Old Master Qiao, seeing Wang Guan and Han Lang to the gate shortly after, beamed and said, "Have a good time, no need to rush back."

"Goodbye, Old Man," Wang Guan replied with a smile, waving farewell before unceremoniously settling into the back seat. Since Han Lang was taking the wheel, he might as well enjoy the deference of a master for once.

The drive itself requires no detailed recounting, perhaps because there was little to narrate—just a rather dull stretch of road. After about half an hour, they arrived in Jinyang City.

Although Han Lang had only been in Jinyang for a few days and was unfamiliar with it, they had GPS in the car, and since Qiao Yu had given the address of a relatively well-known location out of concern for Wang Guan getting lost, they reached their destination easily. It was a cultural plaza, and since it was still early afternoon, pedestrian traffic was sparse, leaving the expansive square feeling noticeably empty.

Han Lang parked the car. Wang Guan pushed the door open and immediately looked left and right, but saw no sign of Bei Ye or Qiao Yu.

"Is this the place?" Han Lang also stepped out.

"It should be," Wang Guan chuckled. "They're probably still shopping. We can wait here until they arrive."

As he spoke, Wang Guan spotted a few old bookstalls near the plaza, immediately walking over, pulling up a small stool, and calmly sitting down to browse through the selections.

Han Lang was sharp. After a quick survey of the plaza’s layout, he noticed rows of towering commercial buildings surrounding them. From above any of those towers, one could easily survey the entire plaza. Qiao Yu was likely in one of those malls, saw that he had followed, and was therefore deliberately remaining hidden and not calling Wang Guan over.

Han Lang was somewhat prepared for this situation. There was no hint of annoyance on his face; he remained composed, stepping lightly over to Wang Guan's side to wait with unruffled patience. This was now a contest of endurance; whoever grew impatient first would lose.

Han Lang waited, anticipating the moment Wang Guan or Qiao Yu would lose their nerve and initiate contact—that would be his victory.

Meanwhile, Wang Guan paid no mind to Han Lang’s maneuvering. Nor was there any need to interfere. He was presently engrossed in flipping through some old books, seeming quite content with the diversion.

The bookstalls held many old volumes, mostly outdated magazines, along with some children's comics from seven or eight years prior. Truly antique books were scarce; only a small pile dated back to the 1980s, and dreaming of rare texts from the late Qing or Republican eras was clearly out of the question.

However, there were a few pleasant surprises. Wang Guan spotted some Wuxia novels by Jin Yong and Gu Long—versions likely from the 1980s. Judging by the paper and print quality, they appeared to be genuine editions, holding some collectible value.

It was a pity these novels were incomplete, just scattered volumes without full sets, rendering them uninteresting for purchase. Wang Guan sighed slightly, shaking his head, and continued searching among the fiction section.

Just then, Wang Guan's scanning gaze abruptly halted. His fingers darted out, seizing an old book. After examining the volume for a moment, a pleased smile touched his face.

He studied it a while longer, then casually closed the book and quietly signaled the vendor over. He whispered, "Boss, how much for this old book?"

The vendor had initially found Wang Guan’s secretive demeanor odd, but upon seeing the title in Wang Guan's hand, a knowing smile spread across his face, and he whispered back, "Not expensive. Fifty is fine."

"That's steep; it's almost the price of a new copy," Wang Guan frowned, shaking his head.

"But it's an old book; it has character, looks better displayed at home, shows taste," the vendor countered with a laugh. "Who knows, in thirty or fifty years, it might become a valuable antique."

"A book published in the eighties won't become an antique until at least my great-grandson's generation," Wang Guan waved a hand, then lowered his voice again. "Can you come down a bit? This book seems to be volumes one and two. If you make it fifty for the set, I agree."

"That won't do. The sign clearly states old books are sold at their marked price," the vendor shook his head. "For two volumes, I can offer a discount, make it ninety."

"How about eighty?" Wang Guan haggled naturally.

"No, that’s too much of a loss..."

Nearby, Han Lang felt a pang of derision. Arguing so fiercely over ten yuan seemed beneath one's dignity. When curiosity prompted him to glance at the book Wang Guan held, he was utterly stunned.

Jin Ping Mei Cihua?

At first glance, Han Lang thought he had misread it, but looking again, he saw the cover depicted an ancient woman in a dudou, leaning by a window lattice, while behind a screen, a dissolute young man beckoned her...

This scene erased all doubt: Wang Guan was holding the Jin Ping Mei, often called the foremost strange book of ancient times. Regardless of its alleged strangeness, it could not escape its classification as an adult novel.

"Eighty-five..."

"Deal!"

Just then, Wang Guan reached an agreement with the vendor. After paying and receiving change, the set of Jin Ping Mei Cihua, consisting of two volumes, was his. Content with his purchase, Wang Guan left the stall and walked to a nearby herbal tea shop. He ordered a cup of bitter kuding tea, sat down, and opened the Jin Ping Mei right there, reading openly and without shame.

