Chapter 4

Funeral music resounded throughout the cemetery.

It was a cloudy day, and the cold northern wind brought winter back to Liyun Town. Lin Jingzhe stood in front of the familiar stone tablet in a thin coat, his whole body freezing. In his previous life, he visited this grave every year.

Time, place, people present—everything was the same. If there was anything different, it was him: he wasn’t a timid child who didn’t know which way to go anymore. His past yearnings no longer clouded his sight.

Now, he could see his aunt Jiang Xiaoyun and uncle Jiang Zhi shouted themselves hoarse, lamenting with grieving faces, but their eyes were dry. The same scene viewed through the prism of twenty jaded years appeared quite different.

His gaze swept over the crowd. Just like in his past life, his mother, Jiang Qiaqia, didn’t come.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d suffered from some kind of insanity in his previous life. If he hadn’t, then why would he ever think a woman who didn’t bother attending her own father’s funeral, who had loved and doted on her since childhood, would be a good mother?

Lin Jingzhe knew a bit about Jiang Qiaqia’s situation. She married her second husband, Qi Qing, almost days after her divorce from Lin Runsheng, Lin Jingzhe’s father, and currently lived in Qunnan City, the capital of Qunnan Province. She and her husband started a real estate company, called “Qiqing Real Estate,” but it was small and not very profitable.

However, Lin Jingzhe knew this situation changed not long after.

Six years later, Qiqing Real Estate merged with Zhixiao Real Estate, a well-established enterprise in Liyun Town, and changed the name to “Qijiang Group.” Later, Qijiang Group firmly sat on the throne of real estate business as the leading company in Qunnan Province.

Zhixiao Real Estate was co-founded by Lin Jingzhe’s aunt and uncle, who later became major shareholders of Qijiang Group. Well, weren’t they impressive? Even the Party Secretary of Liyun Town had to reckon with them.

Were villains punished for their evil deeds? No, in real life, they were rewarded for them.

Fortunately, this had not yet happened—now, these insidious, despicable, and unscrupulous people still hadn’t acquired wealth or power.

Aunt Jiang Xiaoyun and uncle Jiang Zhi were still preparing to grab the antiques. Jiang Qiaqia, the future vice-president of Qijiang Group who after her success wouldn’t even spare a glance at Lin Jingzhe, was still just an ordinary woman trying to get rid of all traces of her previous marriage.

Qi Qing, Jiang Qiaqia’s second husband, looked like a refined, scholarly man, but in reality, he was a male chauvinist with a feudal way of thinking. His family had some prestige in the capital and thought themselves above ordinary people. Since the beginning, they were dissatisfied with the fact Jiang Qiaqia had already married once.

To gain a firm foothold in her husband’s family, she spared no effort, and it included cutting off contact with her own family.

Lin Jingzhe, in his previous life, was persuaded to move to Qunnan City, but spent only half a year there, hidden like a thief. Then, “because of his father’s strong demand,” Jiang Qiaqia made him drop out of college and sent him to Yan City.

At the time, Lin Jingzhe believed her, so after arriving in Yan City, he was hostile towards his father, who he did not remember. He had no idea that less than a year later, the mother who said to him, “You’re the only child I’ll ever have,” happily gave birth to the “fruit of love” she truly looked forward to.

Lin Jingzhe woke from his memories. He accepted the key to the antiques’ warehouse officially handed over by a notary and a lawyer. Before they left, he took a look inside.

It was a small room with cabinets on three walls. There, carefully arranged and labeled, was his Grandpa’s treasured collection. Unfortunately, it was wasted on Lin Jingzhe, who knew nothing about antiques and lacked interest in them. He only knew that every piece in this warehouse was extremely valuable and closely related to the fate of people he loathed.

Lin Jingzhe narrowed his beautiful, double-lidded eyes. He turned around, his traditional clothes swishing, and said, “Thank you, you can go now.”

From today, Lin Jingzhe was the only owner of both the warehouse and the house. The hired workers were tidying up the room downstairs serving as the mourning hall. The funeral already ended but, curiously, Jiang Xiaoyun and Jiang Zhi had yet to leave.

They sat in the living room near the landline telephone, nervously looking toward the antiques’ warehouse.

When they saw Lin Jingzhe appear, their eyes lit up. Jiang Xiaoyun, holding the receiver, vigorously waved her free hand at him. “Come here, Jingzhe, guess who’s calling?”

Lin Jingzhe did not move. He raised his head and looked down at her expressionlessly.

His stare made Jiang Xiaoyun’s scalp tingle, and she thought he really was a scourge. She managed to maintain an expression of pleasant surprise though, and said, “It’s your mother!”

Lin Jingzhe slowly walked toward her.

Jiang Xiaoyun cursed him silently, but a feeling of triumph appeared in her heart. She watched the little bastard grow up, after all—how could she not know what would bring him to heel? He might look indifferent on the surface, but motherless children always secretly longed for their mothers.

For Jiang Qiaqia, this newly reestablished relationship with her siblings was a godsend. After all, getting a connection with someone from the Provincial Bureau of Land and Resources wasn’t easy—but just a bit of sand that spilled from their fingers was like flakes of gold for real estate companies, enough to tide them over for more than a year. Qiqing Real Estate was established not long ago and was in dire need of support to develop. If she could get help in this critical period, then surely…

More importantly, once she demonstrated she had such vital connections, her position both in the family and company was bound to rise.

