It was a relief when class finally ended. I quickly packed my things and hurried over to Hou Dayong. Hou Dayong was just hoisting his backpack, ready to leave, when I dashed forward and caught him.

“You only got halfway through that story just now!”

“Oh, you’re that interested!” Hou Dayong chuckled, looking at me. “I don’t have class this afternoon; a friend invited me over to his place to look at stamps. I might go even if it costs me, want to come along?”

Hearing this, I felt a surprising sense of flattered excitement. Making a friend on my first day in a new class, and immediately being invited to their home—it was thrilling. However, beneath the joy, a slight doubt lingered. “Do you think the Master will agree to let me come with you?”

“No worries, I’ll call and let him know right now. He’s a pretty easygoing guy.”

Hou Dayong dialed a number on his mobile phone and began speaking in a voice that boomed out like a loudspeaker. Less than two minutes later, the call ended.

The Big Monkey turned to me, looking utterly pleased with himself. “Done. We’ll hit the cafeteria for lunch, and then we’ll go check out the stamps.”

So, Hou Dayong took me to the school cafeteria for lunch, and then we hopped on a bus heading straight for the destination.

The destination was a villa complex tucked away in the far western suburbs of Xiangcheng. We took two transfers, including the subway, and it took over two hours to reach this extraordinary place. What made it extraordinary was the sheer beauty of the scenery: views of lakes and mountains, little bridges over flowing water—it had everything. People who lived here had to be extremely wealthy or influential; they certainly weren't ordinary folk. Ah, not ordinary... this brought that person to mind. Thinking about his family background, living in a villa here would make perfect sense. Could the place we were going to be his house?

It must be agonizing to live here without private transportation. When I first saw the main gate of the villa area, I thought my twenty-five-thousand-mile trek was over. Little did I know there was still a substantial distance to cover inside the complex. We walked for another twenty minutes before finally arriving at a small house situated right in the middle of the lake, perfectly illustrating the saying, “It’s lonely at the top.”

Ding-dong, ding-dong... Hou Dayong rang the doorbell. All the way here, he had been nonstop, recounting numerous stories about himself and another girl. Although I wasn’t deeply invested, it felt impolite to interrupt someone I had just met. Actually, all I could think about was the unsolved mystery mentioned that morning. Dayong had said Bai Huajian might come. Was she already in this little house? Maybe the person opening the door would be her.

Alas! The one who opened the door wasn't a girl, but an elderly gentleman. He was stooped over, leaning on a cane, with snow-white hair and a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. The style of the glasses was ancient, the kind you only ever see in historical films or museums.

“Uncle Ou, hello!” Hou Dayong greeted the old man with a broad, very polite smile.

Kindness to the elderly is a virtue. Following Hou Dayong’s lead, I forced a smile, bowed slightly, and offered my own greeting to the senior.

The old man didn't utter a word, simply smiling and ushering us inside.

The foyer is the first scene that greets you upon entering; the owner's habits, taste, and hobbies are all laid bare here. Owners who dislike tidiness usually pile miscellaneous items haphazardly on their shoe cabinets—things like keys, crumpled receipts, plastic bags, parking stubs, coupons, promotional flyers, and so on. The shoe cabinet in the foyer of my own house is stacked high with posters and flyers my older sister collects during her shopping sprees. While other homes display vases full of fresh or artificial flowers, ours features a beer mug overflowing with advertising leaflets—that’s the Master’s touch. However, the owner of this house had neither a vase nor a beer mug, nor any assortment of messy flyers. His foyer was quite distinct: the upper half was a semi-translucent glass wall, and the lower half held a compact shoe cabinet. The top of the cabinet was impeccably neat, holding only one small, seven-inch bronze-framed photograph and a few stamp collecting magazines casually placed beside it. Beyond that, there was nothing extraneous.

The photograph in the frame was an old black-and-white image. It must have been quite old, as the subject wasn't clearly defined. I leaned in close, scrutinizing it for a long time, before finally recognizing a man dressed in the style of the Republic of China era. He was holding a book, leaning against an empty chair. The way he leaned, the expression in his smile—it was strikingly similar to the poses grooms often strike in wedding photos. The only discordant element was the empty chair right next to the 'groom.'