truly friends, thinking back now, I feel a bit sad). Gradually, I realized that this William Bolton, like my Grandpa, also seemed to be carrying a secret that absolutely could not be spoken. Moreover, I discovered that what William Bolton was carrying seemed to be intricately connected to what my Grandpa was carrying.

I had no choice but to start investigating him, and soon I was shocked to find that this William Bolton had been connected to my family since Grandpa's generation. In some of Grandpa and my Uncle's activities, this person had appeared as a stranger.

He had interacted with three generations of my family, and the most terrifying thing was, even though my Grandpa had been dead for many years, he was still alive, at the same age as me.

Although I believe he means me no harm, still, who exactly is this person? What is his purpose? Was it our The Clark Family that stumbled into his mystery, or has he always been circling around our The Clark Family? No one knows.

He and my Grandpa both carry a secret—are they the same secret?

I have no idea.