This cooperation was incredibly tempting, though it had its advantages and disadvantages for both sides. However, the next round of land division in Qunnan City would start soon, and there wasn’t much time to convince Lin Jingzhe to hand over the bronzeware. The three siblings decided that Jiang Qiaqia and Jiang Xiaoyun would combine forces to keep Lin Jinzhe in control so he wouldn’t make a fuss, and Jiang Zhi would wait for the opportunity to directly take the antiques away.

As long as Lin Jingzhe didn’t pursue the matter, there was no danger. While they weren’t underestimating their opponent, what ability could an eighteen-year-old boy, born and bred in a rural town, have? He probably didn’t even know how much that pile of antiques was worth. After they had them, even if he was unhappy, passing him some benefits would calm him down.

Jiang Xiaoyun watched Lin Jingzhe, already imagining the great future after their plans’ success.

The teenager stopped in front of her and reached out his hand for the receiver.

His aunt eagerly handed it over.

Lin Jingzhe glanced at her, took the receiver, and slowly raised it. Then, under her impatient gaze, he—

Slammed it down.

He didn’t answer the phone but hung up.

“Ah—”

As if they stabbed by a needle, Jiang Xiaoyun and Jiang Zhi jumped and exclaimed in unison.

Shocked, Jiang Xiaoyun shouted, “Didn’t you hear me? That was your mother! Your mother! She called you!!!”

The phone rang as if to coordinate with her scream.

His aunt rushed to pick it up, but Lin Jingzhe moved faster and directly pulled out the phone line.

The silence was restored. The sister and brother stared at the phone then at each other, at a loss. Lin Jingzhe set it on the side table, then looked at them. There was no temperature in his eyes. “Uncle, aunt, it’s getting late. You should go back.”

Jiang Xiaoyun stared at Lin Jingzhe as if the teenager had suddenly grown three heads.

Even after they left, neither could understand why Lin Jingzhe’s reaction was so different from their expectations.

That evening, Lin Jingzhe sent away the hired workers and cleaned the room again. He carefully set up the altar for his grandfather and lit three joss sticks as a sign of respect. He then connected the phone line and waited for ten minutes, but Jiang Qiaqia did not call again.

He sneered—it was as he expected. Following a memory from his past life, he dialed a certain number.

In his previous life, Lin Jingzhe worked in Yan City and cooperated with several local institutions. Many hadn’t changed locations for decades, and it was likely their phone numbers hadn’t changed either. Sure enough, after the phone rang four times, someone answered it.

It was past working hours, and the voice of the person on duty was listless: {Hello, you’ve reached the National Museum. How can I help you?}

“Hello, I’m a resident of Liyun Town in Qunnan Province. I’d like to donate some cultural relics to your museum.”

The phone was silent for a moment—it was probably not very often the other side encountered this situation, and his tone of voice became serious: {Thank you very much. Would it be possible for you to disclose the contents of your donation?}

Lin Jingzhe said nonchalantly, “Bronzeware, probably Western Zhou or Shang dynasty, I’m not sure.”

{What?!}

The person on the other side of the phone was clearly frightened by Lin Jingzhe’s casual sentence. There was a sudden noise in the background, then the man covered the microphone and shouted something.

A few seconds later, the call was redirected, and another person answered, his manner professional: {Hello. Were the relics you wish to donate obtained through legal channels?}

“It’s my grandfather’s collection. He left it to me after he passed away not long ago, it was notarized.” Lin Jingzhe, aware of their concerns, looked at the time and said, “If your museum is not against my donation, please leave a fax number, I’ll send you the pictures.”

He wrote down the number and hung up, then sighed wearily, closing his eyes.

That’s it, just like this.

These antiques were Granpa’s treasures, his lifetime effort. Even if they were worth a king’s ransom, even if he was destitute and starving, he would never sell them.

If so, why not let them be kept in a safer and better place? Let them be displayed in the largest museum in the country, and allow more people to appreciate them. If Granpa knew, I’m sure he’d be happy.

The phone remained silent on the side table. Jiang Qiaqia really did not call again.

Suddenly, there was a lump in Lin Jingzhe’s throat. Without turning on the lights, he laid on the sofa and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Yan City, the National Musem’s office

A group of people anxiously stared at the fax machine on the desk, but the signal diode refused to blink. When they began to think the phone call was just a prank, someone shouted, “It’s here! The fax is coming!”

The quiet office abruptly became chaotic. As the fax machine let out an electronic scream and spit out a pile of printouts, the people rushed to grab them, then hungrily studied the pictures.

“Real… It’s real… The shape of this ritual wine vessel, and this taotie pattern! This is clearly the workmanship of the late Shang dynasty!”

“And this one, it still has the top! Heavens, it is so well preserved!”

“These are priceless.” An elderly man wearing glasses leaned over the table and carefully examined every picture. He shook his head and exclaimed, not daring to believe it, “That person really said ‘donation’? He’d give them to the museum for free?”

The museum’s director also thought it was unimaginable. “Yes. He left his address, saying that after we’ve verified the photos, we can send people directly to Liyun Town in Qunnan Province to receive them.”

“Qunnan Province?” The old man froze for a moment, then smiled faintly. “That’s a good place. Well then.” He took off his presbyopic glasses and laid them gently on the table. “It just so happens I have some free time on my hands, so allow me to accompany you for a trip.”

The director was shocked. “Elder Fang, please don’t joke. Qunnan Province is so far away, there’s no need for you to go personally. Your sanatorium…”

Elder Fang’s impatient hand wave interrupted his words. “Oh, stop shilly-shallying, I’m well aware these bronzes need an on-site appraisal. If they are real, it will be a powerful aid for bringing the country’s antique market under control.”