Picking Up at the Airport

The Painting of White Cranes.

It was the living signature of the Sicheng Embroidery Workshop, as well as the only exhibition piece left to the workshop by Granny Siyun’s master. Over the years, countless people had offered astronomical fortunes to acquire it, but the workshop had never parted with it. Back then, it had caused a sensation nationwide alongside two other masterpieces of Su embroidery: Twin Lotus Flowers and A Hundred Children Celebrating Longevity. Today, one resided in the National Museum, while the whereabouts of the other remained unknown, rumored to have been smuggled overseas. Consequently, this Painting of White Cranes stood as the most precious treasure remaining among the populace.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, Sun Jianping arrived at Li Guangyu's office to report on the stock market situation and deliver news regarding the contract settlement scheduled by Sanwa Bank.

"Since that is the case, our forces shall prepare to strike, and we will surely catch them completely off guard," Zhang Jiao said with a cold laugh, his tone laced with bitter resentment.

Mingyang instinctively glanced back to verify that no one was around, then stared at the unsightly face before him as if looking at a fool.

Though referred to as Murray MacLehose's home, it was in fact the residence of every governor—Government House.

Lin Nianwan said with conviction that if the enemy invaders had truly attacked the border, then in her past life, the Emperor would never have executed her father and brothers in such a hasty manner. Furthermore, during her flight, she had never heard whispers of the enemy making a move until the news of her father's death reached the frontier.

Some people acted as though they were entirely reasonable, politely asking others, "Would that be acceptable?"—yet all the while holding a sword to the other person's throat. Who would dare to say it was not acceptable, or what?

If there was anyone Sikong Ling feared seeing most, it was undoubtedly Lin Yuhao; moreover, she truly did not wish for Lin Yuhao to witness her current appearance.

Lin Yuhao cast a heavy glance at Lin Jingheng. In that brief moment, he felt utterly useless, unable to protect Sikong Ling, nor even his own younger sister.

He had been foolish enough previously, failing to recognize his own feelings for Ye Jinmang until he had let so many opportunities slip through his fingers.

The sudden aggression of the Kun provoked Wang Nuannian. Raising her hand, she unleashed a beam of golden light directly at the Kun. Her own hand was pushed back by the radiant glow emanating from her body, and she crashed awkwardly against the wall.

It seemed the Rong family was truly on the decline; even his second older brother, who was notorious for breaking all the rules and acting entirely on whim, had become so diligent about going to work.

If Xu Yi intended to treat this primordial creation merit as his "salary," then given the current number of "employees" in the Spirit Palace, even if that workforce were to surge a thousandfold, he would not have to worry about payroll for trillions of years.

"Qingmu!" Mo Fei slammed a fist fiercely against the rough wall, the impact tearing the skin and leaving his knuckles dripping with blood.

Even though that person had taken the parties involved being present into account and hastily changed their words, Zhuang Yu had heard every single word with crystal clarity.

Giving a strange, searching look at Qin Qiong, whose face was flushed with embarrassment, Qin Yi's expression grew increasingly complex.

Normally, each department held the right to recommend outstanding students to the Student Union, with the Union making the final decision following a specific review process. Yet, as a rule, the Student Union invariably approved them, as the candidates had already undergone thorough evaluation by their respective departments.

"Just like the monopoly on salt and iron remaining under government control," Ye Siniang said, her clear eyes gazing directly at them.

Before the beast-fighting match even began, the entire arena was engulfed in a wave of roaring noise. Coupled with that, the lingering breath of late spring filled the venue with a stifling, restless heat.

As a manager, apart from a meager base salary, his income depended entirely on commissions from Rong Nanxing's work.

Yet upon hearing the other person sweetly address him as "Brother Yi," his expression shifted instantaneously into something rather subtle.

Above the third layer of heaven lay the fourth, yet the title for practitioners changed from "True Man" to "Immortal," and the implications of this were self-evident. The gap between the fourth and third layers of heaven was countless times greater than any disparity in realms that came before; it was far more than the difference between heaven and earth—one was merely a True Man, while the other was an Immortal, representing two entirely different states of existence.

"General Lahe seems to be insinuating something. The academic world is filled with crouching tigers and hidden dragons, and I certainly would not dare claim that a mere three passwords could stump all my peers. If you believe my abilities are inadequate, you are quite welcome to seek out a more brilliant mind," Thomson retorted with a cold smile, meeting hostility with hostility.