Chapter One: The Ninety-Nine-Yuan Case

When the seventeenth collection call arrived, Shen Zhiwei was painting the final gold line across a cracked Qianlong vase. “Miss Shen, if you don't pay eight hundred thousand yuan by midnight, the restoration studio goes to compulsory auction.” Her brush did not tremble. Gold settled into the fracture like a seam of captured lightning. “I understand.” After she hung up, her partner, Zhou Wanqing, pushed over a calculator. “We have thirty-two thousand. Even if you sell me, we're short seven hundred and sixty-eight thousand.” “You aren't worth that much.” “Thank you for authenticating me on my deathbed.” Zhiwei finally smiled. Her father had died after guaranteeing a friend's debt, but the debt had descended to her like an inheritance.