Chapter 26

Chapter 26

A petty man enjoying his moment of success is still better than being at someone else’s mercy.

Qu Yixian freed herself from Fu Xun’s grip and sat up. Her eyes immediately landed on the big white rodent whose tail was sticking out from Fu Xun’s hoodie: “What is this thing, all head no tail? What exactly is it?”

The tail twitched, shifted, and a head emerged.

Qu Yixian’s gaze froze as it locked directly with its eyes.

“Ferret.” Fu Xun raised his hand; as soon as it reached the ferret, it obediently stepped onto this “elevator,” letting Fu Xun scoop it into his arms.

Now Qu Yixian could see clearly.

…Indeed, it was a white giant rat, an elongated and thicker version.

Perhaps disliking strangers, the ferret stayed in Fu Xun’s arms for a moment, nudged its head gently, found a small gap, and slipped back into the sleeve on its own.

Qu Yixian couldn’t believe it.

She had just been ambushed by this cute little thing? And lost her ground because of it!

…Wasn’t this a bit humiliating?

But now was not the time to figure out how to “cook” this thing.

Rubbing her sore wrist, she glanced at Fu Xun and said, “I’m not familiar with Xiang Xiaolong.” Implying, she knew him.

“Are you looking for him for revenge or for family ties?” Qu Yixian asked.

Fu Xun tugged at the corner of his lips, smiling coldly: “Do I have a throne to inherit? Why would I look for family ties?”

True enough.

With such a huge fortune, who would care about family ties—they’d rather keep it all.

So, Fu Xun is looking for him for revenge?

Qu Yixian’s mental abacus clicked loudly, but her face remained calm: “Here’s the deal. I can’t betray him directly; I’ve already carried one life—I can’t take another. You have to tell me first: what’s your purpose in finding Xiang Xiaolong?”

“You can also choose to lie to me,” Qu Yixian added, “but if I catch you, I swear, we’ll never make peace in this lifetime.”

Fu Xun didn’t respond.

Not everything could be dictated by Qu Yixian; he never liked being passive.

He looked steadily at her for a few moments.

The car had no light source; all the illumination came from the lone lamp in the parking lot. Whether due to the strong wind or loose screws, the lamp swayed as if it could fall at any moment.

The light inside the car flickered with it, making her eyes shine like stars in the dim glow.

——

Fu Xun was an expert in cultural relic appraisal. The barrier to this circle wasn’t particularly high, but it wasn’t low either.

Some novices set up stalls at tourist spots, selling small antique trinkets—little shop owners, tricking those even less knowledgeable to make a living.

Those barely qualified to enter the circle couldn’t even be called “masters,” only antique appraisers, usually inspecting small items at auction houses or pawnshops.

The next level up, they could be called antique appraisers proper. This level was considered inside the cultural relic appraisal circle, with salaries ranging from five thousand to over ten thousand, divided into grades. The senior level was called a first-grade appraiser; there were no lower official grades—second or third grades sounded awkward, so nobody used them.

Fu Xun’s circle started from first-grade appraisers and went upward. It was similar to the Beijing film circle—members were mostly fixed. Occasional newcomers appeared, but most were apprentices.

Just like Fu Xun apprenticed under Fu Wangshu, many antique appraisers took apprentices, passing down skills: gemstone appraisal and processing, painting and calligraphy appraisal, cultural relic appraisal and restoration, classical literature studies.

Divided into categories, each with its own progression.

Fu Xun hadn’t taken apprentices, but he became famous young and was Fu Wangshu’s only son—his influence was considerable with both sides’ networks.

The antique circle was deep; those without insight could easily get scammed. Anyone reaching first-grade appraisal obviously had talent. The more authoritative members could spot treasures even through gaps in their fingers. Lower-tier underlings struggled to climb upward.

Fu Xun had plenty of followers handling tasks under him.

At the end of June, he received a tip from a Dunhuang pawnshop informant: the item he had been pursuing for years had appeared.

He had someone investigate, and the trail ended with Xiang Xiaolong.

Before Xiang Xiaolong went off the radar, the only traceable contact was Qu Yixian.

After passing through the hands of two intermediaries, the information had been slightly distorted by the time it reached him.

The final message Fu Xun received was: the person who led Xiang Xiaolong to three antique appraisal shops was a young woman. Unfortunately, the video screenshots were too blurry to make out the license plate.

So he came personally.

The treasure he sought was a piece of hard currency that had been taken, worth several million. More valuable than the monetary worth was its significance. It was the coming-of-age gift from Fu Wangshu. Even if lost, he would spare no effort to retrieve it, especially since it had been stolen.

At first, he hadn’t expected it to be Qu Yixian. When he traced it back to the Xinghui motorcade leader, he had a vague sense of unease.

The Xinghui motorcade was founded solely by Peng Shen and was the most experienced team on the Northwest loop. The more famous the brand, the better the business.

Fu Xun had no connection to the motorcade and didn’t know how it operated. Occasionally, he heard Peng Shen mention that the team rarely took outside jobs, like airport pickups or charter trips. Even if he didn’t restrict the team, few outsiders would get hired.

He knew why.

Because the Xinghui motorcade, besides its tour services, also ran a rescue team. Most of the team members kept free time available for rescue missions.

Fu Xun sponsored equipment and allocated rescue funds, rarely interfering in the rescue team’s operations. Only Peng Shen would report significant internal changes or new equipment purchases to him.

Additionally, after every rescue—successful or not—Peng Shen would send him a briefing.

Qu Yixian’s abnormal behavior made Fu Xun choose a wait-and-see approach for his first strategy in handling this matter.

He approached, observed, probed, and laid groundwork for today’s frank discussion over a long time.

