A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

Chen Che did not move.

Mr. Su didn't mind. He picked up his teacup, gently blew away the foam, and took a sip.

"Zhang Xiaolin came to see you today," he said. "That kid is impatient. I told him to wait a little longer, but he wouldn't listen."

Chen Che's eyes flickered slightly: "Did you instruct Zhang Xiaolin to go to the Peace Hotel?"

Mr. Su put down his teacup and looked up at Chen Che.

"Yes and no," he said. "I want to see you, but I don't want to see you this way. Zhang Xiaolin is too impatient; once he leaves, you will definitely come. But when you come, it won't be as a guest."

Chen Che remained silent for a moment, then slowly walked to the armchair and sat down.

"Then, in what capacity should I act?"

Mr. Su stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"The identity of the investigator," he said.

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a moment.

Chen Che's hands clenched quietly under the table, but his face remained calm.

"Mr. Su has excellent connections."

Mr. Su sighed, a sigh tinged with genuine weariness.

Outside the window, the snow continued to fall heavily.

The wisps of smoke rising from the incense burner slowly spread between the two men, like a subtle barrier between them.

After Mr. Su finished speaking, he didn't rush to wait for Chen Che's reply. Instead, he picked up his teacup and took another sip, seemingly giving the young man enough time to digest the information.

Chen Che remained silent for a long time.

The sunlight from the snow outside shone through the paper windowpane, casting long shadows of the two people onto the opposite wall, like two silent, confronting knives.

"You say yes, I say no," Chen Che finally spoke, his voice calm. "You can't get anywhere arguing about this."

Mr. Su nodded slightly, a hint of appreciation flashing in his eyes.

He didn't continue, but gently waved his hand, as if waving away some past events that shouldn't be mentioned.

"Alright, let's not dwell on the past." Mr. Su put down his teacup, folded his hands on his knees, and leaned forward slightly. "Since you're here tonight, I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

Chen Che looked up at him.

Mr. Su's gaze turned serious, and for the first time, something akin to sincerity appeared in his unfathomable black pupils.

"You should have already heard about the Zhabei Martial Arts Academy incident."

Chen Che did not deny it. Of course he had heard about it. The Zhabei Martial Arts Academy was the leading martial arts institution in Shanghai.

He paused, then lowered his voice slightly: "Once Akutagawa's men entered Zhabei, the Zhabei Martial Arts Academy will no longer be the martial arts academy of Shanghai."

Chen Che understood the underlying meaning in his words.

"So Mr. Su is trying to take advantage of the situation?"

Mr. Su burst into laughter, his voice so powerful that it made the smoke in the incense burner tremble.

"Taking advantage of someone's misfortune?" He stopped laughing and shook his head. "That's not the right word. It should be said—fishing in troubled waters."

Chen Che did not laugh.

Mr. Su's smile faded, and he said seriously, "I won't beat around the bush. I want to join the Zhabei Martial Arts Academy, but not under the name of Liufenbantang, but as a 'collaborator.' You need someone who can keep things in check to be the head of this academy, and I need a legitimate place to stand."

"You want to be the owner?"

"No." Mr. Su extended his slender finger and pointed at Chen Che. "You want to be the owner of the museum."

The room fell silent again.

The wisps of smoke from the incense burner rose gently, swirling slowly between the two. Chen Che's expression remained unchanged, but a slight ripple finally appeared in his usually calm eyes.

"Me?" he said. "An outsider, new to Shanghai, what makes me qualified to be the head of the Zhabei Martial Arts Academy?"

Mr. Su stood up, walked to the window, turned his back to Chen Che, and looked out at the heavy snow falling all around.

"You're wrong." His voice was deep and resolute.

He turned around and stared intently at Chen Che.

Chen Che paused for a moment, then suddenly asked an unrelated question: "What is Mr. Su's relationship with the four major families of Shanghai?"

Mr. Su was slightly taken aback, then smiled, a smile that was quite meaningful.

