Chapter 74
Chapter 74: The Mysterious Lin Family, Meetup in Progress
Professor Yuwen rarely used chat apps. He was busy from dawn to dusk, with no time for idle chatter.
The only reason he’d kept the app all these years was because he’d been waiting for one thing: the day a certain avatar in his contacts would light up again.
And now, it had.
Even though YN had told him last time she wouldn’t disappear again, Professor Yuwen still couldn’t shake his fear. He ended his meeting at the Global Center as fast as possible and rushed back to Shen Zhou without stopping.
[YN]: Isn’t tomorrow a little too fast? If you come to River City, as the Eastern Dao Lord I should treat you to a meal. Meeting at school feels too simple.
[Professor Yuwen]: Fine. We’ll do as you say.
Reading that reply, Ye Wan Lan started thinking about what gift to prepare for Professor Yuwen.
“A Lan,” Lin Huai Jin said, still sounding like his mind hadn’t caught up, “what exactly happened today? That Spirit-Congealing Grass… you found it?”
“Mhm.” Ye Wan Lan lifted her gaze from her phone. “My deskmate happens to work in that field.”
She paused, then added softly, “Uncle, please don’t be angry. To maximize our benefit today, only Grandmother and I knew.”
Lin Huai Jin fell silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Angry? How could I be angry? I’m happy. Truly happy.”
In the rearview mirror, he could see the girl’s eyes—deep blue, quiet as an ocean.
Those eyes came from Lin Jia Yan. Father and daughter looked as if they’d been carved from the same mold.
A clear-headed kind of madness. Bold enough to frighten anyone.
But twenty years had passed.
Why was there still no sign of Lin Jia Yan?
Alive or dead—no one knew.
“By the way,” Lin Huai Jin said, forcing himself back to the present, “you’re going to school and running a company. Aren’t you exhausted?”
He frowned. “Your grandmother said you’ve been preparing products related to Su Embroidery recently?”
“Yes.” Ye Wan Lan nodded. “I’ve already brought in a batch of machines. After obtaining Xu Lin Jiang’s Su Embroidery techniques, I used them for programming.”
Her tone stayed matter-of-fact. “We’re producing simple items in large quantities—sachets, fans, ornaments. In about half a year, they’ll enter the market.”
Of course, machine work could never truly match the soul of handwork.
Wan Tian Qing Company’s focus wasn’t mass production. It was cultivating intangible cultural heritage artisans—and creating high-end custom garments.
Shen Zhou didn’t lack skill, and it didn’t lack luxury goods. When it came to luxury, Shen Zhou stood at the top.
But Shen Zhou lacked a luxury brand that could fight head-on in the international market against the three global giants: Jadica, Freya Enid, and Celes.
She had to fill that gap.
Ye Wan Lan smiled faintly. “My general manager is very responsible. With her handling things, I don’t have to worry about the small matters.”
“That’s good.” Lin Huai Jin’s voice softened. “If anything happens, don’t bottle it up. If you need help, tell Uncle.”
He exhaled. “From start to finish, we’re family.”
Something trembled in Ye Wan Lan’s chest. She pressed a hand to her heart, where a sour ache spread so fast it nearly swallowed her.
How could she not know?
The Transmigrator stole four years from her life and hurt everyone who loved her—without restraint.
And yet when she returned, Lin Huai Jin still accepted her.
She hadn’t come back to nothing.
“Uncle,” Ye Wan Lan asked quietly, “do you know anything about the Lin Family main house now?”
Three hundred years ago, she’d been friends with Lin Fan Yin—the final Heavenly Music Workshop sect master—and with Lin Wan Ci, her senior sister.
After the Heavenly Music Workshop disciples died in battle, the surviving families changed their surnames to Lin in their memory. That was how the Lin Family came to be.
Yun Jing was far from River City. Even with 999 extra years, Ye Wan Lan knew almost nothing about the Lin Family main house.
“No,” Lin Huai Jin admitted, shaking his head. “But it feels like a dangerous place. Otherwise your grandmother wouldn’t avoid it so fiercely.”
Ye Wan Lan’s tone stayed light. “That’s fine too.”
Lin Huai Jin blinked. “Fine?”
“Cleaning house for old friends,” Ye Wan Lan said, smiling. “If my road is nothing but obstacles, I’ll open fire.”
Lin Huai Jin sighed. “You always say things that sound mysterious. Uncle can’t follow.”
He shook his head. “But the main house… sooner or later, we’ll have to go back. Some things have to be faced.”
It was only a matter of early or late.
—
At the same time, in a different car parked in a garage—
“Hello—yes, yes, it’s me. I’m Little Luo.”
Sir Luo covered his phone and spoke carefully, panic thick in his voice. “I’m truly sorry. I didn’t expect them to actually produce Spirit-Congealing Grass. The quality was terrifyingly good. I got played by some yellow-haired girl!”
He’d been cautious. Extremely cautious. And yet he still fell into Ye Wan Lan’s trap.
Losing money hurt, but worse—he hadn’t completed the task assigned by someone from the Lin Family in Yun Jing.
“They really produced Spirit-Congealing Grass?” The voice on the other end belonged to a young man. He sounded skeptical. “Where did it come from? Are you lying?”
