Chapter Three: Confession Does Not Mean Lightness

“My secret,” the old man said. “And your entrance fee. Look whenever you like.” At the door, he glanced back. “There is one piece of freight no one in Linlan can move. An old, empty suitcase. The owner’s field carries your name.” The door shut. Lin’s digital watch stopped. Its face read 3:17, and the date changed to one day before the birthday on his certificate. Across the city, in an underground warehouse, an empty suitcase gave a long wooden groan. It sank another inch into the floor.