Chapter 59
Chapter 59: Disciple, Young Master Yan’s VIP Private Room
The girl’s beauty was striking—crescent eyes naturally curved at the corners, yet not a trace of warmth in them.
When her gaze swept over, it felt deep and unfathomable.
Sheng Yun Yi’s pupils tightened. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t convince herself that the person in front of her was Ye Wan Lan.
Two years ago, when she was still studying in the Xing Man Federation Empire, she’d heard from friends almost immediately: Zhou He Chen had taken a stand-in.
At the time she hadn’t cared. Painting was what mattered. Other people’s affection was a tool—something to climb with. Only by securing her position in the Sheng Family could she truly feel safe.
Two years later, after returning, she still hadn’t once taken Ye Wan Lan seriously.
In the Jiang circle, top families weren’t places someone from a small background could squeeze into. Even Sheng Yun Yi’s assistants had better pedigrees than Ye Wan Lan.
So when had it started?
When had Ye Wan Lan begun to feel like a threat?
When the Qin Family was extorted for 50 million?
When Fang Qing Ya was sent to detention?
Sheng Yun Yi’s instincts had always been sharp. But now, for the first time, she felt a fear she couldn’t name.
“Miss Ye… why are you here?” Sheng Yun Yi kept her smile, but her eyes kept circling Yan Ting Yue. “And who is this?”
Yan Ting Yue wore a mask and hat, dressed plainly—almost rustic.
Sheng Yun Yi hesitated, yet her certainty only grew: Yan Ting Yue was not ordinary.
Her smile remained gentle. “Miss Ye, won’t you introduce her? There’s no need to be so distant.”
Ye Wan Lan didn’t answer. She simply withdrew her gaze and walked inside with Yan Ting Yue.
Teacher and disciple ignored Sheng Yun Yi from start to finish.
Sheng Yun Yi’s smile froze.
She wasn’t used to being overlooked. The sensation pricked like needles against her skin, and sweat dampened her palms.
Zhou He Chen finished giving the driver instructions and turned back, only to find Sheng Yun Yi standing alone, dazed.
“Why are you standing here?” He frowned. “Did the staff give you attitude?”
“No.” Sheng Yun Yi steadied herself and smiled softly. “I was just surprised. I saw Miss Ye go inside.”
She tilted her head as if amused. “Since when is Miss Ye interested in traditional painting? He Chen, that’s a good thing. It means she finally wants to improve.”
Even as she said it, the dread in her chest only thickened.
Zhou He Chen laughed—briefly, coldly. “You think she wants to improve?”
During the two-year stand-in contract, he hadn’t even allowed Ye Wan Lan to touch him, much less have any intimacy. To him, that would have been disloyal to Sheng Yun Yi.
And he knew Ye Wan Lan: three days of enthusiasm, then bored. The only reason she ever forced herself to learn anything was because it matched his interests.
But she never had the talent. She always ended up as a poor imitation.
Improvement?
More like she’d learned he liked Sheng Yun Yi—and Sheng Yun Yi was skilled in painting—so she thought learning to paint would win his favor.
Just like before, she must have asked around for his schedule and followed him here.
Haunting him again. Unwanted. Persistent.
“He Chen,” Sheng Yun Yi said quickly, “don’t say that. I just… don’t know who Miss Ye came with, or how she—”
A layer of frost settled over Zhou He Chen’s eyes. “Yun Yi. Don’t mention her.”
How did she get in?
Using her looks to cling to a new branch.
He didn’t want to go inside and see Ye Wan Lan right now. It would only ruin his mood.
—
Inside, under the guidance of staff, Ye Wan Lan and Yan Ting Yue were brought to the VIP guest lounge.
“Senior Yan!”
A middle-aged man hurried over, face alight with excitement. “I invited you so many times and you never came—who would’ve thought you’d finally show up? It’s been too long. How have you been?”
“Good. Good.” Yan Ting Yue patted Ye Wan Lan’s hand. “Little Jiang, let me introduce you. This is my disciple.”
The man’s smile cracked with shock. He glanced at Ye Wan Lan, stammering. “Y-you took a disciple?”
Something this big—and the Yun Jing Art Association hadn’t heard a word?
“Yes,” Yan Ting Yue said, smiling. “Fate arrived.”
She turned back to him. “You said you wanted to discuss Kun Qu Opera’s development. What is it?”
“It’s important,” the man said carefully. “It may take a long time.”
Yan Ting Yue looked to Ye Wan Lan. “A Lan, will you come with me, or…”
“Teacher, you go ahead,” Ye Wan Lan said with a small nod. “I’ll look around. I want to see the paintings.”
Later generations called her the founder of Yong Ning School, but in truth her painting had never belonged to a single style.
“All right.” Yan Ting Yue’s voice softened. “Go. If anything happens, contact me.”
“You can contact me too,” Little Jiang added immediately, thrusting his phone number toward her.
Yan Ting Yue’s disciple was no ordinary person. He needed to secure his place early.
Ye Wan Lan exchanged numbers with him, said goodbye to Yan Ting Yue, and stepped into the exhibition halls.
There weren’t many visitors. Most guests, after being guided inside, had gone straight to their lounges first.
The galleries were quiet—perfect for studying the works.