"I'm not from the Green Gang, and I don't like to kill people off. Rather than waiting for you to be weakened by internal strife before swallowing you whole, I'd rather act as a mediator—you provide the money and land, I, Liufenbantang, provide the manpower and resources, and you, Chen Che, will take charge. The profits will be divided among the three parties, and everyone will get what they deserve."

Chen Che picked up the teacup, but didn't drink it; he simply twirled it gently in his hand.

"The profits are divided among three parties," he repeated, "which sounds like Mr. Su is doing charity."

Mr. Su's smile remained unchanged, but his eyes became more profound.

"There's no charity, only business," he said. "What I need is the network behind the Zhabei Martial Arts Academy. The four major families have been operating in Shanghai for twenty years, building a network that covers the business, political, and concession areas. What my Liufenbantang lacks is not money, not people, but this network."

He held up three fingers.

"Three years. You will serve as the head of the sect for me for three years. After three years, you can decide the position of sect leader yourself; I will not interfere. In exchange, the Six and a Half Sect will fully support your management."

Chen Che stopped turning the teacup.

Are you threatening me?

"I'm making a deal with you." Mr. Su's voice was soft, but it pierced Chen Che's ears like a nail. "In the entire Shanghai, only we have this capability."

He paused deliberately, looking directly into Chen Che's eyes.

Chen Che's pupils suddenly contracted.

Seeing his reaction, Mr. Su's smile gradually faded, replaced by an unusual seriousness.

"Chen Che, you came to my hall tonight to investigate the truth. I want to enter the Zhabei Martial Arts Academy to pave my way. Our goals don't conflict; in fact, they complement each other. You help me get into Zhabei, and I'll help you find the truth. Fair trade, no cheating."

Chen Che slowly put down his teacup and stood up.

"What if I don't agree?"

Mr. Su leaned back in his chair, looked up at the young man, his gaze as calm as a stagnant pool.

"Then you'll have to use your own methods to investigate," he said. "Shanghai is so big that one person could search for another their whole life and still not find them. Shanghai is also so small that if you offend someone you shouldn't, you could be floating down the Huangpu River tomorrow morning."

He stood up and looked Chen Che in the eye.

"I won't threaten you, nor will I force you. At Six and a Half Hall, everything is based on mutual consent. You can go back and think it over slowly; come find me anytime you've decided. But—"

He held up a finger and gently waved it in front of Chen Che.

Chen Che stared at him for a long time.

The snow outside the window had lessened sometime ago, leaving only a few snowflakes swirling in the wind. The smoke from the incense burner had thinned to almost invisible, leaving only a faint wisp of fragrance drifting in the air.

"I'll consider it," Chen Che finally said, turning and walking towards the door.

Mr. Su did not try to stop him, but simply said behind him, "By the way, your attendant is still standing outside in the snow. It's cold outside, let him come in for a cup of hot tea before he leaves; that's my way of treating guests."

Chen Che paused slightly, then said without turning his head, "No need. Third Brother isn't afraid of the cold."

He pushed open the door and stepped out, his figure disappearing at the end of the dimly lit corridor.

Mr. Su stood there, watching the young man's back recede into the distance, a meaningful smile slowly appearing on his lips.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an aged voice suddenly came from the shadows in the corner of the room: "Does the sect leader believe him?"

Mr. Su did not turn around, as if he already knew that someone was hiding in the shadows.

"Believe it or not, it doesn't matter," he said. "What matters is that he's the most suitable pawn I've ever seen. He's skilled enough, intelligent enough, and has enough motivation—a son who wants to avenge his father is the most useful weapon."

"But he might not be willing to be used by the hall master." The aged voice rang out again.

Mr. Su turned around, walked to the window, and looked at the two figures walking further and further away in the snow.

"That's why I didn't pressure him," he said, his voice so low it seemed he was talking to himself. "The Chen family are the type who respond better to gentle persuasion than force. The more you pressure him, the more he'll oppose you. If you give him benefits, he'll end up owing you a favor."

He stretched out his finger and slowly wrote two words on the frosted glass—

Zhabei.

Then, with a gentle wipe, the trace of those two words was completely erased.

Outside the window, the heavy snow had finally stopped.