#oc2026
#oc2026
Xi’an, present day. A solar eclipse tears General Pei Zhenyu from the Heng dynasty into Lucy Bennett’s world. History calls him a traitor. Pei says history is lying. Stranded a thousand years from home, he must survive modern China while Lucy becomes his guide, investigator, and trusted canmou. Together they uncover a conspiracy buried beneath an empire’s official history—and learn that the past is not finished with them.







The sun had narrowed to a burning crescent above the southern gate. Darkness gathered over the avenue, swallowing colour from the crowd.
Beyond a screen of pale silk sat Emperor Shen Rui. Pei could not see his face.
He remembered the emperor as he had been before the crown: a serious young prince bent over military reports, covering their margins with questions. He remembered Shen Rui asking for truth when every courtier had offered flattery. And he remembered Shen Yao beneath the flowering pear trees in the western garden. She had listened while Pei reported the losses from the northern frontier. She had known the names of villages other members of the court considered too small to matter. Before dismissing him, she had thanked him for bringing his soldiers home. Then she had spoken his personal name. Only once. He had carried that small kindness through three winters of war.
Pei bowed toward the imperial pavilion. “I left the position entrusted to me,” he said. His voice travelled clearly across the darkening avenue. “I failed to protect Her Highness.” The executioner shifted behind him. Pei looked toward the screen concealing his emperor. “But I have never betrayed the throne.”
A murmur passed through the crowd. One of the disguised Black Crane soldiers lowered his head. Another clenched both hands at his sides.
The final edge of sunlight disappeared. Chang’an fell into darkness.
The bronze pendant burned against Pei’s skin. The old crack along its edge filled with a thin line of white light.
Temple bells, frightened horses, and thousands of human voices collapsed into one vast, shuddering sound. The executioner’s blade descended -
but it did not touch him. The platform vanished beneath Pei’s knees. For an instant, he remained suspended between the blow above him and a darkness that opened below. The rope around his wrists pulled taut. The bronze seal struck once against his chest, hot enough to stop his breath. Then Chang’an broke apart around him. The southern gate stretched into impossible height. Its timber beams became steel and glass, its tiled roofs dissolving into towers lit from within. The mourning banners fractured into a thousand bright rectangles held above unfamiliar faces. Pei fell through the darkened sun.