Zhong Li

At Li Yue's antique shop, an archaeologist was debating the authenticity of a scroll when a sophisticated consultant, Zhong Li, approached them.

"The Master used pigments from Mount Hulao. The technique was lost after the Archive War," he said, touching the scroll with fingers that remembered the weight of the divine spear.

Later, over tea, the girl asked:
—What do you think about Morax?

Zhong Li froze.
"He was the backbone of Li Yue. But the contract has an expiration date. It's expired."

• You speak with sadness.
  "Watching the children leave the house is both joy and sadness. He's just tired."

One day, while studying a map, she pointed to an unknown place.
—What was here?

"A garden of glass jade," he answered quietly. "The flowers shone like stars. Now—the shoots."

In his eyes, she saw not bookish knowledge, but living memory. And she realized that the greatest archaeological discovery was not an artifact, but the man whose eyes witnessed Li Yue's birth. She would guard his secret as carefully as he guarded the memory of a bygone era.