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

When the northwest wind blows, the power lines in the alley hum and rattle, and pedestrians on the street hunch their shoulders, tuck their hands into their sleeves, and hurry along.

The old teahouse next to Liulichang is still in the same old spot.

Gray brick wooden door, small square table and long bench, a large iron stove burning red-hot inside, the chimney curving out along the wall. Pushing open the door, the heat carrying the aroma of tea, water vapor, and a faint smell of smoke rushes in, enough to dispel any chill from one's body.

Li Jing'an parked the gleaming old-fashioned motorcycle against the wall, gently locked it with the iron chain, and brushed a few snowflakes off his shoulder.

As soon as he entered, a person stood up from the table by the window and waved to him repeatedly, with a familiar yet somewhat ingratiating smile on his face.

It was Zhao Wenguang from the antique shop.

"Chief Li! Here I am! We've been waiting for you!"

Li Jing'an nodded slightly, walked over at a leisurely pace, pulled out a stool, and sat down.

The waiter was very perceptive and immediately brought over a large copper kettle to brew them a pot of piping hot flower tea.

"They called me at the guesthouse first thing this morning." Li Jing'an picked up his teacup, blew on the tea leaves floating on top, and said calmly, "Is there some good stuff again?"

Zhao Wenguang chuckled, leaned forward, and lowered his voice so low that only the two of them could hear him.

"Do you remember Old Wu who pulled a last-minute price increase and tricked you last time he sold your paintings?"

Li Jing'an's fingers, which were holding the cup, paused almost imperceptibly.

His face remained expressionless, but a hint of coldness had already flashed deep in his eyes.

How come I don't remember?

Last time, after agreeing on a price and even unfolding the painting, just before payment, Old Wu suddenly raised the price, saying he urgently needed money at home and wouldn't sell it for a penny less.

He didn't want to cause any more trouble at the time, but he kept holding onto this anger.

Li Jing'an is the one who schemes against others; very few people can outsmart him.

Old Wu was the first.

"I remember," Li Jing'an replied indifferently, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger. "Is he trying to sell things again?"

"Yes!" Zhao Wenguang nodded quickly, his eyes brightening. "He came to my shop early this morning, saying he had two old paintings at home that he wanted to sell. I thought about it, and you were the first person I thought of for this good opportunity."

Li Jing'an looked up at him, his gaze calm, yet carrying a pressure that commanded respect:

Is it reliable?

"Don't let it happen again like last time, where I went there and he changed his mind at the last minute, playing me for a fool."

Zhao Wenguang immediately waved his hand and patted his chest to guarantee:

"Don't worry, Jing'an, this time it's absolutely reliable! Old Wu is truly in dire straits, urgently needing money, he doesn't dare to play tricks, and he can't afford to!"

Li Jing'an then showed a slight interest, leaning forward slightly, his tone calm yet firm:

"What happened to him?"

He needs to figure it out.

He won't make the same mistake twice.

Zhao Wenguang glanced around and, seeing that everyone at the next table was talking and drinking tea, paying no attention to them, lowered his voice and said, word by word:

"Old Wu's precious grandson was caught gambling outside by the police. He'll be detained and fined."

"As luck would have it, his grandson is getting married soon. The bride price, furniture, bedding, banquet—everything costs money. He has a mountain of expenses, and if he doesn't sell things, he simply can't fill this hole."

After listening, Li Jing'an picked up his teacup and took a small sip.

it is good.

That's wonderful. Karma.

"Walk."

Li Jing'an didn't ask any more questions. He put down his teacup, stood up, and did so swiftly and decisively.

"Let's go take a look."

Zhao Wenguang was overjoyed and quickly paid the bill, then followed Li Jing'an out of the teahouse.

The two walked along the frozen, hard pavement, turning into a quiet, secluded alley. Old Wu's house was at the very end of the alley, a small, detached courtyard with low walls, clearly an old family that had once been wealthy but had now fallen on hard times.

The courtyard gate was ajar.

Zhao Wenguang stepped forward and gently tapped twice.

"Old Wu, open the door. It's me, Zhao Wenguang."

The door creaked open.

Old Wu poked his head out and saw that it was Li Jing'an. His expression stiffened slightly, looking somewhat unnatural and embarrassed, but he quickly put on a smile and ushered the two of them into the courtyard.

"Hey, Comrade Zhao, Comrade Li, please come in, please come in."

