Suddenly, Gao Dequan emerged from the room, his voice deep. "The mere fact that you could borrow influence already demonstrates your capability. Understand this: some forms of influence are not available for the mere asking. It depends entirely on whether we are willing to lend it to you."

"Uncle De."

Wang Guan started, feeling a sudden fuzziness in his head, wondering how he had let his true thoughts slip out. It seemed his special ability only served to temporarily ward off the alcohol's effects. Once the time passed, the full force of the liquor would return, leaving Wang Guan dizzy and confused.

"Kid, I wondered how you could remain so composed after experiencing all that superficiality. Turns out it was just an act," Gao Dequan chuckled softly, walking over to sit opposite Wang Guan, pouring a cup of tea and savoring it slowly.

At this point, Wang Guan felt the less he said, the fewer mistakes he would make, so he simply remained silent. Yu Feibai, however, seemed about to say something, but sensing the delicate atmosphere, he opened his mouth only to close it again without uttering a sound.

Gao Dequan, for his part, also gave no indication of speaking, continuing to sip his tea.

"Young man, give this some serious thought. Why did we allow you to borrow our influence? And what made Fang Mingsheng so certain you could succeed in borrowing it?" After a while, Gao Dequan finished his tea, left those words hanging in the air, and then leisurely returned to his room.

Simultaneously, Yu Feibai patted Wang Guan’s shoulder, stood up, and said, "Brother, I actually admire you quite a bit. Not because of your family background, but because of your ability."

"My old man always has this saying hanging on his lips; perhaps you should listen."

At this moment, Yu Feibai stepped into his room, and just as he was closing the door, he spoke, "There is certainly no absolute fairness in this society, but it hasn't sunk so low as to bury truly capable people before they can rise."

"Oh, one last thing before I go: my old man also came from a farming background. It's just that he fought in the Vietnam War, luckily made it out alive, and then clawed his way up over two or three decades, eventually becoming a general."

"He often says that a general in peacetime is just window dressing, nothing special, and less promising than a farmer. If he had known earlier, he shouldn't have worn the uniform; now he’s constrained at every turn, never truly free."

"Truthfully, in my opinion, the old man is just being dramatic; he’s secretly quite proud. And yet, with all that, he still wants to push me onto his old path. Isn't that a death sentence? I couldn't possibly endure that kind of suffering, so I ran away from home. I refuse to believe that with my talent and effort, I can’t make a name for myself in the collecting world."

As he spoke, Yu Feibai closed the door with a soft click, and silence descended.

Meanwhile, Wang Guan touched his nose and muttered softly to himself, "Is that supposed to be encouragement? It sounded an awful lot like showing off. The son of a general—that’s quite the status symbol, huh."

"Just a momentary reflection, making it sound like I’ve lost all resolve. Honestly... sleep!"

After drying his hair, Wang Guan also returned to his room, collapsing onto the bed, and immediately fell asleep.

The night passed without incident. Wang Guan didn't wake until past nine the next morning. He pulled back the curtains to see bright sunlight illuminating the rolling, scenic landscape of Longhu Mountain in the distance, the fresh air rushing in, soothing his mind.

A new day had begun. Wang Guan felt refreshed. After washing up, he left his room to find that neither Gao Dequan nor Yu Feibai had woken up yet. He roused them both, and they went downstairs together for breakfast.

Shortly after, around ten o'clock, Su Wenyì and his daughter arrived as scheduled.

After exchanging pleasantries, everyone gathered in the reception room and chatted for a while. Wang Guan then returned to his room and brought out the box of antique inkstones, gently opening the lid. A faint, ethereal scent of ink drifted out.

"Fine ink!"

Su Wenyì's eyes lit up. He seemed quite knowledgeable about ancient ink. He approached without putting on gloves, picked up a piece of ink, observed it briefly, and exclaimed in admiration, "The texture is hard, the aroma is rich, and the color is like lacquer—truly a rare and excellent ink."

"I'm glad you are satisfied, Mr. Su." Wang Guan smiled.

Su Wenyì nodded slightly and replied briskly, "The items are excellent. I'll take them all. Name your price."

"This box of antique ink spans from the Kangxi to the Guangxu eras, with pieces from every dynasty. Furthermore, it includes top-grade ink made by famous artisans as well as more common stock. Their values differ greatly, making estimation difficult."

As he spoke, a flash of cunning crossed Wang Guan's eyes, and he chuckled lightly, "However, I can see that Mr. Su is also an expert. You set a price that feels fair to you; just make sure I’m not losing out."

Hearing this, Gao Dequan remained silent with a smile, his gaze holding a hint of approval.

This is how business negotiations should be conducted: yielding ground to advance is a brilliant tactic. However, such tactics depend on the person involved. If one encounters someone truly shameless, hitting them with the lowest possible price would be counterproductive.

Yet, Wang Guan was certain that given Su Wenyì’s status, with Gao Dequan and Yu Feibai present, he would never stoop to such a breach of decorum.

"Little brother, you’re setting a trap for me," Su Wenyì laughed. With his experience, how could he not recognize Wang Guan's little trick? But even knowing what was happening, he didn't mind. He possessed that much magnanimity; business is business, and within legal bounds, any method is fair game.

In his many years navigating the business world, Wang Guan's minor maneuver could be described as quite naive. But the method wasn't about complexity; practicality was key. It was like an obvious ploy—even if you understand the trap set for you, you are compelled to step into it.

In truth, with Su Wenyì's intelligence, he had at least dozens of ways to effortlessly resolve the situation.

However, his main purpose for coming here wasn't really to buy ink. The serious business came first. At worst, he might overpay slightly, which would serve as a favor to Gao Dequan. Besides, he didn't give this small sum a second thought.

Just as Su Wenyì was weighing the pros and cons, preparing to name a somewhat high price, the beautiful woman who had been silently adhering to her role as secretary spoke up first, "Dad, let me handle this negotiation."

"Eh!"

Everyone was momentarily startled, a bit surprised.

At the same time, Su Wenyì’s eyes flickered, as if something clicked in his mind, and he suddenly smiled, "Very well. These antique inks are a gift for your grandfather. He dotes on you the most, so letting you handle the negotiation is a nice way to show your filial piety."

As he spoke, Su Wenyì formally introduced them: "Brother Gao, this is my daughter, Su Yu. She heard I was coming to Longhu Mountain and insisted on joining me for the sightseeing. Yu'er, greet Uncle Gao."

"Hello, Uncle Gao." Su Yu chimed in.

At this moment, Wang Guan finally heard her voice clearly—it was soft, light, delicate, and beautiful, filled with the unique, melodious quality of the Jiangnan region, almost like a gentle, low song.

"Oh dear, Brother Su, why didn't you say so sooner? My niece is here, and as her uncle, I haven't even prepared a welcoming gift," Gao Dequan feigned complaint, though it was unclear if he was genuinely unaware or just playing along.