Given what had transpired, Zhong Yun felt too awkward to re-enter, nor did he wish to face their hostile glares again. Seeing that the hour was still early, he recalled his intended visit to Elder Huang that afternoon and decided to take advantage of the free time.
Leaving messages for Chen Wen and Tian Hai, Zhong Yun hailed a taxi.
Elder Huang—the same floral expert who had authenticated the "Seven Fairies"—had mailed him a membership card the day after selling that particular pot. The card invited him to visit whenever he had time.
Initially, Zhong Yun hadn't paid it much mind, but once he understood the card’s true value, he certainly couldn't ignore the invitation any longer. A visit was the least he could do.
Following the address Elder Huang had provided, Zhong Yun arrived at a remarkably quiet, large, villa-style house.
Just as he was about to ring the doorbell, the door swung open on its own. An old man emerged, head bowed, looking utterly dejected. He walked away slowly, his frame stooped, clutching a small box.
Zhong Yun thought the old man looked vaguely familiar but didn't dwell on it, pressing the doorbell instead.
“It’s young friend Zhong. Come in quickly,” Elder Huang’s voice carried a distinct note of joy.
Zhong Yun had fortunately called ahead to check Elder Huang’s availability; otherwise, he wouldn't even have known if entry was possible.
The large gate closed silently. As Zhong Yun stepped forward to enter, his body suddenly froze. A lightning bolt of recognition flashed through his mind: wasn't that the old man he had encountered amidst the sea of flowers, the one holding a pot of withered "Crystal Glazed Rose"?
The realization rooted him to the spot. He hastily called out, “Elder Huang, wait just a moment. I need to take care of something first.” With that, he turned and sprinted in the direction the old man had gone.
The man hadn't gotten far. Zhong Yun quickly caught up. “Old sir… old sir…” Seeing no response, he gently patted the man’s back. “Old sir.”
“Did you call me?” The old man finally turned, glancing at Zhong Yun. “Is something the matter?”
“Do you remember me?” Zhong Yun asked. “I saw you at the flower sea.”
The old man paused in thought, then slowly shook his head. “I didn’t pay much attention.”
He added, “Young man, what do you need from me?”
Zhong Yun smiled, trying to appear as amiable as possible. “I know your ‘Crystal Glazed Rose’ has withered. I wonder if you might be willing to let me have it? We can certainly discuss the price.”
As he finished the last sentence, he suddenly remembered the pitiful one thousand remaining in his bank account—all the rest had been drained by ZER.
Just half an hour earlier, a sum had been transferred in, only to be whisked away in the blink of an eye. It must have been that vampire, ZER.
“What did you say?” The old man’s face flushed with anger, as if deeply insulted. “You want to buy my ‘Qingqing’? Don't even think about it.”
Qingqing? Must be some woman’s name, Zhong Yun guessed privately.
As he spoke, two streams of cloudy tears rolled down the old man’s cheeks. “My Qingqing…” He hugged the box tighter, overcome with inexpressible grief.
Zhong Yun stood by, unsure how to offer comfort.
If this ‘Crystal Glazed Rose,’ as he suspected, had withered naturally upon reaching the end of its lifespan, it was immensely valuable to him. He had to acquire it, even if it meant offering the old man substantial compensation. After all, the flower was useless to him now.
After a long silence, the old man sighed. “Forget it.”
He looked up then, studying Zhong Yun intently for the first time. A strange pressure emanated from the aged face, making Zhong Yun feel uneasy. “You truly desire this pot of ‘Crystal Glazed Rose’?”
“Yes,” Zhong Yun met the old man’s eyes directly, his gaze honest.
The old man nodded, then asked, “And how much are you prepared to pay for it?”
“Five million,” Zhong Yun stated without hesitation.
The old man looked at him with surprise, his eyes unreadable. “Five million? A ‘Crystal Glazed Rose’ of first-rate quality only commands ten million on the open market. You are quite generous.”
He stroked the box in his hands, his eyes filled with deep attachment and reluctance. This flower must carry the weight of his countless affections and hopes.
“One final question, and you must answer truthfully. Why do you need this flower so desperately?”
As the old man spoke, a sharp glint shot from his cloudy eyes. Zhong Yun’s body stiffened. The old man’s stooped frame suddenly seemed enormous, radiating an intense aura that pressed down on Zhong Yun, stealing his breath.
Zhong Yun broke out in a cold sweat, feeling the old man’s gaze lock onto him, rendering him immobile.
In a moment of panic, an internal stream of energy naturally generated and flooded his body. All the pressure vanished instantly. He staggered back a few steps, staring at the old man in disbelief.
A tempest raged in Zhong Yun’s heart. For such a physically frail, stooped elder to unleash such potent spiritual pressure was almost inconceivable.
“Eh?” The old man gasped, clearly surprised. “For one so young, your strength is not weak. Which lineage do you hail from?” The old man’s previous decrepitude had completely vanished; every gesture now carried an air of commanding superiority.
Zhong Yun inwardly lamented his bad luck. He had stumbled upon yet another hidden master—a casual encounter with an old man who could exhaust his vital energy merely by fixing him with a look. They were not on the same level; fighting was out of the question.
Furthermore, this master had a strange temperament. Possessing such supreme power, yet reducing himself to such a pathetic state over a single flower—was he unambitious, or was he simply consumed by devotion?
The situation looked grim. He had set his sights on the item this eccentric master valued most. It seemed this endeavor might result in snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.
“My surname is Zhong,” Zhong Yun answered truthfully, vaguely suspecting the elder might assume he belonged to some established faction, much like Chen Wen had.
“Surname Zhong?” The old man frowned curiously. “The Zhong family has nurtured such an outstanding young man? It seems I have been gone too long.” The old man looked wistful.
“Sir, I was truly blind. May I ask… senior, what is your esteemed name?” Zhong Yun forced a dry laugh. He desperately wanted to turn and flee, but he knew escape was impossible. It was better to forge a connection quickly to save his life.
“I haven’t used my name in a long time,” the old man mused. “My surname is Yang. My given name is… Siqing.” As he spoke the name Siqing, a flicker of remembrance crossed his face.
Zhong Yun immediately recognized that this was likely not his true name. Siqing—linking it to how passionately he had called the ‘Crystal Glazed Rose’ “Qingqing”—it was almost certain that his beloved woman’s name contained the character 'Qing,' and perhaps she had left him for some reason, leading him to transfer his affections onto the flower.
These thoughts flashed through his mind. Zhong Yun then asked, “Senior Yang, do you have any connection to the Yang family?”
“I have absolutely no connection to the Yang family,” Elder Yang Siqing denied sharply.
Zhong Yun was momentarily stunned. It had been a casual question, but the elder’s strong reaction made him suspicious. He tested the waters again. “Oh, I thought you might be an elder of the Yang family, as you bear a strong resemblance to Uncle Yang San.”
He recalled hearing from Liu Yunqi that her father was the third-born son. He was merely trying to bluff the old man.
Watching his reaction, as expected, the elder’s expression became complicated, as if recalling past events.
“People simply look alike.”
Hearing the insincerity in his voice, Zhong Yun grew more certain: this elder calling himself Yang Siqing had a profound connection to the Yang family.
P: The Newcomer Rankings have advanced to the top fifty. Many thanks to all the brothers for their support.