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墨書 Inktalez
Fatty had managed to avoid the thunder, and it seemed no one knew about it. The few people who had gone with him to Ground-Digging noticed that Fatty didn’t bid, merely expressing their doubts without confirming whether that Qinghua Bowl was indeed a monster. However, now that Fatty had come forward himself, it was a different matter. This landmine was buried deep; one would need real skill to uncover it. As a result, Fatty gained notoriety, at least catching the attention of Wen, the Shopkeeper.
The person who had been humiliated by Fatty at Ground-Digging initially planned to vent his anger but wilted upon hearing this news. Moreover, he had broken the rules first and could no longer mix in the local Antique Circle. After being discharged from the hospital, he vanished, with reports of him being seen around Changsha.
My Sand Table Model was delayed because each Protrusion required a mold, and I had strict requirements for size and proportion. I often had to visit the molding workshop to verify dimensions, which kept me busy and away from the shop. It became increasingly difficult to meet with Fatty; I didn’t even know if he was still in town or had gone elsewhere. Sometimes I had to ask Huang Hai just to find out where Fatty was.
As time passed into the following spring, I looked at the Sand Table Model taking shape and felt secretly pleased, estimating that this project would be completed by early summer.
Chunren easily grew fatigued. I stared at the Sand Table Model, which increasingly resembled a super maze. Most of the images of earth mounds on the wall had been taken down, leaving only a few unfinished model pictures pinned up.
Outside the sand table, Huang Hai lounged in a pearwood armchair, dressed in a silk jacket with a straight collar, fastened all the way down to his neck. His hairstyle had changed to a slicked-back look, though unfortunately, his hair was sparse enough that his scalp was visible through the gaps, which often left him feeling disheartened.
He was fortunate that his boss took good care of him—not only providing him with an upscale outfit but also granting him a share in the business. This made him often act like he was my boss. In our battles of wits, I found myself thoroughly defeated; despite his frail appearance, he possessed remarkable resilience and stamina.
If you splashed him with something, he wouldn’t even flinch; he’d just respond with something like: “Brother Gang will fly back soon.”
Whenever Fatty returned, Huang Hai would complain vigorously about me as if I were not just his boss but his own father.
Fortunately, he no longer watched me while I slept, allowing me to relax during those moments; otherwise, he might have driven me to madness.
Just as my vision blurred and I began to feel drowsy, I heard a voice as crisp as a Green Mango. Don’t ask me why; when I heard that voice, what came to mind was this: a fresh and enticing Green Mango adorned with a glistening droplet of water.
“Excuse me, are you Mr. Zhang Jianqiang?”
My eyelids shot open. Under the gentle spring breeze around noon, dim light filtered into the shop where a girl with long hair stood sideways at the door, her gentle face turned toward Huang Hai. The light illuminated her figure, outlining her graceful silhouette.
The shop had lights but they were dim; they reflected off her white blouse adorned with blue floral patterns. Her full chest stretched the blouse tightly. The hem of her blouse was tucked into her jeans, creating an elegant curve between her flat abdomen and slightly raised hips. A pair of white low-top sneakers revealed pink socks that were two fingers wide at the ankle—her ankles were delicate. She appeared to be about five feet five inches tall.
"Her legs are so long," I muttered under my breath, feeling a bit dry in the throat.
The girl had long hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, without bangs. Her profile revealed a delicate and straight nose, full and inviting lips, and beneath long eyelashes, her clear eyes held a hint of sadness.
A wave of dizziness washed over me; it was the adrenaline kicking in. Damn, she was a perfect ten.
Sitting in the pearwood armchair was Huang Hai, staring blankly at the girl in front of him, his mouth slightly open to reveal a row of large gold teeth, drool trickling down from the corner of his mouth to his chin.
From where I stood, witnessing this scene of beauty facing off against Huang Hai sent a chill down my spine. I silently shouted in my mind: "You’ve got the wrong person, beautiful. The one you’re looking for is right here."
Wasn’t this just ruining my image?
I cleared my throat forcefully, but Huang Hai's lecherous gaze remained glued to the girl. Fortunately, she sensed something was off and turned to give me a questioning look. Yes, those were eyes that could speak—clear and bright, piercing straight to the soul.
I gently calmed my racing heart as I walked over. "I’m Zhang Jianqiang. Are you looking for me?"
I believed this was the first time I had been so proactive in responding to a customer. Most people who came to see me were from out of town, often referred by peers. After all, my discerning eye was quite sharp, especially when it came to hard porcelain. This girl definitely wasn’t local; I could tell by her accent.
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly in a smile, her expression relaxing. It seemed Huang Hai had put a lot of pressure on her, instilling fear about meeting this appraisal master she sought. I cursed Huang Hai silently in my mind.
"My name is Xiao Ting. I’m Xiao Guolin’s daughter."
As soon as those words reached my ears, the name Xiao Guolin began to swirl in my mind, flooding me with various pieces of information and guesses: Was this the person Xiao Guolin wanted me to look after? Was she here now to fulfill that promise? No, back then things were complicated; there was an element of entrustment involved—there was no reason for her to come knocking after all these years. Something must have happened to Xiao Guolin!
Ultimately, reason triumphed over hormones as I arrived at the most plausible conclusion. My expression turned serious as I steadied my tone and asked her, "What happened to Xiao Guolin?"
Xiao Ting's eyes turned red. "My dad hasn't come back. None of them have returned."
After she said this, I noticed her biting her lip tightly, desperately trying not to cry. She was such a strong girl.
In this situation, I couldn't ask her anything. I led her into the shop and had her sit down at a workbench near the sand table, pouring her a glass of water.
Xiao Guolin hadn't come back; I didn't need to think hard to know where he had gone. Moreover, I understood that if he hadn't returned, it was possible he might never come back. The problem was that the letter Xiao Guolin left me was from over half a year ago. It had been half a year already—what did Xiao Ting want from me? Had there been an accident recently? That didn't make sense; they would have avoided the season when sandstorms ravaged the Desert Archaeology site. The last time we were so careful, we still couldn't escape misfortune; they were even less likely to act during the spring storm season.
Another point was that I had to be low-key and cautious in my actions. Over the years, I had been investigating this matter alone, trying my best to avoid overlapping with official investigations in terms of timing. Furthermore, for excavation work, I needed to collaborate with local archaeology teams; my studio didn't have the authority to excavate ancient sites independently. I didn't believe Xiao Ting was an official representative; she was more likely here on personal business. If that were the case, what could I do?
I fell into deep thought.
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