Chapter 124: The Bronze Mask

Perhaps it was Zhang Qinglin’s intrusion that had infuriated that person; the piano music grew increasingly erratic, stirring a frantic, unbearable agitation in Zhang Qinglin’s heart. His pulse hammered wildly as he rushed toward the piano behind him.

Seeing someone suddenly seated on the bench that had been empty moments before, Zhang Qinglin lunged forward and grabbed the figure’s shoulders. He could feel that the person’s hands were not touching the keys, yet the stark black-and-white keys were dancing frantically on their own.

At that moment, as Zhang Qinglin stared at the keys, he caught a reflection on the polished surface above them—a blurred, grotesque human face. As the features sharpened, Zhang Qinglin froze in horror.

The person on the bench rose with lightning speed. Before Zhang Qinglin could react, a pair of hands clamped tightly around his throat. Zhang Qinglin’s eyes widened in terror, fixed upon the bronze mask that looked even more menacing in the eerie green light as it drew closer. The mask filled his vision, growing larger and larger until the suffocating grip took hold and his world plunged into darkness.

He could hear nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the thundering of his heart.

"Ugh... cough, cough!"

Zhang Qinglin gasped, his eyes snapping open. He sat up, clutching his throat and coughing uncontrollably. Looking around the room, he realized that everything he had just experienced was merely a dream.

But then, the sound of the piano began again, sending a jolt of dread through his heart. The piano again? Could there really be someone else here? Driven by this thought, Zhang Qinglin pulled open the door and stepped out.

The hallway was shrouded in darkness. The piano music was faint, audible only within the room, and seemed to be drifting down from the floor above. Zhang Qinglin followed the sound until he reached the door to the eastern room.

The chaotic notes eventually coalesced into a melody—soft, yet strangely exhilarating.

Zhang Qinglin looked at the double doors; they had no handles. He pushed, and they swung open to reveal another door beyond. It was a suite. But the sight that met his eyes caused him to frown in shock.

Along the dim, yellowish walls of the corridor, strange, distorted human faces were painted. Their hollow eyes seemed utterly devoid of soul. Zhang Qinglin scanned them one by one, discovering a common feature: all the faces had eyes that looked identical—stereoscopic, almost lifelike, and bearing a chilling resemblance to the eyes on the bronze mask. They were all painted in the exact same shade.

By now, he had reached the end of the corridor. The piano music was emanating from the door behind him—a room located directly above the one Bai Weiwei had assigned to him.

Zhang Qinglin pushed the door open and entered. The lights were on. The room was in disarray, with books scattered haphazardly across the floor and graffiti scrawled all over the white walls. In the center of a pile of books stood a large stone pedestal, and upon it, Zhang Qinglin saw the bronze mask.

The mask sat inside a glass container, its hideous visage aimed directly at him. Zhang Qinglin stared, dumbfounded, for the soul-stirring music was coming from the mask itself.

He leaned in to inspect it: a wide mouth, oversized ears that extended at an exaggerated angle, and a square hole in the center of the forehead, inlaid with a red stone.

"We meet again, Mr. Zhang."

A familiar voice echoed through the room.

Zhang Qinglin looked up, his guard instantly raised. A man with unkempt hair, dressed in gray pajamas, stood before him with a faint, thin smile.

The man looked familiar. Zhang Qinglin studied him for a moment, his eyes flickering with sudden realization. "Young Master Zhao?!"

The man walked closer and pressed a black button on the side of the stone pedestal. The piano music cut off abruptly.

"What are you doing here?" Zhang Qinglin demanded, his gaze locked on him before he scanned the room warily.

Without his suit, Young Master Zhao seemed like a different person. He glanced at the bronze mask and said to Zhang Qinglin, "The 'Shor-Yobang' Sonata. Its sound can resonate with the soul. How about it? Not bad, right? Don't be nervous. You are a guest invited by Bai Weiwei, which makes you a guest of my house. One should treat guests like friends. Let me introduce myself: I am Zhao Chu."

"Your house? What is your relationship with her?" Zhang Qinglin asked, bewildered. He recalled that Zhao Chu had been at the mining site as well, and the two of them had even argued when the emergency occurred in the mine.

"That is unimportant. Let’s talk about what matters. I know the map and notebook you gave to Wu Daoyi were fakes. The real 'Eight Steeds of Shangtang' painting and the notebook are still in your possession. Actually, we could cooperate," Zhao Chu said, adjusting his posture and resting his hand on the glass above the mask as he watched Zhang Qinglin.

"Cooperate? How?"

"The map hidden within the 'Eight Steeds of Shangtang' is one half of the 'Apocalypse Map.' The map was split in two and hidden within two separate works of art. One is the 'Eight Steeds of Shangtang,' and the other is the 'Xiahe Society Map.' The 'Apocalypse Map' is a layout of Emperor Gaozong of Tang’s mausoleum. It is rumored that the tomb contains priceless treasures and untold wealth. I have the 'Xiahe Society Map' in my possession; all I need is yours. If you are willing, we can split the treasure we find."

"Do you think I would believe you?" Zhang Qinglin challenged, eyeing him with suspicion. "Isn't this the same trick you've played on others? You finish the job and then eliminate the partner. You call that cooperation?"

Zhao Chu stood straight, adopting a composed demeanor. "Cooperation with Mr. Zhang requires keeping one's word. How could this be compared to those others? I think you should consider it carefully."

"And if I refuse to cooperate?"

"Then I cannot guarantee that your friends will return to Beijing in one piece," Zhao Chu said calmly.

"What do you mean? Explain yourself."

"Your good brothers nearly died in the Wei River. It was I who pulled them out," Zhao Chu said, his gaze burning like a torch.