Chapter 28: The Boundless Treasure

Zhong Huayan carefully examined the inscription on the silver ingot. “Put this thing somewhere with better light—I can’t see it clearly.”

The people on the other side of the video hurriedly moved the object outside, revealing a view of farmland in the background.

The comment section instantly became a frenzy.

[That’s just a hunk of iron, isn’t it? Looks rusty to me.]
[Are these grandpas and grandmas really trying to get an appraisal for a brick?]
[Switch to something else, please. The video quality on the other side is terrible. What kind of phone are they using? It’s all blurry.]

Zhong Huayan suddenly lowered her voice. “Grandpa, where did you find this thing?”

“Just in the river next to our village. Last night I saw a few people sneaking around—I thought they were stealing vegetables. But when I ran over, they each dropped one of these bricks.”

“Grandpa, this isn’t a brick—it’s a silver ingot from Zhang Xianzhong’s Jiajing era. This is sunken silver from the riverbed, a priceless treasure! I’ve taken a close look; it’s real.

But we can’t keep something like this. Artifacts of this caliber, if sold illegally, can land you decades in prison.

Those sneaky people weren’t stealing vegetables—they were treasure hunters, and what they’re doing is against the law. Grandpa, is there a protected heritage site anywhere near your river?”

Suddenly, the number of live viewers skyrocketed, jumping from twenty thousand to forty thousand in an instant, and virtual gifts started pouring in.

The old man was clearly frightened, stammering, “We don’t really know… Maybe there’s a heritage site up ahead. A few years ago, they made it a protected river area. So what should I do with this thing now?”

“Go to your local police station right away—they’ll send someone over. In this day and age, this isn’t a treasure, it’s a burden. Whoever keeps it will suffer for it. It’s probably some desperate criminals behind this.”

“Thank you, young lady.”

After the video ended, the comment section was overflowing.

[Lucky to witness real riverbed silver live! And it’s from Zhang Xianzhong’s era!]
[So the stuff in novels is true after all—there really are artifact thieves.]
[You’re amazing! Much respect!]
[How can you tell if it’s real or fake in an instant if you’ve never seen the real thing?]
[This must be staged. There’s no way real riverbed silver would show up in a livestream—what are the odds?]

Zhong Huayan ignored most of the comments.

She continued to connect with the next video caller.

This time, a beautiful woman appeared. She didn’t speak but flipped the camera to show a small skull—teeth on both sides dropped into the jaw, empty bone in the middle.

“Teacher, is this the skull of the fastest land animal?”

Zhong Huayan was startled. “You… you’re playing with fire here… No, but it is a big cat.”

“Oh. I’ve asked many people, but no one’s sure. It’s hard to identify.”

“Do you only have the skull?”

The woman nodded.

Zhong Huayan took a sip of tea. “You’re abroad, aren’t you?”

“I’m in a place known as the land of cacti. This was given to me by a friend who works in the poppy fields.”

Beside the woman sat a foreign man—they seemed to have a collection of such things.

Zhong Huayan quickly ended the video, then said, “There are a lot of these things abroad, but we won’t appraise foreign items here. By the way, if anyone wants to sell their antiques or curios, feel free to join my livestream—I do buy valuable items.”

She updated her stream’s title to [Free Appraisal + Buying Valuable Antiques]!

She went on to appraise many more items, most of which turned out to be fake.

After streaming until noon, she logged off.

She’d earned five thousand yuan today—probably thanks to the hype from the riverbed silver segment. Her follower count had now surpassed one hundred thousand, and her account had even been followed by the local police's official account.

When she entered the dining room of the old house, she was struck by how beautiful the place was—a classic Chinese style, with a deep green screen for privacy, a square rosewood dining table, neat and orderly.

The spread was dazzling: Western white truffles, Scottish lobster, edible gold leaf; Eastern mutton hot pot, classic Hunan dishes, spicy Sichuan cuisine, and more…

Fu Yanyan, usually aloof and imposing, was now wearing an apron, patiently simmering soup.

The servants treated her with even more deference than they did Fu Yanyan.

He never wore gold or silver jewelry, yet just standing there, pristine and upright, he exuded incomparable elegance and nobility.

“Hey, something’s up with our third today—he made all this?”

The old man came in, marveling at the sumptuous feast.

Even as a child, Zhong Huayan could sense that his bearing was innate, not the mark of someone born into poverty. As it turned out, he was Fu Hongxue’s nephew.

“What are you doing here?” Fu Yanyan took off his apron and placed the finished soup on the table, for once a little hesitant as he asked.

“Why shouldn’t I be here? Are you afraid I’ll say something unpleasant and scare her?”

Fu Yanyan leaned in and whispered, “Old man, if you keep leaving that willow switch at the front door, I’ll put it outside Grandma’s room and tell her you—”

“All right, all right, enough. That willow switch is nonsense. I’ll have a stern word with the servants.”

Zhong Huayan quickly pulled out a chair, very politely. “Grandpa, please have a seat. I’ve seen your paintings before—they truly reflect your name: majestic, vibrant, as pure as spring snow.”

The old man was clearly surprised. For someone only in her twenties, she carried herself with such poise and insight.

“Not bad. Young lady, what’s your name?”

“My name is… Li Yanyan.”

The old man repeated it to himself—Zhong Huayan, Li Yanyan… “Ah, what a coincidence! The names are so similar. I like listening to you, young lady. As for our third, I can’t stand a word he says.”

Fu Yanyan breathed a silent sigh of relief, quietly pulling out the seat beside her.

He even made sure napkins and the soup were placed right in front of her.

“This is your favorite—winter melon and pork rib soup.”

She was a little taken aback.

She’d grown up with lavish banquets and rare delicacies, but had fallen in love with winter melon and pork rib soup by chance. After that, she’d pestered the housekeeper to make it daily. She never expected he’d remember even this.

He had prepared every dish according to her tastes, which were so eclectic that most people had trouble pleasing her palate.

The three of them sat down to eat. Fu Yanyan wasn’t much of a talker; he just busied himself serving her, peeling and arranging each dish she pointed to with meticulous care.

She’d imagined that, with his current status, he’d be impatient, but instead he was tireless, barely taking a bite himself.

The old man looked at his nephew and thought, doomed—he’s just like me; once he gets married, he’ll be henpecked for life.

“Young lady, which of my paintings is your favorite?”

The old man, still impressed by her earlier words, was eager to chat—so rarely did he meet someone this learned.