Nan Zhenming and Wen Meiling were so shocked their eyes nearly popped out of their heads. They understood every word Grandpa said, but when strung together, it somehow made no sense to them.
Nan Sangning helped the He Family select collectibles? She knew how to play the pipa? Old Madam He invited her over as a guest?!
Grandpa patted Sangning’s shoulder, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "How do you know about antique collectibles? And the pipa? You never mentioned any of this before."
Even in her records, not a single word had been written about it.
Sangning replied, "I met a wandering monk in the mountains. Since I often gave him rice and flour, he took me as his disciple and taught me many things. But they were just miscellaneous skills, so I didn’t think they were worth mentioning."
Grandpa nodded solemnly. "Why didn’t you say so earlier? We should’ve invited that master for a meal at home."
"He traveled around constantly. Last year, he left for another place. There’s no way to find him now."
The explanation sounded absurd, but there was no other plausible reason for Nan Sangning—raised in the countryside with barely any schooling—to know how to appraise antiques or play the pipa.
The truth didn’t matter much to Grandpa anyway. What he cared about was the outcome.
Grandpa sighed regretfully. "What a shame."
"The He Family is the most prestigious aristocratic family in Jing City. For Old Madam He to take a liking to you is a stroke of fortune. You must make the most of this opportunity to build a closer relationship." His tone was earnest, as if entrusting her with a great responsibility.
Sangning nodded. "Don’t worry, Grandpa. I will."
Nan Zhenming and Wen Meiling’s expressions shifted dramatically. Never in their wildest dreams had they imagined that their daughter, abandoned in the countryside, would have such luck!
They had assumed she was nothing but an embarrassment.
The sudden turn of events left them with a bitter mix of emotions.
Nan Zhenming’s heart raced. For the Nan Family, the He Family was an unreachable pinnacle. Yet now, they had invited his daughter as a guest!
This was the perfect chance to forge ties with the He Family!
If the He Family were willing to give the Nan Family even the slightest opportunity, the benefits would be immeasurable.
Clearing his throat, Nan Zhenming stepped forward, his tone softening. "Old Madam He is kind-hearted. When you go, be sensible and make sure she likes you."
Nan Siya’s face stiffened. She watched in disbelief as her father, who had just defended her, now turned to flatter Nan Sangning?
Sangning’s expression remained unchanged. She answered calmly, "Don’t worry, Dad. I will."
Blood ties meant nothing in the face of profit.
Playing along was second nature to her by now.
Wen Meiling opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but Nan Siya clung to her arm, eyes red as if clutching her last lifeline.
Wen Meiling’s heart softened. Not wanting to upset Nan Siya, she swallowed her words. Still, her gaze lingered on Sangning, filled with complicated emotions.
Grandpa affectionately patted Sangning’s shoulder. "Alright, go rest early. Don’t let tomorrow’s important matter be delayed."
"Okay."
As Sangning turned to go upstairs, her eyes briefly met Nan Siya’s—red-rimmed and brimming with venom.
She couldn’t care less. If anything, she found it laughable.
After twenty years in the Nan Family, Nan Siya still didn’t understand them. Did she really think the Nan Family valued kinship over profit?
All the love she fought so hard to monopolize—what was it worth when interests were at stake?
Nothing but self-deception.
Grandpa shot a displeased look at Nan Siya, now a tearful mess. "Crying over a man all day—what kind of behavior is that?"
Nan Siya stammered, "I—"
Grandpa had no patience for excuses. "If you dare disturb the household again in the middle of the night, all of you can get out!"
Nan Siya bit her lip and lowered her head. "Yes."
The next morning, Sangning dressed simply in a plain white dress, her soft hair cascading down her back. Since she was meeting an elder, she opted for a gentle, obedient look.
Uncle Zhang waited by the car. She got in, and they set off for the He Family Old Mansion.
Leaning against the window, Sangning watched the scenery blur past—the bustling city gradually giving way to quiet, cobblestone alleys.
"This place is so serene," she remarked.
Uncle Zhang chuckled. "Of course. This isn’t just anywhere—only the elite of the elite live here."
Sangning admired the low courtyard walls, the wildflowers by the roadside, the towering ginkgo trees. Sunlight filtered through the leaves as birds chirped overhead. It was her favorite spot since arriving in this era.
The car stopped before a small courtyard, its gate already held open by a servant.
Stepping out, Sangning saw morning glories climbing the walls. Inside stood a quaint Western-style house, exuding warmth and tranquility.
A servant approached with a smile. "Miss Nan."
Sangning nodded slightly. "I’m here to see Old Madam He."
"This way, please. The madam is expecting you."
Following the servant inside, Sangning heard the strains of a pipa—Spring River Flower Moon Night.
"Madam, Miss Nan is here," the servant announced softly.
Old Madam He set down her pipa and looked up, smiling. "You’re here. I’ve been waiting."
Sangning stepped forward. "Old Madam He."
The old woman gestured for her to sit. "Siyu told me you helped pick out this pipa. I never expected someone so young to understand such things."
At the He Family’s birthday banquet, she had taken an instant liking to this girl. When He Siyu mentioned she’d also selected the pipa, Old Madam He immediately invited her over.
"I’m not an expert. Mr. He just trusted my judgment."
"Don’t be modest. I know that boy—he may seem carefree, but he’s no fool."
Sangning silently agreed. He wasn’t an easy man to deal with.
"This mother-of-pearl sandalwood pipa… Siyu’s grandfather always wanted it. He loved collecting antiques, especially from the Zhou Dynasty. This pipa was renowned then but disappeared for years until it resurfaced recently. Siyu bought it at once."
Old Madam He’s voice carried nostalgia.
Sangning smiled. "Mr. He is very filial."
The old woman huffed. "Only when it suits him."
"..."
"I heard you play well. I’ve only just started—my clumsy fingers do this treasure no justice. You try."
Handing over the pipa, Old Madam He watched as Sangning cradled it.
Sangning lowered her head slightly, fingers resting on the strings. With a light pluck, clear, mellifluous notes filled the air.
At noon, a black Bentley pulled into the courtyard.
A servant blinked in surprise. "The third young master is back?"
He rarely returned at this hour—and he’d just visited yesterday. Normally, he wouldn’t come again for at least half a month.
He Siyu stepped out, shutting the car door casually. "Where’s Grandma?"
"Inside. Miss Nan is here."
"Oh."
He Siyu strode inside, dressed in black trousers and a black shirt—tailored yet exuding a roguish charm. His towering frame filled out the outfit like a suited enforcer.
As he entered the small building and pushed open the door, the airy, emotive notes of a plucked instrument greeted him.
A young woman in a white dress sat with her back slightly turned to him, cradling a pipa in her arms. Her delicate fingers danced over the strings, her left leg crossed over her right, the hem of her long skirt hitching up just enough to reveal slender calves and an ankle so fine it seemed made to be held.
Her head was slightly bowed, soft hair cascading over her shoulders. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on her face—she seemed to radiate purity.
Sensing his gaze, she lifted her eyes—translucent as glass—and met his in an unguarded moment.
