Chapter 62
Chapter 62: Jaw-Dropped, Sister Lan Busts a Fake
“A Lan, I’m truly sorry.”
Yan Ting Yue spoke as she removed her hat. “I asked you to accompany me to a painting exhibition, and instead I ended up neglecting you.”
“Teacher, you’re too kind,” Ye Wan Lan said, unbothered. She smiled faintly. “Your work matters more. Our goal is the same—to revive Kun Qu Opera.”
“Sit, sit. Don’t be formal with me.”
Only then did Yan Ting Yue notice the two people at the table.
Rong Yu sprang up so fast he nearly knocked his chair over. His mouth hung open, his face broadcasting a single thought:
No way.
How could Yan Ting Yue’s disciple be Ye Wan Lan?
“Little Rong?” Yan Ting Yue’s brows lifted in surprise. “And… Little Yan?”
Yan Ting Yue’s memory was frighteningly good. Someone like Yan Ting Feng—his looks and bearing—was unforgettable after a single meeting.
“So you’re A Lan’s friends,” she said warmly.
At the same time, Rong Yu and Yan Ting Feng spoke.
“The teacher Miss Ye mentioned is you?!”
Yan Ting Yue looked merely surprised.
Rong Yu looked like he was about to pass out.
Ever since his last visit, when he learned Yan Ting Yue had accepted a disciple, he’d been desperate to know who she was. He had run through every Yun Jing family in his head—every young master and young lady with the right background and training.
None matched.
He never imagined the answer would land on him like this, with no warning.
“Aunt Yan,” Yan Ting Feng said, his smile gentle. “We meet again. How was the tea I brought you last time?”
“Yes, we meet again.” Yan Ting Yue nodded quickly. “The tea was excellent. You must have devoted a lot of effort to cultivating it.”
Yan Ting Feng’s smile deepened. “If Aunt Yan likes it, I’ll have someone send a few more crates.”
“Crates?” Yan Ting Yue startled. “Little Yan, that’s too extravagant. I’m not picky. There’s no need to waste money.”
“It’s not a waste,” Yan Ting Feng said softly. “Just a small token. It’s nothing.”
Yan Ting Yue caught it at once—Yan Ting Feng’s attitude toward her had warmed. It wasn’t just polite anymore. She thought for a moment, then looked at Ye Wan Lan, her eyes widening slightly.
So that was it.
Rong Yu finally found his voice. “Y-You… how do you even know Kun Qu Opera? It doesn’t make sense. You just don’t match Kun Qu Opera at all!”
He simply couldn’t picture a girl who sang opera also kicking over tables and moving with that kind of ruthless decisiveness.
Ye Wan Lan passed the menu back to the attendant, eyebrow raised. “You never asked.”
Learning Kun Qu Opera tempered the heart, steadied the mind, and refined the spirit. What was so strange about that?
“I… This…”
Rong Yu stammered until he ran out of air, then dropped his forehead onto the table with a dull thump.
He shut down.
Yan Ting Yue laughed until her shoulders shook. “I was worried this meal would make me uncomfortable. I live alone and rarely meet strangers. But if we’re all acquaintances, then it’s perfect. Eat, talk—whatever you like. My treat.”
When the dishes arrived, Rong Yu finally recovered enough to complain. “Aunt Yan, you nearly killed me. If you’d hinted even once, my heart wouldn’t have taken such a hit.”
“Little Rong,” Yan Ting Yue teased, “why are you still like this? It’s time to grow up. How’s your grandfather lately?”
“That old man is doing great,” Rong Yu said. “He’s stronger than I am. He even got invited to the Northern Continent to be a judge for a spirit-medium show. He went off smiling like a kid.”
“That’s good,” Yan Ting Yue said, relieved.
Then she remembered the morning’s chaos and sighed. “I heard the auction sold an authentic Princess Yong Ning piece—three hundred million. That’s a huge number, but for Princess Yong Ning’s work… it could be worth it.”
“Teacher,” Ye Wan Lan said, placing a peeled shrimp into Yan Ting Yue’s bowl, “that painting was fake.”
“The imitation was skillful,” she added calmly. “Worth three or four hundred thousand.”
“Fake?” Yan Ting Yue gasped. She didn’t doubt Ye Wan Lan for a second—only the situation. “Then the auction house’s people in charge will all be held accountable.”
“They’re already tracing the painting’s source,” Yan Ting Feng said, voice cool. “Using junk to impersonate a national treasure is unforgivable.”
Yan Ting Yue sighed. “That war back then… we lost too many relics. Too many were destroyed, too many stolen.”
Rong Yu brightened, eager to lift the mood. “Aunt Yan, something happy—my master only agreed to be a judge because the Northern Continent offered three Shen Zhou relics to invite him.”
“That is happy,” Yan Ting Yue said, smiling again. “One day, we’ll bring everything home.”
Ye Wan Lan lowered her lashes.
Three hundred years ago, Shen Zhou had been in collapse. The Xing Man Federation Empire seized the chance to loot countless antiques.
The Northern Continent and Shen Zhou had once been allies, friendly in trade and diplomacy. But a palace coup changed everything—when the new emperor took the throne, he severed the relationship and followed the Xing Man Federation Empire’s lead, scavenging treasure as well.
Only in recent years had Shen Zhou risen again. It hadn’t reclaimed its former glory, but it was no longer something anyone could dismiss.
