Chapter Five: The Shortest Route, the Loudest Slap

Public opinion reversed again. The foundation gave him six hours to produce originals whose paper and pigment could be dated. Otherwise, he would be disqualified and sued for ten million. “They are forcing you into the competition,” Qi Xia said. “Then I go in.” Lin started a stream. “But my way.” Zhou closed his eyes to find the shortest route to the drawings. His expression turned strange. “They are moving. Twelve kilometers away, heading for the museum.” The three climbed onto the old electric scooter Zhou had wheeled out of Qixia Street. Daylight sealed the main roads. Every navigation app failed at once, as though the city itself wanted to send them the wrong way. Zhou never looked at maps.