Chapter 13: The Manor of Burial

“No, thank you for the invitation, Mr. Fu. I have other matters to attend to—perhaps next time.”

Xu Yaochuan’s fox-like eyes glinted with amusement. He stepped forward eagerly, inviting, “Miss Li, why not come to the Xu residence? We have plenty of antiques as well—come and give them a look?”

She gritted her teeth. “I’ll wait until Young Master Xu is dead, then it won’t be too late for me to visit.”

Xu Yaochuan stifled a laugh. He simply found her amusing and took it as a joke. A woman without any backing saying such things to him—he could only see it as a bit of affected bravado.

The atmosphere throughout the room was tense; everyone was silently wondering whether they’d just made a mistake by confronting this young woman.

“Miss Li, didn’t you just say your dream was to see all the world’s treasures? I haven’t been to the Xu estate, but I’ve had the privilege of visiting the Fu family’s home. It’s truly dazzling there, with everything you could imagine!”

Everyone chimed in, trying to persuade her to accept Fu Yanyan’s invitation.

“No need.”

She spared no one a shred of consideration, turned on her heel, and left.

The pipa’s music still trembled in the background as she exited the elevator. Outside, only receptionists and greeters lingered.

She turned a corner into the restroom, and when she emerged, she was adjusting her hair at the sink.

Suddenly—

Her vision went black. Someone covered her mouth and eyes, leading her down a narrow passage.

Then, she was bundled into a car.

Only once inside did someone slowly peel the tape from her mouth.

“Who are you? You dare kidnap me in public? Who sent you?”

The car rolled forward slowly. A calm, steady voice broke the silence.

“Remove her blindfold.”

Her hands and eyes were finally freed. Furious, she spat, “Fu Yanyan! You’re shameless—resorting to kidnapping now? I’m calling the police on you!”

The man before her wore a white Zegna cashmere shirt and black trousers. His tousled hair brushed his brows, lending a lazy air to his ascetic coolness. From the side, his nose was straight, his gaze deep. While seated, he leafed through a financial tome, exuding a maturity untouched by the world’s dust.

He seemed to have anticipated her outrage and appeared especially composed, closing his book and putting on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

“Call the police? You still owe me several million. Haven’t repaid it yet.”

“I will pay you back! Even if I haven’t, that’s no reason to kidnap me! I’ll report you and see if your reputation is worth anything!”

Fu Yanyan rather admired her spirit.

He gestured lightly to the bodyguard in the passenger seat.

“I never instructed anyone. The person who just kidnapped you—he acted on his own.”

She suddenly fell silent.

The car’s interior shifted from noisy to still in an instant.

His gaze landed on the pale skin of her neck, and he spoke, his tone abrupt, “You’re still angry with me?”

She reflexively touched her neck, replying coolly, “Don’t worry. You’re not that influential.”

“You should stay away from Xu Yaochuan.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that.

“You can get close to him, but I can’t?”

“Watching you with that face near Xu Yaochuan—it bothers me.”

With that, Fu Yanyan said no more, opening his book again.

Outside, the night was ablaze with city lights as the car entered a scenic district and turned a corner.

The villa’s lights gleamed layer upon layer, and by the lake stood a small pavilion from which you could see a famous pagoda.

Even at night, the lotus blooms exuded a light, fresh fragrance.

“How elegant... such beautiful scenery,” someone murmured.

“No landscape, however exquisite, can bring her back.”

He placed the book down, his voice low and hoarse. The butler opened the door, and Fu Yanyan stepped out.

Zhong Huayan quietly pondered those words.

No scenery, however beautiful, can bring her back?

So he’s a man of deep feeling?

It was a pity—before she nearly died in the fire, she’d never loved anyone.

Her only worry was whether the Zhong family would fall into his hands and suffer mismanagement, whether those impoverished relatives would lose their allowance, whether the family’s reputation would be tarnished.

In the end, her stupidity was apparent; those she worried about were the very ones who wanted her dead.

Zhong Huayan noticed that everyone in the estate, from the butler to the servants, treated her with the utmost respect. At the first sight of her, their eyes widened in astonishment, as if they’d seen something extraordinary.

Entering the villa, she was awed. Across seven acres, the mansion brimmed with rare treasures, even artifacts from the Warring States period preserved in vacuum cases—the ancient relics exuding a musty air even through the glass.

She approached a late Qing dynasty embroidered butterfly shoulder cape, encased in glass. Its aura was pure, the blue and gold embroidery entwined, the edges undulating like waves.

The techniques—knotting and gold-thread embroidery—were exquisite, flawless and clean. The shoulders were adorned with two butterflies, and at the fastening hung delicate golden bells, their colors vibrant and striking.

“If you like, you’re welcome to try it on.”

Fu Yanyan was about to shower; the butler trailed behind with his pajamas, and the servants had already drawn his bath.

He spoke lightly, adding, “There are bodyguards outside—don’t try to run, or you might get hurt by mistake.”

She had a passion for collecting antiques, and these items had, just three years ago, been abroad—those foreigners unwilling to let them go. Yet now, Fu Yanyan had brought them back.

Truly, after overcoming innumerable hardships, these treasures had finally returned home.

Zhong Huayan donned a pair of white gloves, opened the display case, and draped the late Qing shoulder cape over herself.

The servants watched, transfixed. Any other woman would have feared damaging such a priceless artifact, but on her, it seemed perfectly fitted—if anything, the treasure felt unworthy of her.

Zhong Huayan took out her phone, called her eldest brother to chat and let him know she was safe.

Then, wandering alone, she soon found herself somewhere unfamiliar.

Looking to her right, she noticed a peculiar room. There was a lock on the door; she tugged at it, and it opened—someone had entered earlier and forgotten to relock it.

The heavy lock clattered against the door, the sound echoing through the spiral-shaped villa.

She tiptoed inside and switched on the light.

Instantly, she was startled—fortunately, she’d already died once; otherwise, the sight might have terrified her senseless.

A rosewood coffin glowed with an eerie blue light, lidless. White gardenias adorned both sides, like the paper flowers used in mourning.

Someone was being commemorated here?

She thought back—when she’d first seen this estate, what had it reminded her of?

The whole villa was shaped like a coffin. She’d found the architecture odd at the time!

So all these treasures were meant as burial goods for whoever lay in this coffin?

No scenery, however beautiful, could bring her back.

Zhong Huayan’s intuition had always been sharp.

Her foster brother had surpassed her wildest imagination—not destroyed by silence, but warped by it.

What came next left a deep psychological scar.

The coffin was filled with ice. Below, an eerie blue light—who knew what kind of black technology—illuminated the body. The skin, burned in the fire and then repaired, was still wrinkled, but the face was preserved, even ruddy, likely maintained daily by a mortuary artist.

She was certain—because the corpse was her own.

When she didn’t wear makeup, her face was bluish. But the corpse lay there, serene and pale.

“What are you doing?”

The man’s voice was cold. He’d just reached the doorway, his hair still wet from the shower, water dripping down, his eyes dark and forbidding.