The morning sun bathed the park in soft light, birds chirping above as children ran through the grass. Lin Hao walked beside his mother, holding her hand as they followed their usual path.
Same bench. Same tree. Same routine.
But today, something was different.
He had wrapped the sculpture in a faded cloth, tied carefully and tucked under his shirt. Its weight rested against his chest like a heartbeat.
After digging a little near the tree to keep up the act, Lin Hao ran over, clutching the cloth with both hands, face lit up with childish excitement.
"Mom! I found something!"
She looked up from rocking his sister and smiled. "Oh really? Another treasure?"
"Yes! A real one this time!"
She laughed and patted his head. "Of course, sweetheart. Another treasure from our great explorer."
He grinned but said nothing more.
That evening, after his father returned from work and changed into fresh clothes, Lin Hao ran to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Dad! Dad! I found a treasure!"
His father raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Another one? What is it this time—more shiny rocks?"
"No! This one's real. We'll be rich!"
His father laughed. "Alright, show me your mighty treasure, young master. Let's see if we should retire early."
Lin Hao gently placed the bundle on the table and began to unfold the cloth.
When the last layer was peeled back, the room fell silent.
There, nestled on the old wood, was the sculpture: a curled dragon carved from obsidian and emerald crystal, its features so lifelike it seemed to breathe beneath the lamplight.
His father's eyes widened.
His mother covered her mouth with both hands.
Neither of them spoke.
It wasn't a toy. It wasn't a rock.
It was art.
Priceless art.
His father slowly reached out and touched the sculpture with trembling fingers.
"Where did you find this…?"
His voice was barely a whisper.
"In the park," Lin Hao said innocently. "Buried. I was playing pirate."
His mother looked to her husband, panic and awe flashing in her eyes. "It looks… it looks valuable. Very valuable."
"I know," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the dragon. "This could be worth a fortune."
"But what do we do? We can't just… keep it. If someone finds out—"
"They'll take it," his mother whispered. "Or worse."
Lin Hao sat quietly, watching them argue in hushed voices. He understood their fear. A treasure like this, in the wrong place, in the hands of the weak—was more curse than blessing.
He waited until they paused, then looked up.
"Mom, Dad… did you like it?"
They turned to him, surprised.
He smiled. "I think a museum would like it too. I saw one in a magazine last week. They collect beautiful things like this. Maybe we could take it there."
His father blinked.
"A museum?"
His mother nodded slowly. "Maybe… maybe that's safer. If we donate it or sell it to someone who protects those kinds of things…"
Lin Hao watched as they whispered to each other, their tension shifting into cautious hope.
And inside, he smiled.
The museum he spoke of wasn't just any museum.
In his past life, it was run by a retired cultivator known only as Master Yuan—an old man who collected ancient relics, not for power, but out of love for history. Though wealthy beyond measure, he lived humbly. Even cleaned the floors of his own museum every morning in plain robes.
And he was the one who had purchased this sculpture before the world collapsed.
Lin Hao had no doubt he would recognize its value again.
And this time, the money wouldn't be wasted.
It would save his family.
It would build his foundation.
And maybe—just maybe—it would change the future.