Zhuo Yu Feng Yang Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Night Talk at Debao Xuan, Old Case, New Clues

As dusk settled, Jiang Zhuo stepped into Debao Xuan, walking under the halo of the streetlights.

A small table of dishes had already been set up inside the shop: savory braised meats with a rich soy aroma, refreshing smashed cucumbers, and a sealed jar of rice wine. Wang Youde was squatting behind the counter opening a package. Seeing Jiang Zhuo enter, he immediately rose with a smile: “You finally made it! We were just waiting for you to open the jar.”

Lu Chen had already arrived. He was sitting by the table, examining the agarwood prayer beads, his black trench coat casually draped over the back of the chair. The coldness in his eyes and brows had softened slightly.

Jiang Zhuo walked over and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the table: “Quite the hospitality.”

“It’s a must!” Wang Youde cracked open the clay seal on the rice wine jar, and a rich, mellow fragrance immediately wafted out. “Today is a great day. That scoundrel Scarface Qi has been taken down. The Antique Street can finally enjoy a few days of peace.”

The three filled their cups. Wang Youde raised his first: “Come, a toast to both of you! If you hadn’t worked together, we wouldn’t have caught Scarface Qi so quickly.”

Jiang Zhuo and Lu Chen clinked cups. The wine went down smoothly, carrying a warm sweetness.

After a few cups, the conversation flowed freely. Wang Youde smacked his lips and lowered his voice: “When Scarface Qi was arrested, he kept shouting ‘Brother Hu.’ This Brother Hu, I’m afraid he’s connected to Elder Zhou’s case from three years ago.”

Jiang Zhuo paused, looking up at him: “How so?”

“Three years ago, Elder Zhou was authenticating a remnant scroll of the Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains painting for someone, and the buyer was Brother Hu’s man.” Wang Youde poured himself another cup, his voice dropping even lower. “Later, the remnant scroll was determined to be a fake, and the buyer caused a scene at the Municipal Cultural Relics Bureau. Elder Zhou fainted right there. I was present at the time, and I vaguely saw Brother Hu’s man whispering with Scarface Qi in the corner, but I had no proof.”

Lu Chen set down his cup, his fingertip lightly tracing the rim: “Brother Hu is a man who never leaves loose ends. He must have paved the way for that case long ago. Elder Zhou was just a scapegoat.”

Jiang Zhuo recalled the brown paper envelope given by the old man at Jubao Pavilion. In the notes inside, Elder Zhou repeatedly mentioned “the remnant scroll has a hidden layer” and “the ink color is unusual,” but he suffered a stroke before he could investigate further. It seemed the secret within that remnant scroll was the key to unlocking everything.

“How do you plan to handle Brother Hu?” Jiang Zhuo asked Lu Chen.

Lu Chen looked up, a cold glint flashing in his eyes: “He targeted my people and is involved in Elder Zhou’s case, so I certainly won’t let it go. But there’s no rush. First, we’ll figure out his background, then deliver the fatal blow.”

Wang Youde nodded repeatedly from the side: “Mr. Lu is always so thorough. This Brother Hu has considerable influence; half of the East City antique black market is under his control. Going head-to-head would be disadvantageous.”

The three chatted for a while longer, and the topic gradually shifted from business to everyday life. Wang Youde suddenly remembered something and looked at Lu Chen: “Mr. Lu, last time you mentioned your younger brother is coming back from abroad soon? The young master who likes to follow the old madam around the antique markets?”

A rare, faint curve appeared at the corner of Lu Chen’s mouth, softening his stern features slightly: “Yes, his flight is next weekend. The old madam has been talking about taking him to the South City Antique Exchange Fair, saying she wants him to broaden his horizons.”

Jiang Zhuo’s heart stirred slightly. He also planned to attend the South City Antique Exchange Fair.

“Your brother’s personality is truly worlds apart from yours,” Wang Youde chuckled, shaking his head. “You are ice, and he is fire. The last time I saw him was five years ago, holding a porcelain doll and chattering away behind the old madam, saying he wanted to be an appraiser when he grew up. He had the old madam beaming.”

Lu Chen’s fingers unconsciously rubbed the peace buckle on his wrist—a piece of fine mutton-fat jade engraved with the character “Yang.”

“The old madam spoiled him,” his voice held a hint of imperceptible indulgence. “He’s restless, but he genuinely loves antiques. It’s just that his eye for them is still lacking; he’s always being tricked into buying fakes.”

“What was the young master’s name again?” Wang Youde patted his forehead.

“Lu Jingyang,” Lu Chen said flatly, his tone carrying a mix of helplessness and pride. “He studied cultural relic restoration abroad. Now that he’s back, he’ll probably be pestering the old madam to spend all their time on Antique Street.”

A strange sense of anticipation suddenly arose in Jiang Zhuo’s heart. This name, so different from Lu Chen’s coldness, truly sounded like a warm ray of sunshine capable of melting winter snow.

The night deepened, and the rice wine jar was empty. Wang Youde, flushed from the drink, began rambling about old stories from Antique Street. Lu Chen took a phone call, and the softness in his brows faded, returning him to his stern, cold demeanor.

“A call came in from home. I’ll take my leave first.” Lu Chen stood up, picked up his trench coat, and looked at Jiang Zhuo. “If there’s any progress on Elder Zhou’s case, contact me immediately. We might run into each other at the exchange fair.”

Jiang Zhuo nodded: “Alright.”

Lu Chen pushed the door open and left. The evening wind blew in with a chill, fluttering the Xuan paper on the table. Jiang Zhuo watched his retreating figure disappear at the alley entrance, suddenly remembering the peace buckle engraved with “Yang” on Lu Chen’s wrist.

Lu Jingyang.

He quietly repeated the name, the corner of his mouth curving up unconsciously.

Perhaps the exchange fair in South City would indeed be very interesting.

Wang Youde was still rambling, but Jiang Zhuo wasn’t really listening. His gaze was fixed on the night outside the window.

The waters of Antique Street ran deep, but there were always some things that could pierce through the layers of gloom, like warm sunshine.

Jiang Zhuo picked up his cup and drank the rest of the wine in one gulp.

The sweetness of the rice wine, mixed with a faint bitterness, spread across his tongue.

The road ahead was long. He would wait for the wind to rise.