novelraw Chapter 103 Relic
Chapter 103 Relic
On the computer screen, the production credits scrolled upward from bottom to top, all of them members of the Donghai University film club.
At the very end of the credits, the name of the chief director floated into view.
Xu Yan.
After that, the screen went black, and the logo of [Donghai University Film Club] drifted onto the screen. The progress bar reached the end of the video and froze there.
Jiang Ran leaned back in his computer chair, thoughtful.
Finished watching.
How should he put it… maybe because he had written the script himself and even acted in it, so he knew every detail by heart…
It just felt so-so.
“Pretty average.”
Jiang Ran commented:“But as a student film festival entry, the quality should count as excellent. You can’t exactly compare it to a Hollywood movie.”
“Still… it’s really hard to believe that a piece at this level would be bought by a film company for the insane price of twelve million.”
“And they even made everyone sign confidentiality agreements without hesitation.”
Since returning home, Jiang Ran had already thought about this for a long time.
The more he thought about it,
the stranger it felt.
The more he thought about it,
the more suspicious it seemed.
No matter how he looked at it, this wildly unequal transaction far exceeded anything reasonable.
“Why exactly…?”
He narrowed his eyes.
“What reason could there be for that film company and that big-name director to be this cautious—almost crazy about it?”
“Could it be…”
After turning the matter over again and again, he could only think of one possibility:
[Could it be that, by sheer coincidence, my script accidentally wrote something it shouldn’t have… revealed something that wasn’t meant to be revealed?]
The idea sounded absurd.
But aside from that, Jiang Ran couldn’t think of any explanation for the sky-high “hush money” offered by the film company.
Yes.
He didn’t believe that the twelve million, along with the promised big-company job offers and startup investments for every film club member, counted as “payment.”
It felt more like hush money.
[Someone is trying to use this no-expense-spared hush money to cover up certain secrets, hide certain information, and eliminate the possibility of leaks.]
And honestly—
thinking along that line, the logic began to make more and more sense.
The microfilm Prodigy’s Playground involved too many people during production.
Just within the Donghai University film club alone, nearly a hundred people had participated.
In modern society, expecting one hundred people to keep a secret—
to seal one hundred mouths—
was nearly impossible.
The best solution was to come up with a perfectly reasonable excuse, then bind it together with shared benefits so that those hundred people would willingly keep the secret themselves.
“Using a confidentiality agreement for an unreleased film as a cover… that’s actually a very clever method.”
Still…
was it really necessary?
Jiang Ran scratched his head.
That script—
and the original prototype for the script, the Setting Collection he had scribbled in middle school—
were nothing more than the aimless fantasies of adolescence.
Many of the settings didn’t hold up under scrutiny.
Some even contradicted each other.
Could childish nonsense like that possibly threaten someone’s interests?
Or collide with someone’s secrets?
Could it be that in this world…
there really existed a phone capable of granting any wish, or a diary that could travel through time?
“Come on.”
Jiang Ran laughed at his own thoughts.
If you told him that time travel could be achieved using advanced physical equipment—
that he could believe.
For example, a Positron Cannon.
Or a spacetime shuttle he had yet to see.
At least those belonged to the realm of science.
But a diary enabling time travel?
That was just the premise of the foreign movie The Butterfly Effect. When he wrote his middle-school Setting Collection, Jiang Ran had simply borrowed ideas freely, copying bits from everywhere like a shameless plagiarist.
A supernatural diary like that could never exist in real life.
If someone actually believed that reading a diary could send them through time, they might as well believe in the Death Note too—the kind where writing a person’s name kills them.
He shook his head, abandoning that dark conspiracy line of thinking.
Maybe he was just overthinking.
Maybe after some time passed, the film project for Prodigy’s Playground would be officially registered, then move into script revisions, casting, forming a production crew, wrapping filming, theatrical release, massive profits, and sequels.
Anyway, he had already received full payment.
Everything that came afterward…
had nothing to do with him.
He took out his phone.
Opened his banking app.
Looking at that long string of numbers—twelve million Dragon Country yuan—was simply pleasing to the eye.
“So now that I’m a multi-millionaire again… what should I do?”
After some thought,
Jiang Ran decided to buy something for his parents.
