HOÀN THÀNH
The Journey of the Missing Bronze Drum
The rain tapped on the tarpaulin roof covering the excavation pit in steady rhythms, sounding like someone tapping their fingers on the surface of a large drum somewhere in the darkness. Doanh pulled up the collar of his raincoat, shined his flashlight along the row of markers marking the dugouts, counted again for the third time that night: twelve, all. He was less than twenty-five years old, had only been with the Go Lang Uyen archaeological team for four months, and this was the first solo shift he had taken, because the main security guard had a fever and had to return to the commune clinic in the afternoon. The light stopped at the corrugated iron shack built specifically for them…
✓Nội dung đã được biên tập và kiểm duyệt chất lượng
DANH SÁCH CHƯƠNG
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