"This guy... isn't afraid I'll tattle?"

Han Lang was momentarily speechless, struck by Wang Guan's audacity. After thinking it over, he mimicked the action, ordering a cup of herbal tea himself and resuming his vigil beside Wang Guan. He was determined not to leave until his objective was met.

Wang Guan didn't mind. He looked up, smiled, and politely asked, "Want to read?"

Han Lang instinctively shook his head in refusal; he had no desire to be dragged into that situation.

"This book has a lot of flavor; it needs careful savoring," Wang Guan commented with a smile, then returned to his reading with keen interest. A formidable life needs no justification—if you understand, you understand; if not, why bother explaining?

However, Wang Guan's actions made Han Lang suspicious, thinking he was trying to shame him into leaving voluntarily.

"He vastly underestimates me. If the main culprit isn't afraid of ridicule, what do I have to worry about?" Han Lang mused inwardly, sipping his tea just as calmly.

Time slipped by, and his cup of tea was nearly empty. At that precise moment, Wang Guan’s phone rang. Han Lang instantly perked up, his gaze fixed on the phone with a feeling of light finally breaking through the clouds.

Wang Guan made no hesitation, pulling out his phone. After glancing at the caller ID, he answered with a smile. His voice was notably soft and indistinct, as if concerned about eavesdroppers.

After a few brief words, the caller hung up. Wang Guan pocketed his phone, stood up, and smiled. "Let's go. They are at Xiao Qiao's teacher's house now."

"Teacher?" Han Lang was surprised.

"Yes, apparently a highly respected teacher—the kind you call to check in on holidays," Wang Guan explained cheerfully. "It's in a neighborhood nearby; we can walk over."

Han Lang had no objections, as long as they weren't using this as a pretext to ditch him. Keeping this thought in mind, he quietly heightened his vigilance.

Yet, the journey proceeded unexpectedly smoothly. Wang Guan inquired for directions, and they slowly made their way into a quiet, elegant neighborhood nearby. They entered an apartment building, and Wang Guan rang the doorbell of one unit.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Bei Ye’s bright smile. "You're here."

"I'm here?"

Qiao Yu’s voice drifted from inside the apartment: "You weren't slow. I thought I'd have to come down to fetch you."

Two people had arrived, but Qiao Yu had only used a singular 'you,' clearly signaling her unwelcome attitude toward one of the visitors. Who that unwelcome guest was, everyone understood without needing to be told.

Glancing back at the impassive Han Lang, Wang Guan offered a slight smile and followed Bei Ye into the apartment.

The layout of the suite was generally standard; upon entering, they faced the living room. Wang Guan took a look and found the decor refined. A bookshelf stood in the corner, filled with various books, indicating the owner possessed high cultural taste. Several pieces of calligraphy and painting adorned the walls, providing perfect accents that imbued the living room with an atmosphere of literary grace.

Wang Guan was also certain this was genuine refinement, not just affected elegance.

Because at that moment, sitting on the sofa in the living room, was an elderly man wearing glasses. He appeared to be in his late sixties or early seventies, with short, neatly combed silver-white hair and a cleanly shaven jaw, devoid of any beard. Beneath thick lenses, however, lay a pair of piercingly bright eyes, and his entire demeanor exuded the scholarly air of a well-read man.

"Wang Guan, this is Teacher Tao, who teaches me painting."

At the same time, Qiao Yu made the introduction: "Teacher Tao is one of the foremost great painters in Jinsheng Province, and he's also the chairman of the Provincial Artists Association. He's incredibly accomplished."

"Let's not bring up matters from several years ago; I've already retired," Old Master Tao chuckled lightly. "Besides, you have it backward. It wasn't the chairman position that was impressive; it was my skill that made me chairman."

"Uh..."

Seeing this, Wang Guan was slightly taken aback by the old gentleman's frank lack of modesty. Qiao Yu, however, nodded in complete agreement, quickly chiming in, "Of course, Teacher is the most accomplished."

"Indeed, birds of a feather flock together," Wang Guan remarked with a touch of irony, then bowed respectfully. "Hello, Elder Tao! Forgive my intrusion with this unannounced visit; I apologize for disturbing you."

"Mm."

Elder Tao's attitude held a degree of hauteur, but his gaze shifted to Qiao Yu. Seeing her subtle shake of the head, his expression immediately softened, and he smiled slightly. "It's quite alright. Welcome. Please, sit down."

This sudden shift in demeanor did not escape Wang Guan's notice, and Han Lang, standing nearby, naturally perceived it as well. Unquestionably, this was Qiao Yu’s doing. Since Han Lang had the backing of Old Master Qiao, she had shrewdly brought forth her own influential teacher.

It was clear that Qiao Yu's teacher was far more than just a recently retired chairman of the Jinsheng Provincial Artists Association... (To be continued) www.RT