Old Wu knew in his heart that he had made Li Jing'an come for nothing last time, so he inevitably felt a little guilty when they met.

As soon as the three sat down, Old Wu didn't say anything more. He sighed, got up, opened the old wooden box, and carefully took out two cloth bags.

Layer upon layer were opened, revealing two ancient scrolls.

He slowly unfolded it.

A landscape painting, with rich and vibrant brushstrokes, conveying a profound and distant artistic conception;

A painting of flowers and birds, simple yet striking, with an imposing presence.

Zhao Wenguang immediately moved closer, his eyes wide with astonishment.

He makes a living from cultural relics; he can tell at a glance whether something is valuable or not.

He first touched the paper, then looked at the signature, seal, brushstrokes, patina, and even carefully examined the texture of the painting. He looked at it for the time it takes to smoke half a pipe before slowly straightening up, turning to look at Li Jing'an with a solemn expression, and nodding slightly.

The voice was kept extremely low, so that only Li Jing'an could hear it:

"Director Li, don't worry, both of them are genuine."

"One painting by Shen Zhou, one by Bada Shanren, both are of authentic quality and in perfect condition; they are very rare to find on the market."

Li Jing'an stood to the side, never moving forward or saying much, simply watching calmly.

But in his heart, he already knew perfectly well what was going on.

Both of these are top-quality pieces.

Zhao Wenguang turned around, looked at Old Wu, his expression turned serious, and got straight to the point:

"Old Wu, what's the price? We're all acquaintances, so let's not beat around the bush or overcharge."

Old Wu rubbed his hands together, a troubled yet reluctant expression on his face:

"This...this has been passed down from generation to generation in my family. If I hadn't had no other choice, I really wouldn't have been willing to move it..."

"It's no use being reluctant," Zhao Wenguang interrupted him bluntly. "If you go to an antique shop, you might not even get two hundred for both pieces combined. We're here to help you out, not to rob you."

Old Wu's face turned pale and then red.

He knew in his heart that Zhao Wenguang was telling the truth.

After some haggling and back-and-forth, a deal was finally struck:

Shen Zhou's painting sold for 300 yuan.

Old Wu gritted his teeth and agreed to sell only this one piece.

Three hundred yuan is enough to pay the fine, pay for my grandson's wedding, and get me through this hurdle.

As for the other painting by Bada Shanren, he refused to let go of it no matter what, wanting to keep it as his last possession.

Li Jing'an did not force him.

Some things cannot be accomplished in one step.

Fishing should be done slowly, and nets should be retrieved slowly.

He asked Zhao Wenguang to help roll up the painting, wrap it tightly in cloth, and carry it in his hand; it was quite heavy.

After leaving Old Wu's house, as soon as they reached the alley entrance and found no one around, Li Jing'an took out ten yuan from his pocket and stuffed it directly into Zhao Wenguang's hand.

"Thank you for making the trip. Here, have some tea."

Zhao Wenguang immediately smiled so broadly his eyes narrowed into slits, repeatedly declining, "Oh, Director Li, you're too kind, we're all on the same side..."

"Take it." Li Jing'an's tone was calm, but brooked no refusal. "I'll come to you again next time something like this happens."

Zhao Wenguang immediately pocketed the money, patted his chest, and assured him, "Don't worry, Chief Li! If there's anything good, I'll tell you first! I won't give it to anyone else!"

Li Jing'an nodded slightly, then casually asked another question:

"Besides these two paintings, does Old Wu have anything else in his house?"

Zhao Wenguang's eyes immediately lit up, and he lowered his voice:

"Yes! It definitely exists!"

"That old rascal is cunning! Every time he goes to an antique shop, he only buys one item, hiding it better than anyone else! Let me tell you, his ancestors were a wealthy family back in the day, they had tons of good stuff! Calligraphy and paintings, porcelain, bronzes, miscellaneous items, at least a whole box of them!"

Standing in the cold wind, Li Jing'an stared at the tightly closed door of Old Wu's house, a cold light slowly gathering in his eyes.

The wealth and resources plundered from the people by our ancestors.

They hoard a bunch of national treasures, enjoying their wealth while hiding them away, only taking them out to exchange for money when they encounter difficulties.

What is his current status?

District People's Congress Representative.

Represent the people.

These things should rightfully return to the people.

He had to find a way to help the people get their things over there.