Ye Wan Lan came back to herself. “Teacher, please keep an eye out for antiques as well. I want to restore the Mystic Iron Gold-Thread War Armor of the Prince of Yan first.”
“Restore the Mystic Iron Gold-Thread War Armor?” Yan Ting Yue frowned. “That won’t be easy. They say it shattered into thousands of pieces. Finding the fragments alone may be impossible.”
“All right. Thank you.” Ye Wan Lan paused, then spoke quietly, without softness. “This relic matters to me. If you need anything, you can ask.”
The Prince of Yan had no remains, not even a grave. The armor was the only recorded thing he had left behind.
“I need…” Yan Ting Feng’s eyes flickered. He laughed under his breath. “I’ll ask Miss Ye later.”
Rong Yu leaned toward him, voice low and mischievous. “You didn’t expect it, did you? Miss Ye is Aunt Yan’s disciple.”
Yan Ting Feng’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t.”
“I can tell,” Rong Yu said, delighted. “You even said you weren’t interested before. Want me to help Miss Ye—”
Yan Ting Feng’s smile stayed gentle. His voice turned softer still. “Forget that sentence. Or I’ll use a method to make you forget.”
Rong Yu went rigid. “…Got it.”
After the meal, Ye Wan Lan stood to escort Yan Ting Yue back to the mountains.
Yan Ting Yue waved her off. “I can go myself. You gave me half your day. Hurry home.”
“Aunt Yan, I’ll walk you out,” Rong Yu said quickly. “I want to tell you more about my master.”
Yan Ting Yue didn’t refuse this time. “All right. Let’s go.”
The two left together.
Yan Ting Feng coughed twice, a light sound that still drew attention. “I’ll take Miss Ye back to River City.”
—
Two hours later, Ye Wan Lan returned to the Lin Family residence.
She pushed the door open and found a stranger sitting in the living room.
Lin Wen Li tilted his chin at the man on the sofa, his voice flat. “He’s here for you. Arrived at eight.”
“Miss Ye.” Fang Qing Han rose smoothly. “I finally caught you.”
He had waited here all morning.
Ye Wan Lan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to thank you.” Fang Qing Han’s tone remained courteous. “That painting I bought from you last time—turns out I got a bargain. I felt guilty, so I wanted to invite Miss Ye to the Fang Family for a visit.”
Ye Wan Lan lifted her eyes. “A bargain? In what way?”
“That painting helped Fang Family secure a partnership,” Fang Qing Han said with a bitter smile. “My mother insists on meeting you and thanking you personally. And I’d also like to discuss calligraphy and painting with you.”
Others could believe the rumor that Ye Wan Lan had simply stumbled onto that painting. He never had.
“Interesting,” Ye Wan Lan said. “I’ll go.”
She glanced at Lin Wen Li. “Wen Li, I’ll be back tonight. Tell Uncle and Aunt.”
Then she left again.
Fang Qing Han personally poured her tea when they arrived at Fang Family.
“Please wait, Miss Ye. My mother will be back soon.” He set the cup in front of her. “Please.”
“You’re polite,” Ye Wan Lan said, taking a sip. “This tea…”
“It’s a variety carefully cultivated by the Yun Jing Tea Center,” Fang Qing Han explained. “My grandfather and mother both love tea. My father brought back a crate from Yun Jing. If Miss Ye likes it, I can give you a few boxes.”
“No need,” Ye Wan Lan said, setting the cup down.
The fragrance was fresh, but the taste still didn’t compare to what Yan Ting Feng prepared.
“Brother! Brother, come out!”
Fang Qing Ya’s bright voice burst in from outside. “I brought Yun Yi over. Do you know what He Chen bought her? A Princess Yong Ning painting worth three hundred million!”
The words Princess Yong Ning painting sharpened Fang Qing Han’s focus—then drew his brows together.
A sale that big, and he hadn’t heard a whisper?
“Yun Yi, come let my brother see it,” Fang Qing Ya urged, dragging Sheng Yun Yi in. “Yours is the real Princess Yong Ning work. It’s way better than that three-million painting by some later painter.”
“Qing Ya,” Sheng Yun Yi said gently, “don’t say that. Princess Yong Ning founded the Yong Ning school. No one can compare to her.”
Ye Wan Lan drank her tea in silence.
Then Fang Qing Ya’s gaze landed on her.
“Ye Wan Lan?” Fang Qing Ya’s face twisted with shock and fury. “Why are you in my house? Who let you in? Steward—throw her out!”
“Fang Qing Ya.”
Fang Qing Han’s voice went cold. “You just got out of detention and you’re already acting up again. What did I tell you?”
“Brother, I—” Fang Qing Ya’s outrage wavered into disbelief. “You’re scolding me for her?”
Fang Qing Han’s patience snapped. “Apologize.”
“Never!” Fang Qing Ya flared. “Brother, I kindly invited you to see Princess Yong Ning’s painting. Can the one you bought from her compare?”
Ye Wan Lan set her cup down. “Three hundred million for a fake painting. Of course it can’t.”
“The auction authenticated it and you’re calling it fake?” Fang Qing Ya laughed, furious. “Who do you think you are—Princess Yong Ning? Did Princess Yong Ning personally tell you she never painted it?”
Ye Wan Lan’s eyes stayed calm. “What do you know?”