“Absolutely not, sir!” Sir Luo nearly begged. “How would I dare lie to you? You could end my life with a flick of your finger. Lin Wei Lan’s granddaughter nearly sent me to the police station.”
“Lin Qin?” the young man asked, disinterested.
“No, no,” Sir Luo said quickly. “Her surname is Ye. Ye Wan Lan.”
“Lin Wei Lan’s granddaughter,” the young man repeated, “but not surnamed Lin?”
His interest evaporated. “Understood. This isn’t entirely your fault. We’ll compensate your losses.”
Sir Luo’s face lit up. “Thank you, sir. But the Global Center—”
“We’ll take over that as well,” the young man said coldly. “We won’t let Lin Wei Lan connect with them so easily.”
His voice sharpened. “You can get lost.”
The call ended.
The young man put away his phone and walked through a garden corridor until he reached a pavilion.
A folding screen stood inside. Behind it sat a guqin.
A pair of long, pale hands rested on the strings, but the master’s face remained hidden.
“Lin Wei Lan produced Spirit-Congealing Grass and made contact with the Global Center,” the young man reported respectfully. “In the short term, she’s even less likely to return to the Lin Family.”
He hesitated, then asked, “What should we do next?”
“Oh?” The person behind the screen laughed softly, unbothered. “As expected. She’s been gone for over forty years. Stubborn as she is, how could she survive that long without some methods?”
“But Solitary Gloom Qin is very likely in her possession!” the young man said, anger slipping through. “That belongs to the main house. What right does she have to take it?”
“There is no evidence,” the hidden master said calmly. “Do not speak carelessly.”
The tone remained indifferent. “Solitary Gloom Qin is important. But compared to that matter, it is not worth mentioning.”
The young man didn’t dare ask further. He’d been confused for years.
What matter?
The master didn’t explain. Instead, the hands moved.
The guqin strings were plucked.
A crisp note rang out—then another. The air itself seemed to tremble, a column of force shooting forward like a hidden weapon.
Crack.
A man-sized stone shattered, fragments exploding across the ground.
The young man stared at the debris, cold sweat prickling down his back. He took an involuntary step away.
So this was the legendary musical art that once shook Jiang Hu.
Only Lin Family direct-line members knew what the history books never recorded—how Lin Fan Yin, the Heavenly Music Workshop sect master, had once used Formation-Breaking Tune to slaughter countless enemies with a flick of the fingers.
“Clean up the pieces,” the master said.
Then, almost casually: “Tomorrow, I want to see one exactly the same.”
“Yes,” the young man said quickly.
He crouched to gather the fragments, hands trembling as he picked them up.
—
The next day, No. 7 High School in River City.
Finals were only a week away. The students were grinding themselves into dust.
Ye Wan Lan was explaining history questions to her classmates.
“Classmate Ye explains so well. It’s vivid. You actually make history interesting.”
“I read too many novels. At this point I’m convinced Classmate Ye came from ancient times. She talks like she saw it with her own eyes.”
“We absolutely can’t let the physics classes steal our Wan Lan!”
Over the past two days, they’d already chased off multiple students from Class 2 and other physics classes who’d come carrying notebooks and begging for help.
“Yes,” Ye Wan Lan continued, recalling as she spoke, “Princess Yong Ning once came to River City with Imperial Tutor Han Yun Sheng to manage the floods. Back then, River City wasn’t called River City yet. It was called Jiang Huai…”
The classmates listened, hooked.
Then someone burst out eagerly, “So… do you think Imperial Tutor was handsome?”
“Just the name sounds handsome!” someone else said. “And the important part is he was capable.”
“Wasn’t Imperial Tutor said to be from Penglai Mountain? People from there are practically immortal—if he wasn’t strong, he couldn’t teach Princess Yong Ning.”
“Wan Lan,” someone urged, “what do you think?”
Ye Wan Lan paused, then answered tactfully, “Probably… handsome.”
As long as Han Yun Sheng didn’t curse her out and call her drawings trash, he was handsome.
Otherwise, no matter how stunning his looks or aura, she didn’t particularly want to see him.
The bell rang. The classmates reluctantly returned to their seats for chemistry.
Meanwhile, the principal’s office welcomed an unexpected visitor.
Professor Yuwen couldn’t suppress his excitement. The moment he landed, he rushed straight to No. 7 High School in River City.
When the principal’s assistant led him in, the principal was still working at his desk.
He looked up—and nearly snapped his chair in half.
“Y-You—you…”
The principal stuttered, tongue tied. “Y-You are that—that…”
He wanted to slap himself.
Why did his mouth always fail him at the crucial moment?
“Yuwen Ming Bo,” Professor Yuwen said pleasantly, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The principal shook it as if he’d been granted an honor he didn’t deserve. He finally forced out, “You’re… that Professor Yuwen who teaches physics!”
The moment the words left his mouth, the principal wanted to sink into the floor.
Professor Yuwen waved a hand, unconcerned. “No time for small talk. Bring me your best physics student. I have something to tell her.”
He was confident. The YN he knew would be the best at physics anywhere.
“The best at physics?” the principal echoed, momentarily stunned.
Then he grabbed the phone and called his assistant. “Go to Class 1. See if Classmate Ye is there. Ask her to come over.”
Professor Yuwen sat down, pulled out his thermos, and took a satisfied sip of tea.
He was going to give her a huge surprise.