The moment the bright light erupted, Chen Mo cursed the bronze pendant eighty times in his heart—he had only drunk half his milk tea, and hadn't even had time to celebrate the elderly Zhou Hong's arrest before this lousy pendant started acting up again?!
But the expected time-travel vortex didn't appear. The blue light flickered three times and then went out, and the bronze pendant returned to calm, only the spiral patterns on its surface becoming clearer.
"What the hell? Is this a prank?" Chen Mo stood dumbfounded, still clutching his unfinished milk tea. "So this pendant is here to remind me 'there's still work to do'?"
Prosecutor Li and the police were also startled by the bright light, gathering around one after another: "Mr. Chen, are you okay? What was that light just now?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Chen Mo laughed it off, quickly stuffing the bronze pendant back into his pocket. He couldn't exactly say this thing was a "time-travel repeater" that might throw him into another era to suffer.
When the elderly Zhou Hong was escorted onto the police car, he was still roaring: "Impossible! How could you be alive? This bronze pendant is clearly mine!"
Chen Mo leaned on the police car window, making a face at him: "Old fox, times have changed! In the 1980s, you could cover the sky with your connections, but in modern society, with conclusive evidence, even gods can't save you!"
Zhou Hong trembled with anger, being pressed into the car. The moment the window closed, Chen Mo clearly saw the unwillingness and fear in his eyes—the despair of an evildoer finally facing justice after years of crime.
In the following days, Chen Mo became a "celebrity" in the judicial authorities. Cultural relic experts gathered around the bronze pendant and replication instrument to study them endlessly; journalists chased him for interviews about his "time-travel adventure"; even the museum sent an invitation, wanting him to be a "special consultant for cultural relic protection."
"No thanks to the consultant position," Chen Mo declined politely. "I'm afraid if I stay in the museum any longer, some weird cultural relic will send me time-traveling again." He just wanted to enjoy modern life in peace—drink milk tea, eat hot pot, catch up on sleep, and make up for all the hardships he endured in the 1980s.
But his peaceful days didn't last long. Prosecutor Li came to him: "Chen Mo, we need your help. An encrypted safe was found in the basement of Zhou Hong's villa—we can't open it. It might contain more important evidence, such as the complete list of cultural relics he smuggled and detailed records of how he framed you back then."
"An encrypted safe?" Chen Mo perked up. "That old fox from the 1980s knows how to use modern encryption technology?"
"It's not modern technology—it's a mechanical combination lock, seemingly designed by Zhou Hong himself. There are some strange patterns carved on it, similar to those on the bronze pendant," Prosecutor Li took out a photo.
Chen Mo looked closely—the patterns on the safe were indeed part of the spiral patterns on the bronze pendant. It seemed the old fox had used the bronze pendant as a "codebook."
"That's easy!" Chen Mo patted his chest. "I know the code—come with me!"
When they arrived at the basement of Zhou Hong's villa, Chen Mo looked at the rusty safe and took a deep breath. He recalled the order in which Zhou Hong's fingers had traced the patterns when he showed off the bronze pendant before the execution in the 1980s.
"The pattern on the bronze pendant is three clockwise turns, two counterclockwise turns, then one clockwise turn. The corresponding numbers should be 3, 2, 1," Chen Mo said, turning the combination lock. With a "click," the safe opened.
Inside was a yellowed account book and a "confession letter" written by Zhou Hong—not a sincere confession, but a record of how he used power and connections to smuggle cultural relics step by step, frame Chen Mo, and bribe witnesses.
"Wow, this old fox actually kept something like this. Did he want to be remembered after death, or was he afraid he'd forget how many people he hurt?" Chen Mo flipped through the account book, muttering in complaint.
The list of cultural relics recorded in the account book completely matched what Chen Mo had written down in the 1980s, and even included some "fish that slipped through the net" he didn't know about. Based on the list, the police recovered more than a dozen precious cultural relics that had been lost overseas, including the authentic Han Dynasty jade pendant that the old craftsman had sacrificed his life to protect.
"Old craftsman, did you see that? The authentic relic is back, and Zhou Hong is under arrest. Your wish has been fulfilled," Chen Mo held the jade pendant, feeling emotional.
On the day of the trial, Chen Mo testified as a key witness. He wore a clean shirt, holding the account book, photos, and bronze pendant, detailing Zhou Hong's crimes one by one.
"Defendant Zhou Hong, between 1985 and 2025, used a replication instrument to make fakes, replacing a total of 58 national first-class cultural relics. He smuggled them overseas, making profits of hundreds of millions of yuan. He also falsely accused and framed others, nearly costing them their lives. The evidence is conclusive, and the criminal facts are clear," the prosecutor's voice was resounding.
