The automatic door slid open, and Xia Songluo stepped into the law firm.
A female receptionist at the front desk smiled and rose to her feet: "Welcome. How can I help you?"
Xia Songluo walked up: "Hello, I'd like to see Lawyer Jin."
The receptionist scrolled through her records. "Lawyer Jin Dewen? Do you have an appointment?"
Xia Songluo shook her head. "No, Lawyer Jin. Lawyer Jin Zhan."
The receptionist paused for a moment. "Which company are you representing?"
Their boss had been on a roll these past couple of years, taking on mostly commercial disputes between corporations. The people who came to the firm for meetings were usually company executives.
But the young woman in front of her looked to be in her early twenties—high ponytail, hoodie, athletic pants, and a double-strap tennis backpack with a little plush toy dangling from it.
Based on appearances, she was probably a college student, or a recent graduate.
Could she be here applying for a job?
The receptionist smiled and extended her hand, signaling for a business card.
Xia Songluo reached into her hoodie pocket and actually pulled out a card, handing it over with both hands: "My father wanted to consult Lawyer Jin about something. He's abroad right now and asked me to meet with Lawyer Jin first."
Before coming to the firm, she'd taken He Qi's advice and stopped by a nearby office building to grab her father's business card.
As the receptionist took the card, she noticed a wide Cartier Love bracelet studded with diamonds on Xia Songluo's right wrist and a Vacheron Constantin "Lovers' Bridge" watch on her left. She realized she had misjudged her.
She looked at the card: Xia Zhengchen, Chief Technology Officer of Yunrun Technology.
The receptionist's eyes lit up. Yunrun was one of the city's top tech companies, of course she knew it: "Oh, so you're—"
"Miss Xia." A male voice suddenly cut in.
A young man with slicked-back hair strode quickly out of the firm's office area.
He stepped forward and extended his hand.
Xia Songluo shook it.
"I'm Lawyer Jin's assistant. Just call me Xiao Chen." Assistant Chen didn't wait for her to speak. "Lawyer Jin asked me to tell you that the Yunrun matter is beyond his capabilities. He can't handle it. Please find someone more qualified."
The receptionist looked surprised. That didn't sound like something their boss would say.
It almost sounded like he had a personal grudge against Yunrun Technology and didn't want to take their case.
She'd never heard anything like that.
"How does Lawyer Jin know who I am?" Xia Songluo glanced up at the surveillance camera in the corner. When she'd handed over the card, she hadn't mentioned her father's name, and neither had the receptionist—yet Jin Zhan knew she went by Xia, and knew which company her father worked for.
Xia Songluo stared straight at the camera. "He knows why I'm here? Those pigeons—are they all his?"
The receptionist gave her a bewildered look.
Assistant Chen, on the other hand, touched the Bluetooth earpiece in his right ear, paused for a beat, then said to the receptionist: "Could you see Miss Xia out, please?"
"No need." Xia Songluo didn't press the matter. "I'm just a messenger. When my father gets back, he can come talk to Lawyer Jin himself."
She turned and walked out of the firm, pulling out her phone, fully intending to report what had happened.
Earlier, she'd had no leads at all, and telling her father—who was at a conference in the US—would only have worried him for nothing.
But now that she seemed to have found the "suspect" who'd been watching her, and a legal hotshot who rubbed shoulders with the rich and powerful no less, it was worth telling her dad.
She found the number and was about to dial when a thought suddenly struck Xia Songluo.
Wait.
If those pigeons were Jin Zhan's, why had they attacked him outside the courthouse that afternoon?
Before she could work it out, Assistant Chen came running out after her: "Miss Xia!"
Xia Songluo turned around, phone still in hand.
Assistant Chen was out of breath, pointing at the third floor of the small townhouse behind them: "Lawyer Jin asks you to come upstairs."
...
The firm had plenty of meeting rooms, but Xia Songluo was taken directly to Jin Zhan's office.
The decor and furnishings felt straight out of a luxury hotel.
When Xia Songluo pushed open the door, all she smelled was money.
Jin Zhan, dressed in expensive bespoke tailoring, stood with his back to the door, posing like a fashion model in front of the floor-to-ceiling window—not moving, not speaking.
Xia Songluo walked over to the sofa and sat down. She pulled out her phone, put in one earbud, and started playing a restaurant-management game called "Shawarma Legend."
With its catchy theme song "Shawarma oh Shawarma," it was maddeningly addictive—just what she needed to calm her nerves.
Almost ten minutes of silence passed.
Jin Zhan spoke, still facing away: "Miss Xia went to the trouble of lying to see me, and now that you're here, you won't say a word?"
Xia Songluo sank deeper into the sofa, playing as she said: "I hear Lawyer Jin is best at picking his moments in court. You don't strike me as the type to be so fickle—refusing to see me one minute, then rushing to call me back the next."