And then a bright, overly cheerful voice shattered the silence.
“Classmate Ye? What are you doing here? What a coincidence!”
Ye Wan Lan turned and raised an eyebrow. “It really is.”
Every time she ran into Rong Yu, she couldn’t help worrying about the Tai Su Lineage—worried its inheritance might end with him.
“Not a coincidence,” Rong Yu said, waving his hand. “Didn’t I tell you last time? My brother really likes Princess Yong Ning.”
He gestured at the exhibits. “And this show is all Yong Ning School works. He was definitely coming.”
On the other side, Yan Ting Feng stood with an easy grace, his eyes curved in a faint smile—clean, clear, almost harmless.
Ye Wan Lan’s thoughts drifted.
She truly did reread the records of the Ning Dynasty’s fall every day, carving history into memory.
Seven days.
In those seven days, the Six Great Sects and the princely ranks of the four directions had died to protect the Shen Zhou continent.
On the seventh day, bones fell by the million. Corpses piled into mountains. Blood turned the land into a sea.
And yet the record of Shen Xiao Tower contained only a single line:
After the nine lords within died in battle, the Shen Xiao Tower lord vanished without a trace.
History never recorded everything. But three hundred years later, even with scholars digging through the past, not a scrap of reliable information had surfaced.
What role the Shen Xiao Tower lord played after the war with Wan Jun Zhi remained an unsolved mystery.
“Since I ran into you two,” Ye Wan Lan said, returning to herself, “I brought gifts.”
She took out two sachets. “One each.”
Yan Ting Feng held out his hand.
Ye Wan Lan placed the sachet in his palm. He closed his fingers gently, as if trying to preserve the warmth left behind.
Rong Yu caught sight of the embroidery and nearly yelped. “Su Embroidery?! Since when do you have Su Embroidery?”
Su Embroidery’s lineage had been broken so badly it was on the verge of disappearing. It had even been listed by the World Intangible Heritage Center as an endangered intangible heritage project.
“It’s a product my company is making,” Ye Wan Lan said, as casual as if she were talking about bottled water. “We’ll expand production soon.”
“We’ll expand production?” Rong Yu’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You know an intangible-heritage Su embroidery artisan? But I remember a few years ago—”
“Su Embroidery is too precious to let it die out,” Ye Wan Lan said, smiling.
“Miss Ye speaks wisely,” Yan Ting Feng said softly.
His gaze stayed on the sachet in his palm, the faint smile deepening.
Then he slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat.
“The gifts are delivered,” Ye Wan Lan said. “I’ll keep looking.”
She nodded once and headed toward Hall Two.
Rong Yu watched her go, awed. “Brother, this is insane. Classmate Ye sometimes says wild things, but her execution is terrifying. Maybe one day Su Embroidery really will be sold nationwide and shine again.”
Yan Ting Feng didn’t answer. He only gave Rong Yu a quiet look.
“No! Absolutely not!”
Rong Yu immediately stuffed his sachet behind his back. “I’m Classmate Ye’s psychological counselor. She gave that to me. You can’t just steal it!”
He’d said it a thousand times—being overly possessive was a disease. It needed treatment!
“You lack Su Embroidery?”
“I don’t lack it—I lack the thought behind it!”
Yan Ting Feng’s voice was light. “I lack only that thought as well.”
“It’s not the same!” Rong Yu argued. “She gave you one because you helped her—and you’re her patient. She gave me one because I’m her doctor.”
Yan Ting Feng considered that, then said mildly, “I’ll trade you Oracle Jade Bone for it.”
Rong Yu: “…”
“…Fine. Take it.”
Su Embroidery was rare, but Oracle Jade Bone was an antique with no market price.
He’d wanted it forever. Yan Ting Feng had never once given it up.
And now he’d traded it for a sachet?
Rong Yu still felt like he was dreaming.
Yan Ting Feng calmly took the second sachet and tucked it away, then continued walking as if nothing had happened.
—
An hour later, Ye Wan Lan had finished viewing paintings in three halls.
As long as Shen Zhou’s people lived, inheritance wouldn’t end. Traditional painting was no different.
“Miss Ye?”
A voice sounded behind her.
Ye Wan Lan turned, calm and unreadable.
“Miss Ye,” Sheng Yun Yi said, surprised to find her still there, “there’s an auction soon. Everyone else has already gone upstairs. Why are you still here?”
She softened her tone. “Do you not have a private room? If you’d like, you can come to mine. You’re familiar with He Chen, too—it won’t be awkward.”
Zhou He Chen stood at the doorway of the private room, silent, looking down at Ye Wan Lan as if she were beneath his notice.
“I don’t know you,” Ye Wan Lan said coolly. “Never met you. Move.”
“Miss Ye,” Sheng Yun Yi said gently, as if she were sincerely concerned, “if you don’t go in, what if you’re asked to leave? Once the auction begins, you can’t view the exhibition anymore. Come inside.”
Zhou He Chen’s voice cut like ice. “Yun Yi, don’t waste words on her. Have her removed—”
“Miss Ye,” a new voice called out, interrupting him. “Why aren’t you coming up? The tea is ready. If it cools, it won’t taste as good.”
The voice came from the only VIP private room on the second floor.