Scene: The Ruins of the Yè Ancestral Home
Dust floats in the morning air like fine ash, and the faint smell of burnt wood clings to the breeze.
The once-magnificent Yè ancestral home now stands in ruins — walls shattered, floor tiles cracked, paper doors torn and fluttering.
A faint humming sound breaks the silence.
A levitating silver drone scans the wreckage with pale blue light.
Beside it stands Ān Tián Qí, tablet in hand, glasses sliding down his nose.
> Ān Tián Qí: “Residual Arm energy.
Gold traces… but mixed with something else.”
Ān Shēn (kneeling by a fragment of stone): “Water Arm signatures too — faint, diluted.
But not ours.”
Ān Bái (snorts): “Figures.
ET dogs don’t clean up their mess.”
Ān Tián Qí (soft chuckle): “They never do.”
From a distance, Mù Xiāo Xiāo steps forward, purple parasol shading her from the light.
She doesn’t seem to blink — her pale gaze fixed on the debris.
Despite her ageless, porcelain face, her tone carries a strange childish rhythm.
> Mù Xiāo Xiāo: “The Earth remembers everything… even when people don’t.”
She crouches, presses her hand to the ground.
Cracks of faint green light pulse outward.
Then she sighs softly.
> Mù Xiāo Xiāo: “Too late.
They took what they came for.”
> Ān Bái: “You sure about that?
We could still—”
Ān Shēn: “Brother.” (stern look) “The soil’s undisturbed past this point.
They were efficient.”
Ān Bái: “Efficient?
You mean lucky.”
Ān Tián Qí’s drone hums higher, emitting a soft ping.
> Ān Tián Qí: “They accessed the vault beneath the west wing.
Looks like someone’s family secret’s out.”
Ān Bái (scoffs): “And we’re just standing here babysitting ruins.”