Jin Zhan chuckled: "And so?"
Xia Songluo said: "Right now you're wavering. You're torn. That means whatever we discuss won't go smoothly. I don't like beating around the bush. Once you've made up your mind, we can talk. I can wait."
Jin Zhan finally turned to face her: "Funny. I hate small talk too. The reason I was hesitating to see you is that I was afraid you wouldn't be smart enough to understand me, and I'd be wasting my time. But the fact that you found me, and can speak like this—it tells me you're much sharper than the background check suggested."
Xia Songluo frowned and glanced up at him.
Now she understood why He Qi had gone from fan to hater. With that pretty, sculpted face, you'd never guess he could be so insufferable the moment he opened his mouth.
"Not convinced, Miss Xia?" Jin Zhan walked back behind his desk and settled into his chair.
He tapped a folder on the desk. "Your father graduated from a top international university—the best of the best. He became CTO of Yunrun at thirty. You, on the other hand, have been held back a grade since elementary school. You've never once passed math. You didn't even get into a community college, refused to repeat the exam, wouldn't go abroad to polish your résumé, and to this day you're still at home doing nothing."
Xia Songluo's fingers trembled slightly. She put down her phone: "Lawyer Jin, do you really think getting into college has anything to do with intelligence?"
Jin Zhan shrugged: "I don't, but if you'd never doubted your own intelligence, why would you secretly get a paternity test? It drove your father so mad he almost ended up on oxygen in the hospital."
He pulled a photocopy from the folder. The conclusion read: "Confirmed biological father-daughter relationship."
The depth of the background check had crossed the line for Xia Songluo.
She rose from the sofa and walked quickly to the desk.
"Whack!"
She slapped the paper out of Jin Zhan's hand and slammed it down on the desk, staring straight into his eyes: "Are these your pigeons? Are you the one watching me? What exactly are you after?"
"You mean the pigeons that have been circling you lately?" After a tense stare-down, Jin Zhan averted his gaze and looked down at the back of his hand, where three weeping scratches were already visible. "The pigeons were all provoked by it. I was the one it scratched up."
About fifty feet away, there stood a plane tree.
From the third floor of the firm, the crown of the tree was perfectly in view.
Perched on the branches was a pigeon with golden feathers, facing directly toward Jin Zhan's office.
It was watching him.
The distance was a bit far, and the pigeon was small, so Xia Songluo couldn't see it clearly: "You were standing by the window the whole time—were you actually looking at it? What exactly is it?"
Jin Zhan curved his lips: "It's my father."
Xia Songluo was taken aback.
Jin Zhan spread his hands: "I only recently found out that I'm a pigeon spirit. It wanted to take me back to the Pigeon Forest to inherit its throne. But I didn't want to give up the wealth and glory of the human world, so it attacked me."
Xia Songluo's pupils contracted, and her lips moved slightly: "You..."
She slowly withdrew her hand from the table and took two steps back, as if she were afraid he might suddenly transform.
He found it unbelievable: "It was a joke, and you actually believed it?"
Xia Songluo pressed her lips together and stayed silent, staring at him fixedly, her gaze still wary.
If it had been a week ago, she definitely wouldn't have believed it, but after being watched by that pigeon, she had started to harbor some doubts about the world around her.
Xia Songluo ventured a reply: "I think sometimes, a lot of truths are often told in the form of jokes."
"Miss Xia is willing to believe such fairy tales—how wonderful." Jin Zhan genuinely sighed in relief, took off his suit jacket, tossed it aside casually, loosened his tie, and leaned back.
This sudden ease caught Xia Songluo off guard.
"Sit." Jin Zhan gestured for her to sit, then opened a drawer and took out an object, throwing it onto the table with a clatter: "Do you recognize this thing?"
It looked like a bronze artifact, shaped like a section of bamboo, rolling across the table and spinning several times before coming to a stop.
One end had a lid, and when opened, it could presumably hold small items—but at the seam, three cyan feathers were pasted, sealing the lid shut like wax.
Xia Songluo reached out to touch it, but just before her fingers made contact, she paused and looked at Jin Zhan.
Jin Zhan nodded: "It's fine, you can pick it up and take a look."
Carefully, Xia Songluo lifted the bronze bamboo tube.
It felt cold to the touch and had considerable weight.
Looking closely, the surface of the tube was densely covered with strange characters, not a single one of which she could read.
"What is this?" Xia Songluo had a good memory and was certain she had never seen it before.
She felt uneasy: "It's not a cultural relic, is it?"
Shouldn't it be sitting in a museum display case rather than in this law office?
Jin Zhan said: "Don't worry, I know the law better than you do. This is a family heirloom letter tube."
