I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

Early in the morning, as Li Jing'an stepped into the guesthouse, he heard a sharp argument coming from the corridor. A middle-aged male customer was shouting excitedly at the front desk, clutching a chipped enamel mug in his hand.

"It's so early in the morning, and your guesthouse doesn't even have hot water. Is that acceptable?"

The female clerk behind the counter barely lifted her eyelids, slowly sorting through the receipts as she replied, "The batch of kettles that the boiler room picked up at six o'clock this morning has all been taken away, so there's no hot water now. Wait for the second batch at ten. If you're in a hurry, go buy a bottle of soda."

"What kind of attitude is that? I'm a guest staying here!"

"Then you have to follow the rules." The waiter finally looked up, his voice not loud but firm. "The hot water won't be available until noon. I have to clean and hand over duties here, so I don't have time to go get it for you. Either you wait, or you don't need to use it."

The customer blushed, speechless, and opened his mouth, unable to utter a word. Seeing this, the waitress curled her lip slightly, lowered her head to continue working on her notebook, and ignored her completely.

Li Jing'an stood by the door, watching, and couldn't help but smile slightly.

Yes, that's the flavor—the rough, straightforward, even slightly prickly, way of dealing with people. Two days apart, and it actually felt familiar. Everything was still running on its proper course, unchanged.

He didn't linger. He turned around, went up the stairs to the third floor, and pushed open the door to his office.

Afterwards, in the office, he drank tea and read the newspaper. He even called Qin Huairu and Wang Caixia up one by one. They massaged his shoulders and legs, served him tea and water, and cleaned the room.

Then compare whether their eloquence has improved. This is the life Li Jing'an wants.

Around 10 a.m.

When the old-fashioned telephone in the office suddenly rang, Li Jing'an was staring blankly at the sycamore tree outside the window. He slowly stood up, walked to his desk, and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, is this Comrade Li Jing'an? This is Zhao Wenguang from the state-run cultural relics store."

Li Jing'an's eyes immediately lit up. He adjusted his posture and unconsciously lowered his voice: "Comrade Zhao, hello. Is there any news?"

Zhao Wenguang's slightly excited voice came from the other end of the phone: "The one you asked me to keep an eye on last time, I've made some progress. Would it be convenient for us to meet this afternoon? At a teahouse in Liulichang."

"Of course, see you at the teahouse at 2 PM." Li Jing'an hung up the phone.

Li Jing'an called Wang Caixia over to give her some instructions, then went home to get the money. He ate lunch on the way home.

At 1:50 p.m., Li Jing'an arrived at the old teahouse on East Street ahead of schedule. He chose a quiet spot by the window, ordered a pot of Longjing tea, and waited patiently.

"Comrade Li, you've arrived very early."

Zhao Wenguang appeared at the teahouse entrance on time, carrying a black imitation leather bag. He looked around nervously as he walked. Upon seeing Li Jing'an, he quickly walked over and sat down opposite him.

"Comrade Zhao, what would you like to drink?" Li Jing'an poured Zhao Wenguang a cup of tea.

Zhao Wenguang waved his hand, leaned closer, and lowered his voice: "Comrade Li, we haven't encountered anyone directly selling 'good stuff' in the store these past two days, but I have two people here who have come to our store several times. They definitely have the goods."

Li Jing'an calmly took a sip of tea: "What's your background?"

"These two came from prominent families." Zhao Wenguang rubbed his hands together, a shrewd glint in his eyes. "Although they've fallen on hard times, they're still quite wealthy. They often bring antiques to sell. I reckon they must have even better ones in their possession."

Li Jing'an considered the situation in his mind, but his face remained calm: "As long as the items are good, each one will cost 20% more than in an antique shop. Your service fee is guaranteed."

Hearing this, Zhao Wenguang's wrinkles smoothed out: "Comrade Li, you're so generous! You gave me ten yuan the other day, I knew you were a man of principle." He picked up his teacup, his hand trembling slightly, "Shall we go now? The first one isn't far from here."

The two left the teahouse and walked through the bustling Liulichang East Street. As they walked, Zhao Wenguang introduced the family: "The first family is surnamed Chen. Their ancestors were Hanlin scholars, and during the Republic of China era, a provincial governor came from their family. Now..." He shook his head and didn't continue.

Turning into a narrow alley, Zhao Wenguang stopped in front of a weathered wooden door and gently knocked on the door knocker. After a moment, the door opened a crack, revealing a pale and thin face.

"Mr. Chen, it's me, Zhao from the antique shop." Zhao Wenguang put on a smile. "I brought a friend to see your treasures."

The door then opened fully. A man in his fifties, wearing a faded blue Zhongshan suit, with tape wrapped around the temples of his glasses, opened the door. He glanced at Li Jing'an a few times and nodded slightly: "Please come in."

The courtyard was small but clean and tidy, with several pots of chrysanthemums blooming in the corner. Mr. Chen led them into the main house, where the furnishings were simple yet exuded a sense of refinement from the past—the mahogany tea table, though weathered, was exquisitely carved; the wall clock was a Western item, its pendulum swinging rhythmically.

"Please wait a moment." Mr. Chen turned and went into the inner room.

Li Jing'an looked around, inwardly sighing at the family's former glory. Zhao Wenguang leaned close to his ear and whispered, "This family used to have a lot of good stuff hidden away a few years ago, but now they have no choice but to take it all out one by one to make a living."

Mr. Chen came out carrying a wooden box and carefully placed it on the coffee table. Opening the lid, he found the box lined with red velvet, on which rested two pieces of porcelain.

"A Yongzheng famille rose floral bowl, a Qianlong cloisonné enamel vase." Mr. Chen's voice was calm, but a hint of reluctance flashed in his eyes.

Li Jing'an knew nothing about antiques, but he understood one principle: what would be expensive in the future wouldn't be cheap now. He carefully examined the two pieces: the famille rose bowl had a warm, lustrous glaze and exquisite painting; the cloisonné vase was brightly colored and intricately crafted. Although he couldn't discern their significance, his intuition told him that these two items were extraordinary.

"Mr. Chen, name your price," Li Jing'an said directly.

Mr. Chen quoted a price, 30% higher than the antique shop's purchase price. Zhao Wenguang was about to haggle when Li Jing'an waved his hand, "Let's do as Mr. Chen says."

Mr. Chen was visibly taken aback, clearly not expecting the other party to be so agreeable. Li Jing'an counted out the money and handed it over. Mr. Chen's hand trembled slightly as he took it, and he whispered, "Thank you."

After carefully wrapping the porcelain, Li Jing'an and Zhao Wenguang left the Chen family's house. As soon as they exited the alley, Li Jing'an took out two ten-yuan bills from his pocket and handed them to Zhao Wenguang: "Thank you for your hard work, Comrade Zhao."

Zhao Wenguang took the money, thanked him repeatedly, and his face was beaming like a steamed bun: "Comrade Li is so generous! Come on, let's hurry to the next one, it's not far from here."