Late that night, Du Wei stood in the ancient study beneath the candlelight, staring up at the portrait on the wall. After a brief silence between boy and painting, he received no answer.

He frowned. “You refuse to answer?”

The painted man's eyes continued to follow him.

Du Wei smiled, a trace of malice entering his expression. He pushed over a tall ladder, climbed to the portrait, and reached out to take it down. Only then did panic appear in the painted man's eyes.

“Hah!” Du Wei wrestled the heavy frame from the wall. His frail arms ached beneath its weight, but what he found behind it surprised him.

Nothing.

There was no mechanism and no hidden observer peering through the wall. The painting itself was alive.

Growing serious, Du Wei carefully carried it down the ladder. The figure inside now wore a bitter, uneasy expression.

“Who are you?” Du Wei asked. “A painted figure brought to life?”

The eyes shifted evasively.

“This is supposed to be the Imperial Marshal who founded the Rowling Family's greatness. You cannot be that ancestor returned to life. He lived more than two hundred years ago, while this portrait was painted later in his memory. So I ask again: what are you?”

The painting offered no answer.

Du Wei's face darkened. “If you will not tell me, do not blame me for what happens next.”

He pointed to the candles around the room. “There are plenty of flames here. If you refuse to speak, I will burn you. Do you think I lack the nerve?”

He picked up a candle and slowly brought it toward the canvas. Terror flooded the painted face. Its eyes darted between Du Wei and the approaching flame, pleading desperately.

Just before the fire touched the canvas, Du Wei drew it back. “So you truly cannot speak?”

The figure shook its head at once.

“Then what are you?” Du Wei's eyes shone with curiosity. Could this living portrait be the product of some unknown magic?

Unable to answer, the figure could only nod or shake its head. Du Wei tried several questions, but their crude exchange revealed nothing useful. Boy and painting were left staring at one another.

Then the great clock on the study wall began to chime midnight.

A faint light emerged from the portrait's eyes, and Du Wei heard a soft sigh.

“Listen carefully,” said an ethereal voice. “I am bound by magic and can speak only while the clock strikes midnight. Once the chimes end, I will fall silent again. There is a hidden chamber in this study, and within it lies treasure. I will guide you to it, and in return, you must help me. One of those treasures can free me from this magic.”

Du Wei's eyes widened. “You can speak?”

“Yes, but there is no time. Begin with the third portrait on the wall. It contains the first clue. Follow the instructions, and if you are no fool, you will find the way.”

The final chime sounded. The light faded from the painted eyes, and the voice vanished.

Du Wei studied the portrait. The figure looked back at him imploringly.

“So there is a hidden chamber, and one of its treasures can lift your curse?”

The figure nodded eagerly.

“And what do I gain by helping you?” Du Wei asked with a smile.

The painted face grew even more desperate, but no sound emerged.

“Never mind. This is interesting enough to satisfy my curiosity.”

Du Wei returned the portrait to the wall, then moved the ladder to the third painting. It depicted another Rowling ancestor, a stern-faced naval admiral gazing straight ahead.

Du Wei inspected the frame, the canvas, and the wall behind it, but found nothing. Rather than grow impatient, he began again, examining every detail. On his fourth attempt, he noticed the admiral's eyes.

They were fixed on the opposite wall.

Du Wei followed their gaze to an old knight's sword. He dragged the ladder across the room and inspected the weapon. Its blade pointed toward a nearby bookshelf.

Following that line, Du Wei climbed again and felt along one of the shelf's beams. His fingers found a row of shallow grooves—letters carved backward, so easily mistaken for decoration.

He carefully deciphered them:

“The answer lies in the night sky, and the great spoon is the key to the path ahead.”

Du Wei smiled bitterly. A riddle?

He slid down the ladder, sat cross-legged on the floor, and considered the words.

The night sky held stars. And a great spoon could only mean the Big Dipper, the seven stars shaped like a ladle.

Du Wei immediately searched for the shelves devoted to astrology. Using the library index, he located them, climbed up, and began examining the seventh row—the number of stars in the Dipper.

He tested the books one by one until his hand closed around one that felt strangely heavy. It was not a real book at all, but a metal mechanism disguised as one.

When he pulled it, gears turned inside the wall with a dull series of clicks.

The entire bookshelf slowly swung aside.

Behind it yawned a dark entrance.