——

“I can’t be fully transparent,” Fu Xun leaned against the seat, relaxed: “What I can tell you is that Xiang Xiaolong has dirty goods.”

“I won’t take advantage of you, nor deceive you.” His gaze deepened. “If you help me find Xiang Xiaolong, I’ll help you find Jiang Yuan.”

“I have no grudge with Xiang Xiaolong. He owes a debt to someone else. I’m just reclaiming what’s mine—others will hold him accountable,” he said, once again gripping the back of her neck, twisting her toward him: “Rest assured, Xiang Xiaolong’s life is not yours to carry.”

Causality couldn’t be explained fully. Behind Xiang Xiaolong were life-and-death legal matters.

Explaining would drag in a heap of people and events—too much to finish or clarify at once. Just as Qu Yixian was unwilling to bring up Jiang Yuan, he too had matters he didn’t want to discuss.

If it wasn’t necessary, then he wouldn’t mention it.

How the item was stolen wasn’t for discussion either.

Those involved were already deceased. Reopening old matters would only add stigma. He dealt with appraisals, handled artifacts, and avoided disturbing peace with rumors.

That was his purpose.

He set the stage, letting everything fall into place naturally, pushing the situation toward cooperation with Qu Yixian.

Qu Yixian frowned, staying silent in the backseat.

It was rare; she spent so much time with this car, yet this was the first time she had sat in the back.

Fu Xun’s conditions were tempting, and precisely because they were tempting, they carried enormous uncertainty.

Regarding Jiang Yuan, she had long passed the initial urgency and could now calmly think through things.

“I can’t answer you immediately,” Qu Yixian said, furrowing her brow. The massive information load tonight required her to first process, organize, and then consider other possibilities.

Fortunately, Fu Xun didn’t expect an answer right away; that would have been unreasonable.

He nodded and said only two words: “As soon as possible.”

Suddenly, the situation was settled. What needed to be said had been said, questions asked, knowledge exchanged. The car fell silent, leaving a faint awkwardness…

A man and a woman, alone in the same car.

Not to mention that earlier near-fight—just thinking about it was a bit indecent.

Qu Yixian realized belatedly and felt embarrassed, but Fu Xun remained still. She couldn’t just abandon the car. After a moment’s thought, she cleared her throat: “Alright, meeting adjourned.”

Fu Xun paused briefly, then smiled, low and husky: “Meeting adjourned? With the way you lured me in, that doesn’t seem like just a simple meeting.”

Whenever he provoked, Qu Yixian bristled.

She met his gaze coldly, the corner of her lips lifting in a faint, ambiguous smile: “I’ve always been rough in my actions. Any objections?”

“None.” His voice lowered, almost blending into the wind: “But a few more times, and you might not hold up.”

Qu Yixian didn’t catch that: “What did you say?”

Fu Xun lightly patted her head, ending the topic: “Let’s go.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a beam of intense white headlights appeared from the hotel corner. The high beams shot straight around a curve from the corner.

Hearing that familiar engine sound, Qu Yixian’s expression changed instantly.

Seeing Fu Xun already open the car door, her body reacted before her brain. She lunged to cover his hand with hers, forcefully slamming it against the car door.

Fu Xun’s hand went cold. Before he could react, Qu Yixian had pinned him firmly back into the rear seat.

In her panic, she executed another chokehold, pressing him against the seatback.

The headlights shone into the car, frozen.

Qu Yixian, too, seemed frozen, easing her breath and slowly sliding down.

Fu Xun studied her, a hint of realization in his eyes, and curled his lips: “Yuan Ye is back?”

Qu Yixian snorted in reply.

If she let Fu Xun go now, forget about face—she’d lose all dignity. What would Yuan Ye and Jiang Yun think of her?

Though she didn’t rely on her looks for a living, she couldn’t afford to be “shameless.”

She tightened the arm around his neck, low and warning: “Don’t move.”

Behind them, the sound of two car doors slamming echoed.

Yuan Ye exclaimed, footsteps approaching: “Qu, why did you just leave the car parked here?”

Jiang Yun’s nose was red from the cold. She tucked her hands into her coat, covering her chilly, red-tipped nose, muttering indistinctly: “Did she go ask Brother Fu for help?”

Yuan Ye circled the car, gradually nearing the back seat.

Fu Xun slid down with Qu Yixian in his arms, moving completely out of sight by the window.

He lowered his head, letting out a soft “shh.”

Qu Yixian didn’t dare move. She huddled in Fu Xun’s arms, ears perked, constantly listening for any sound outside.

Yuan Ye’s footsteps stopped at the rear car door, as if standing for a moment, then seemed to peer in through the window. The car’s insulation was good; all they could hear was the whistling wind.

Jiang Yun bounced closer: “Is the car locked? Pull it open and check.”

Qu Yixian’s heart jumped into her throat.

She was so tense her breathing nearly stopped, her throat like a torn bellows—air she inhaled just escaped through the gap. Her lungs felt empty, like a leaky bottle, never able to fill.

She gently took two breaths.

Before she could even catch the third…

The ferret pressed against her in Fu Xun’s arms poked out its head. Two bright, alert green eyes stared unblinkingly at Qu Yixian.

…

…

…

What are you looking at, little bastard!

She secretly glanced upward.

From this angle, she couldn’t see the car window clearly, nor Yuan Ye outside.

Fu Xun, annoyed by her movements, covered the back of her head and pressed her into his chest.

His palm was warm, fingers sliding from the back of her head to her neck, habitually giving a slight pinch.

Qu Yixian instantly: “…”

Breath caught, head spinning, heart racing, and for some reason, an intense craving for ferret meat.

Four years later, she was damn high-altitude sick again.