"Letter tube?" Xia Songluo thought about it—it made sense. A slender tube like this would be too small to hold water in ancient times, but just right for storing rolled-up items like animal hides or paper.
Jin Zhan tapped his finger on the table: "Miss Xia, though you may not have a high level of education, you should have heard this saying: In every trade, there's a master."
"What are you trying to say?" Xia Songluo's attention was still on the letter tube, and she didn't find Jin Zhan's remark particularly strange.
Pigeons include carrier pigeons, and now he had brought out a letter tube—there was probably a connection.
Then Jin Zhan said: "What I want to tell you is that this saying actually has a second part. In every trade, there's a master; among the Twelve Odd Trades, each one shows its own skill. And my family belongs to the Letter Keepers, one of the Twelve."
Xia Songluo blinked, set down the bronze letter tube, pulled out her phone, and ran a quick search.
"Twelve Odd Trades" returned nothing, but "Letter Keepers" did have an encyclopedia entry, referring to people who delivered messages in ancient times—messengers, couriers.
Probably not the "Letter Keepers" he meant.
"Don't doubt it. That's right, it's the very same kind of letter carrier you searched for." Jin Zhan glanced out the window: "In ancient times, my ancestors served as post station couriers for the government, riding fast horses on eight-hundred-li urgent deliveries. Nowadays, my parents work as mail carriers in the mountainous regions of Yunnan and Guizhou, riding motorcycles over hills and rivers to deliver letters and packages."
If it weren't for fear that Xia Songluo might not understand and it would affect her decision later, Jin Zhan wouldn't have mentioned his background at all.
Whatever "Twelve Odd Trades" was, in his view, it was just his parents gilding their profession.
Plainly put, they were people who ran errands and delivered letters.
And it was a trade that, with the rise of modern communication, was on the verge of being completely replaced by technology.
Their only "special skill" was the bronze letter tube they held.
Ever since he was a child, Jin Zhan had heard his grandmother say that whenever someone came to their door holding a "cyan feather stamp," they were obligated to write and deliver a letter for that person.
Once the letter was written, stuffed into the bronze letter tube, and the feather stamp brought by the sender was affixed, the letter could be sent to the past, the present, or the future.
Sending to the "present" usually meant the sender wanted to find a lost friend or relative.
The cost was one feather stamp.
The Letter Keeper had to search in person.
It wasn't exactly looking for a needle in a haystack—as long as the recipient's name, occupation, and birth details were written on the tube, the family's carrier pigeon would lead the way.
Even if only bones remained, there was hope of finding their burial place, unless the remains had been ground to ashes and scattered.
Letters sent to the "past" or the "future" were more troublesome, requiring three feather stamps and subject to strict restrictions.
Jin Zhan observed her expression: "Miss Xia, do you understand?"
Xia Songluo had tried her best to understand, but this was even more abstract than Jin Zhan being a pigeon spirit who had to return to the Pigeon Forest to inherit a throne.
No wonder Jin Zhan had questioned her intelligence earlier.
Xia Songluo thought for a long time, then pointed at the feathers sealing the tube's mouth: "What you're saying is, if I have one of these feather stamps, I could come to you and ask you to write a letter for me, to send to an elementary school classmate I've long lost contact with, and you could help me find her. Provided I know her name and birthday?"
Jin Zhan nodded: "In theory, yes."
Xia Songluo gave another example: "And if I had three feather stamps, I could make a copy of last year's college entrance exam paper, stuff it into your bronze letter tube, and send it to myself before the exam last year, so I'd know the questions in advance?"
Jin Zhan shook his head: "No. What gets transmitted has to be written by us Letter Keepers in our special script."
Xia Songluo said: "Then just translate the exam paper into your special script. Problem solved, isn't it?"
The corner of Jin Zhan's mouth twitched: "No, that's forbidden. Even if I wrote it, this letter wouldn't be sent."
Xia Songluo was curious: "Forbidden by what?"
Jin Zhan shook his head: "I don't know. I only know it involves too much—it could alter too many people's fates. That letter definitely wouldn't go through."
Xia Songluo asked again: "What about the winning lottery numbers from the last draw?"
She expected that to be forbidden too, but instead, a hesitant look crossed Jin Zhan's face.
Jin Zhan said: "That, I can't be sure about. But you're understanding me correctly—this bronze letter tube in your hand can indeed transmit information across time and space."
It was just that the frequency was extremely low, as fewer and fewer feather stamps circulated in the world. Getting even one was a matter of fate, let alone gathering three.
Xia Songluo gazed at the tube in her hand, eyes shimmering: "Lawyer Jin, what kind of treasure are these feather stamps exactly? Where can I collect them?"
Jin Zhan gave the same answer: "I don't know, because I have absolutely no interest in being a Letter Keeper."