For his mom—some gold jewelry or jade ornaments. She liked those.
For his dad—buy him a car. The one Jiang’s father currently drove was already ten years old, very worn out, and constantly breaking down.
He opened WeChat and called Wang Hao.
“Hello? What’s up, bro?”
Wang Hao answered instantly.
“I’ve got an exam tomorrow. I’m making cheat sheets right now, so don’t distract me.”
“You’re still taking exams?”
Jiang Ran complained.
“I’ve already been home for a week on vacation and you’re still testing.”
“Hey! That’s how crappy junior colleges are!”
Wang Hao cursed.
“Damn it, every year we start vacation late and start school early. This lousy school is definitely just trying to squeeze more tuition out of us!”
“Anyway spit it out already. I just got into the groove making these cheat sheets. I even bought the thinnest pen possible. My handwriting’s like ants crawling across the page—I won’t even be able to read it later!”
Alright then.
Jiang Ran went straight to the point.
“That microfilm I wrote the script for Xu Yan? It won an award at the University Student Film Festival. But it wasn’t made public, because a film company bought the script. I got a share of the copyright fee.”
“The confidentiality agreement only covers the script content. Basic facts like the transaction itself are fine to mention as long as I don’t reveal the microfilm’s content.”
“So I want to buy my dad a car. I figured you know a lot about cars, so I wanted your advice.”
“Holy crap!”
Wang Hao sounded shocked.
“You got rich, bro! Then wait for me! I haven’t even started my internship at a 4S dealership yet—why rush to buy a car now?”
“Listen to me. Save the money first. When I start my internship as a sales rep at a 4S dealership next semester, buy one through me. That first sale might be the lucky break that gets me hired full-time!”
Jiang Ran switched the phone to his other hand.
“This car’s for my dad. I finally came home for vacation, so I’ll just buy it now.”
“If you really start working at a 4S dealership later, I’ll definitely support you. I’ll buy another car through you then. Worst case I’ll just drive it myself—I’ve got a license anyway.”
“Stop talking nonsense and recommend something already. What kind of car do you think someone my dad’s age should get?”
“Get a Wenjie.”
Wang Hao clearly knew his stuff.
“The ultimate favorite of middle-aged men. Add a triple-fold phone and you’ve unlocked the full middle-aged-dad prestige package. Instant respect everywhere.”
“If you’ve got a lot of money, get the M9. If not, M8 or M7 works too. For men your dad’s age, blindly buying Huawei products is always the right move.”
“Okay.”
Jiang Ran didn’t know much about cars, so he trusted Wang Hao’s judgment.
“Then that’s settled.”
The next day, Jiang Ran contacted several dealers and went to a 4S dealership that had the car in stock and could deliver it immediately.
“Swipe the card.”
Beep—
One swipe of the card, and the Wenjie M9 was his.
Being rich really did feel good.
He completed the temporary license plate paperwork and drove the car home, sending Wang Hao a photo.
The reaction was immediate shock.
A call came in.
“You bought it just like that?! That was fast!”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Tomorrow I’m taking the high-speed rail home. Pick me up at the station with the car, alright? I’ve got a lot of stuff.”
“OK.”
After hanging up, Jiang Ran drove around aimlessly for a while, then decided to visit Cheng Mengxue’s house.
Except…
it wasn’t Cheng Mengxue’s house anymore.
After their only daughter died, Cheng Mengxue’s parents had moved far away—to the United States. The house had already been sold.
Jiang Ran had no intention of judging their decision.
Even if leaving the country might ease the pain of losing their daughter…
unless you have lived someone else’s suffering, you cannot truly understand it.
He drove to the residential complex where Cheng Mengxue had lived.
Her house had been on the ground floor, with a small yard enclosed by a low wall.
In childhood memories, Jiang Ran and Cheng Mengxue had often played there together.
Now, standing outside the wall and looking at the completely different layout inside, he suddenly understood the meaning of an old poem:
“The scene remains, but the people are gone; everything comes to rest. Words fail, and tears fall first.”
A poem by Li Qingzhao.
During this summer vacation, Jiang Ran really wanted to uncover the truth behind Cheng Mengxue’s car accident.
But he didn’t know where to start.
At that moment, a woman walked out of the house carrying a watering can, preparing to water the flowers.
