“The night was deep, and the clouds over the Loess Plateau hung like a heavy curtain, completely concealing the starlight and moonlight in darkness.

In the distance, the mountains stood like silent giants, coldly gazing down upon the earth. The entire village was as peaceful as ever, with only a solitary lamp flickering faintly in Li Yan’s room.

On the table lay a photograph, quiet and still. The ancient bronze mirror in the photo faintly shimmered under the dim light, as though it might emerge from the paper at any moment.

Li Yan’s gaze was fixed on the photograph, his heartbeat quickening as countless unsettling thoughts filled his mind.

The mirror in the photograph was identical to the one his father had tightly held in his hands the last time Li Yan saw him, fifteen years ago.

He picked up the photo, his fingers trembling slightly, and when his fingertips touched the mirror’s outline, he felt as if he had encountered a cold, distant force.

That summer night fifteen years ago, it was a stiflingly hot evening. Wind blew in from the mountains, dust hitting the windows, carrying an unsettling feeling in the air.

Li Yan’s father had returned from the mountains, his expression strange and tense, wrapping an item in a cloth stained with soil.

Li Yan remembered the look in his father’s eyes—a mixture of fanaticism and unease.

“Yan’er, this is a real treasure,” his father’s voice was low, as if he feared something might overhear. “A mirror from the Qin Dynasty; our family will prosper!”

Li Yan didn’t think much of it; after all, his father often brought home various so-called “treasures,” and the villagers even jokingly called him “Li the Mystic,” fascinated with ancient relics and detached from worldly affairs.

That night, his father examined the bronze mirror carefully by the oil lamp in the cave dwelling. The mirror, about the size of a bowl, was covered with strange inscriptions.

Under the faint light, the back of the mirror glowed with an eerie green hue.

When Li Yan’s father reflected the lamp’s light off the mirror, the inscriptions projected onto the wall, filling the cave with dense characters, as though they were emerging from the wall itself, creating an extremely eerie scene.

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Then, Li Yan heard a strange, low laugh from his father that made his skin crawl.

After that night, his father, along with the bronze mirror, mysteriously vanished, as if they had never existed.

Fifteen years had passed, and the disappearance of his father and the mirror remained an unsolved mystery, a permanent wound in Li Yan’s heart.

He had replayed that night countless times in his mind, hoping to find a clue, but found nothing.

Villagers said his father had meddled with something forbidden, inviting misfortune.

Rumors spread, and from then on, Li Yan and his mother relied on each other, his heart forever burdened by unanswered questions and an unyielding sense of injustice.

Fifteen years later, Li Yan had become an archaeologist, specializing in Qin Dynasty culture.

He had combed through every ancient text he could find, trying to unravel the secret of the bronze mirror and discover the truth behind his father’s disappearance, but the answers remained shrouded in darkness, like an elusive truth.

Returning home for the Spring Festival, Li Yan received an invitation letter from Lingtai County. The letter mentioned that an archaeological team had discovered some Qin-related artifacts at the site of the Mi Xu Kingdom.

Attached at the end of the letter was a photo from the archaeological site.

It was this photo that made Li Yan’s heart skip a beat—the bronze mirror was identical to the one his father had discovered fifteen years ago!

Li Yan’s breathing quickened as he clutched the photo tightly, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He could hardly believe it; the bronze mirror that had vanished fifteen years ago had reappeared.

That mirror felt like a doorway to the past, reconnecting him to the mystery of his father’s disappearance.

He knew this could not be a coincidence.

Li Yan stood up, opened a drawer, pulled out a backpack, and quickly packed his clothes.

The memory of his father’s disappearance surged over him like a tidal wave, the unresolved doubts and pains he had suppressed for so long tearing through his heart once more.

For fifteen years, he had been haunted by the same nightmare. The scene in his dream was always the same—a grand palace, a shadowy figure holding the bronze mirror, standing with his back to Li Yan.

Every time the figure was about to turn around, Li Yan would wake up, drenched in sweat, caught in an endless sense of oppression.

Even after all these years, he had never seen the person’s face, nor unraveled the truth of the dream.

The photograph before him felt like a sign from fate, igniting the deep-seated obsession within him.

“Are you really going, on the eve of the New Year?” his mother asked, her voice old and weary, as she entered from the courtyard.

Li Yan turned around and saw his mother standing in the kitchen doorway, her gaze complicated and tired. She seemed to understand his decision, as if she had known this day would come.

“Mom, the project starts tomorrow. I have to go,” Li Yan said softly.

His mother was silent for a moment, then entered the room, packed some freshly fried pastries into his bag, and looked up, reminding him, “Be safe out there.”

Li Yan nodded, and as he stepped out the door, the cold wind greeted him.

The dawn was rising in the distant sky, and the wind on the Loess Plateau continued to blow, carrying the dust and memories of history toward the distant mountains.

Li Yan knew that this excavation was not only for academic research; it held deeper secrets awaiting him.

And this was only the beginning.”