Xia Songluo couldn't comprehend it: "No interest? Don't you find it amazing?"
Amazing enough to be exhilarating.
"It might seem amazing to you, but what's in it for us couriers?” Jin Zhan sneered. "No charge, pure volunteer work—tell me, what do I get out of it? A pat on the back saying I'm a good guy?"
Couriers were forbidden from using the letter cylinder for personal reasons.
Even more forbidden was demanding money from either the sender or the recipient.
Growing up, his family had been dirt poor, crammed into a crumbling tile-roofed shack that leaked when it rained, wearing clothes patched a hundred times over, eating rotten vegetable leaves meant for pigs. His parents had begged their way through life while still delivering letters for people, never taking a single cent, insisting it was a family tradition.
Jin Zhan wouldn't dare utter a word of criticism against his ancestors or his parents, but he himself had no desire to stay in this line of work.
At nine years old, he'd visited the county town once, and he never wanted to go back to that desolate mountain village.
He studied relentlessly, got into a prestigious university, and clawed his way up through life. Without any family connections, he'd slowly gained a foothold in this sprawling metropolis—how much effort that had taken, only he knew.
Jin Zhan had originally wanted to bring his parents to the city, but they refused to come, insisting on staying in the countryside, climbing over mountains and valleys as mail carriers.
Instead, they'd sent him the letter cylinder, saying they were getting old, and since he'd established himself, it was time to pass the torch to him.
Along with it came the family's golden-feathered carrier pigeon.
Jin Zhan's attitude toward his parents had always been one of not understanding but respecting—he hadn't refused them.
So what if the letter cylinder was in his hands? The frequency of delivering letters wasn't high anyway, and even if someone actually showed up with a feather postage stamp, couldn't he just refuse to admit he was a courier?
But what he didn't know was that his family wasn't the only courier clan in the world, and the bronze letter cylinder wasn't the only one of its kind.
Moreover, someone had actually managed to collect three feather postage stamps and written a letter capable of crossing the river of time.
That letter had been shoved into their cylinder by other couriers.
After the feather postage stamps were affixed, it had somehow appeared in Jin Zhan's cylinder.
That was when he learned that letters sent across time would be delivered to the cylinder nearest the recipient.
And he was the unlucky bastard closest to this particular recipient.
Even so, Jin Zhan still wanted nothing to do with it, but that damn pigeon kept franticly urging him on, driving him to the brink of insanity.
Jin Zhan explained all this while grinding his teeth.
Xia Songluo seemed to understand, clutching the letter cylinder tightly. “The pigeon circled around me, and you're telling me all this—so I'm the recipient of this letter, right?”
The seal had three feather postage stamps on it. It should be a letter from her future self, written to her present self.
Could it really be tomorrow's winning lottery numbers?
“You're not the recipient.” Jin Zhan pointed at the text on the cylinder's body. “This letter is addressed to a man named Jiang Hang, twenty-six years old, a police officer.”
Xia Songluo was momentarily stunned. “Then why are you looking for me?”
Jin Zhan sighed helplessly. “I can't find him, so I had to come to you, because you're the sender—and Jiang Hang's girlfriend.”
Xia Songluo was bewildered, pointing at herself. “Me? I sent a letter to Jiang Hang? He's my boyfriend? Who is Jiang Hang? I don't know him.”
She was twenty-one this year, and Jiang Hang was five years older, so he couldn't be a classmate of hers either. “Is it written on the outside of the cylinder? Besides personal information, does it also state the relationship between me and the recipient?”
“Anyway, I'm guessing this letter must have been a mistake.” Jin Zhan stood up with a solemn air, his tone turning serious. “Since you're the sender, I'm now formally returning this letter to you. All you have to do is tear open the seal, and my task is done—and the pigeon won't bother you anymore.”
Xia Songluo's mind was a tangle of confusion, still trying to figure out who Jiang Hang was.
She was just about to tear open the seal to see what was inside when—
“Bang!”
A sudden thud against the glass window.
It was that golden pigeon, slamming headfirst into the pane.
Xia Songluo immediately stopped, eyeing Jin Zhan with suspicion. “This seal—can only Jiang Hang tear it? If I tear it, even though I'm the sender, whatever's inside the cylinder will be destroyed? And the three feather postage stamps my future self worked so hard to collect would just be wasted?”
Judging by Jin Zhan's expression, she was right.
She'd almost been tricked.
Xia Songluo couldn't help but feel annoyed, handing the cylinder back. “Sorry, I refuse your returned letter. Lawyer Jin, I'm very curious about what's in this letter. As long as Jiang Hang is still alive, I'd ask you to muster your professional spirit and find him. Thank you.”
Jin Zhan said nothing, his face turning ashen, wishing he could grab a shotgun and blow that blasted bird on the other side of the window to bits.