Seeing Jiang Ran, she tilted her head in confusion.
“Can I help you?”
Jiang Ran shook his head.
“The people who used to live here were my childhood neighbors. Their daughter was a good friend of mine.”
“Oh, I see.”
The woman relaxed.
“I heard… their daughter died in a car accident, and the couple moved to the United States. We bought the house from them.”
“We’ve lived here for about two years now. They were in a hurry to sell, so the price was much lower than market value. I happened to have a child who needed school enrollment, so we bought it.”
Jiang Ran stepped closer to the wall.
“Have you had any contact with them since?”
“No.”
The woman looked annoyed.
“They left in such a hurry that many things weren’t properly handled afterward. Later we couldn’t reach them by phone, and they never replied on WeChat either. It gave my husband and me a huge headache.”
“That family was really irresponsible. In the end we had to use connections to finish a lot of paperwork ourselves, otherwise my kid wouldn’t even have been able to use the school enrollment tied to this address.”
Jiang Ran nodded silently.
This didn’t match his impression of Cheng Mengxue’s parents.
Her uncle and aunt had always been kind people.
Responsible, too.
Otherwise they wouldn’t have raised a girl as upright and principled as Cheng Mengxue.
If they truly had become as careless as the woman described…
then the only explanation was that losing their only daughter had devastated them.
“Oh, right—do you know any of their relatives?”
the woman suddenly asked.
“I know one.”
Jiang Ran immediately thought of Xu Yan.
“That’s perfect then. Could you help me with something?”
The woman set down the watering can and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Wait a moment.”
She walked toward the yard’s tool shed and returned carrying a square iron box about the size of a basketball.
The iron box was rusted and covered in peeling paint, long stripped of its original color. It clearly had been buried for many years.
She placed it on the wall and clapped the dust from her hands.
“About a month ago, I dug out the pomegranate tree in the yard to plant flowers. While loosening the soil, I dug up this iron box.”
“I shook it, and there seems to be something inside. But it has a combination lock, so I can’t open it.”
“I don’t know whether what’s inside is valuable or not, and I don’t dare throw it away. What if the former owners come looking for it someday?”
“Could you help pass this iron box to their relatives? Let them decide what to do with it. Either way, it won’t have anything to do with us anymore.”
Jiang Ran picked up the rusted iron box.
It was much lighter than expected.
Inside, something seemed to clink faintly—perhaps glass.
“Alright.”
He agreed.
Clearly, the woman regarded the box as a hot potato—or maybe just unrecyclable junk.
But she didn’t want to risk responsibility, so she was eager to get rid of it.
He had no choice but to accept it.
And besides…
Jiang Ran was genuinely curious about what was inside.
Had Cheng Mengxue buried it?
Most likely.
But she had never mentioned such a box to him, so Jiang Ran wasn’t completely certain.
Driving his brand-new car home, Jiang Ran carried the iron box upstairs, entered his bedroom, and placed it on his desk.
He tried to open it, only to find it completely locked.
Sure enough, there was a combination lock on the front.
The rotating number wheels were packed with dirt and wouldn’t budge.
“Looks like a safe.”
Mentioning safes reminded him of a novel Wang Hao once complained about.
Wang Hao had said reading that book nearly drove him insane.
Could you imagine?
A safe that appeared in the very first chapter—
didn’t get opened until the very last chapter of the novel, at 2.83 million words.
“What kind of idiot writes a novel like that?!”
That night at a barbecue stand, Wang Hao had cursed furiously.
“No wonder it flopped! The whole internet was roasting it!”
Yet the story’s fate turned out to be dramatic.
After surviving a rough early period, the novel later skyrocketed in popularity.
“Actually, overall it’s pretty good. Quite enjoyable.”
After calming down, Wang Hao had offered a more objective evaluation.
“At least it was worth the monthly votes I gave it.”
Jiang Ran stared silently at the combination safe before him.
“I don’t have that kind of patience.”
he muttered.
Then he stood up, went to the balcony, and brought in his father’s toolbox.
He found a flathead screwdriver and a hammer.
Bang! Bang!
Clang! Clang!
Thud! Thud!
Crash.
After a session of destructive dismantling,
the password-protected safe that had been sealed for years—
opened with a snap.