The elderly Zhou Hong sat in the defendant's dock, his hair gray and his face haggard, no longer the arrogant man he once was. He looked at Chen Mo, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something, but finally lowered his head.
The judge struck the gavel: "Defendant Zhou Hong is guilty of smuggling national precious cultural relics, false accusation and framing, bribery, and other crimes. Combining the crimes, he is sentenced to life imprisonment, deprived of political rights for life, and confiscated of all property!"
After the trial, Chen Mo walked out of the court, with the sun shining warmly on him. Prosecutor Li walked over, patting him on the shoulder: "Thank you, Chen Mo. Without you, this cross-four-decade cultural relic smuggling case might never have come to light."
"You're welcome—I just did what I should do," Chen Mo smiled. "Protecting national treasures is the responsibility of every citizen."
He took out his phone, sent a red envelope to the old photo studio owner, and ordered another full-sugar pearl milk tea. This time, he didn't drink it in a hurry, but walked slowly, watching the busy traffic and high-rise buildings on the street—this was his familiar modern life, stable and peaceful, without conspiracies or life-threatening crises.
When he got home, Chen Mo placed the bronze pendant on his desk. The pendant no longer glowed, just lying there quietly, as if it had fulfilled its mission. He looked at the pendant, thinking of Captain Wang, Sister Zhao, and the old craftsman from the 1980s, recalling those thrilling days, his heart filled with mixed emotions.
"Thank you all, and thank you this bronze pendant," Chen Mo said softly. "Although the time-traveling days were unlucky, if it weren't for this experience, I might never have known how important it is to protect national treasures and how worthy it is to uphold justice."
Just then, his phone rang—it was the museum calling: "Mr. Chen, we want to hold a commendation ceremony for you, and also exhibit the evidence you provided and the recovered cultural relics, so that more people can understand the importance of cultural relic protection."
Chen Mo thought for a moment and agreed: "Sure, but I have one condition—can you reserve a spot for my milk tea during the exhibition? As a memorial to the 'time-travel hero'."
The staff on the other end couldn't help laughing: "No problem, Mr. Chen. We will definitely satisfy you!"
On the day of the commendation ceremony, Chen Mo drank milk tea while standing in the exhibition hall, looking at the recovered cultural relics, feeling a great sense of accomplishment. Tourists around gathered around the exhibits, listening to the commentator talk about the "cross-time manhunt spanning forty years," exclaiming from time to time.
A little boy pulled his mother's hand, pointing at the bronze pendant and asking: "Mom, can this pendant really travel through time and space?"
The mother smiled and said: "I don't know, but it witnessed justice—it's a hero pendant."
Chen Mo heard this, feeling warm in his heart. He knew this bronze pendant was not only a time-travel medium, but also a symbol of justice—no matter how many eras it spanned, no matter how many difficulties it faced, justice would always prevail.
After the ceremony, Chen Mo declined all media interviews, slung his bag over his shoulder, held his unfinished milk tea, and slowly walked out of the museum. He didn't want to be a hero or be remembered; he just wanted to be an ordinary person, enjoying his life to the fullest.
When he reached the museum gate, he turned back for one last look. The sun shone through the glass curtain wall onto the exhibits, sparkling. Chen Mo smiled, then turned and walked into the crowd.
As for the bronze pendant, he donated it to the museum, attaching a note: "Time and space are limited, but justice is infinite. May all national treasures be well treated, and all evil be severely punished."
That night, Chen Mo lay on the sofa, eating hot pot while watching TV, with his favorite variety show playing on his phone in a loop. He picked up his milk tea, took a big sip, and sighed contentedly: "Modern life is the best—hot pot to eat, milk tea to drink, no old foxes, no time-travel crises. Perfect!"
Just as he thought everything was over, a news push suddenly popped up on his phone lying on the coffee table: "Archaeologists discover a Han Dynasty tomb in Jiangsu Province. A bronze pendant unearthed from the tomb has patterns highly similar to the 'Time-Space Justice Pendant'..."
Chen Mo sprayed out a mouthful of milk tea: "No way—again?!"
He looked at the photo of the bronze pendant in the news, almost identical to the one he donated, except the patterns were more complete, glowing faintly green.
"Are these lousy pendants mass-produced?" Chen Mo looked desperate, but couldn't help feeling curious. "A Han Dynasty tomb? Could there be more secrets yet to be uncovered?"
Curiosity finally overwhelmed fear. Chen Mo picked up his phone, searched for information about the ancient tomb, his eyes growing brighter and brighter.
"Maybe this time I can find out the true origin of the bronze pendant?" he muttered, opening the ticket-booking app.
A new adventure seemed to be about to begin.