Chapter 80: Unyielding Until Death

Chen Yu and A Gui followed closely behind, curiosity written across the former's face.

Compared to the other shops, "Yunzhou Emporium" seemed far more desolate and remote, tucked away in such a secluded corner that only those with sharp eyes could even spot it.

This was clearly out of keeping with Xing Ge's status.

Upon entering the shop, they found an old man with a head of silver hair, who looked to be approaching sixty, lying on a wooden recliner, casually fanning himself with a folding fan.

An old-fashioned radio sat in the shop, sputtering out fragments of Huangmei opera.

He seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that anyone had entered.

"Ahem."

Ye Fei gave a light cough.

The old man still showed no reaction.

Ye Fei had no choice but to approach and pat the old man's knee.

A pair of cloudy eyes opened slowly, gazing at the three standing in the doorway. He raised his fan, opened his mouth as though to speak, and asked with a questioning look, "What is it?"

"We're here to see your proprietor," Ye Fei replied with a faint smile.

The old man furrowed his brow and repeated, "What is it?"

"We're here to see your proprietor!" Chen Yu reiterated.

"What is it?" The old man pointed to his own ear. "Can't hear too well."

"Sir, you’re not deaf—why pretend to be?" Ye Fei’s eyes glimmered with a pale blue as he smiled. "We’re here for Mr. Xing. If he’s in, please let him know that friends of Xing Yue have arrived."

Clatter—

The old man’s folding fan slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.

He looked utterly shocked, as if he’d just heard something earth-shattering. With a trembling finger, he pointed at Ye Fei. "You... you..."

"Old Zhang!"

A powerful voice echoed from the loft at the corner.

Ye Fei and the others looked up.

A middle-aged man in a black Zhongshan suit, holding a rosewood dragon-headed cane, walked toward them at a measured pace.

His expression was solemn, brows tightly knit, a glint of sharpness in his eyes. He lifted his cane and pointed toward the door, addressing Ye Fei: "You—get out. Yunzhou Emporium does not welcome you."

In the vast shop, the scent of sandalwood smoke thickened, drifting like an invisible chasm between Ye Fei and Xing Ge.

"Get out!"

Seeing that Ye Fei did not move, Xing Ge’s eyes flashed with anger. He pointed at the door and repeated himself.

Ye Fei’s face was expressionless, hands in his pockets, standing his ground with no intention of leaving.

"Mr. Xing, do you remember me? I’m Chen Bozhong’s niece, Chen Yu," Chen Yu interjected, her tone playful as she waved.

"Chen Bozhong?" Xing Ge’s expression softened and he nodded slightly. "Is the old master in good health these days? We had quite a friendship back in the day."

"My uncle is well," Chen Yu replied with a slight smile. "He’s mentioned you often lately, and praises you without reservation. If it weren’t for your discerning eye back then, that antique would have ended up in the trash. I’ve come this time specifically—"

"Enough, there’s no need for all these pleasantries," Xing Ge waved her off, sitting in a chair to the side, his demeanor cold. "I know you want to ask a favor on behalf of the Chen family, that’s fine, but that can wait. My shop does not welcome cowards or traitors. Please leave."

"Cowards? Traitors?" Chen Yu glanced at Ye Fei, her brows creasing.

She and Chen Bozhong had looked into Ye Fei’s background before.

But for various reasons, even the powerful Chen family had only been able to uncover surface details.

At that moment—

Clatter—

Ye Fei straightened his back, faced Xing Ge, and dropped to one knee. "I have failed you, Mr. Xing!"

Chen Yu was stunned, at a loss for words.

Xing Ge’s expression was complicated, but his tone remained icy. "Will kneeling bring the dead back to life?"

"It will not," Ye Fei’s eyes reddened, "but one day, I will avenge him."

"And where were you then!?" Xing Ge suddenly stood, his gaze filled with grief and anger as he stared at Ye Fei. "What use are these words now?"

Ye Fei did not reply, remaining on one knee for a long time.

Chen Yu, watching, was dumbstruck, words caught in her throat.

Once, for the sake of experience, Ye Fei had spent time abroad as a mercenary, making a close group of brothers.

Among them was a young man named Xing Yue, only nineteen, a rookie who quickly grew close to Ye Fei. Filled with patriotic dreams, he followed Ye Fei into ever more dangerous war zones.

Nineteen years old.

Xing Ge’s son.

That was why Ye Fei had knelt.

To Xing Ge, Xing Yue was not only the most promising heir, but one of the last direct descendants of the Xing family.

"If he had died honorably on the battlefield, I could have accepted it," Xing Ge’s throat was dry, lips nearly bleeding. "But that was nothing but a one-sided slaughter. As his father, how can I forgive?"

"I have found out the cause, and I swear to avenge him," Ye Fei said, pausing. "I will not rest until it is done."

"Swear to avenge him?" Xing Ge’s lips trembled. "Never rest?"

Coming from a military family, he understood the weight of those words.

"Enough. Get up," Xing Ge took a deep breath, the grief in his eyes slowly receding.

Ye Fei nodded, stood, and bowed deeply.

Chen Yu quickly added, "We've come to see Mr. Xing in hopes of exchanging for a bronze cauldron."

"Bronze cauldron?" Xing Ge frowned. "I have a few Ming and Qing bronze cauldrons here, not worth much. Take whichever you like—as an apology for not visiting the old master. They’re in the back courtyard. I’ll have Old Zhang take you."

With that, he turned and ascended the stairs.

"Thank you, Uncle Xing," Chen Yu said with a bright smile.

Old Zhang hurried to lead them to the back courtyard.

Though the shop itself was small, it backed onto a traditional courtyard, all part of Xing Ge’s estate, used for storing and collecting antiques. Since he lived a secluded life, this place was half home, half shop.

Old Zhang, moving lightly, led them to a wooden door on the southwest side, drew a key from his pocket, and unlocked it.

"Please."

He gestured them inside.

Within, the air was thick with the scent of things long undisturbed, but there was no dust to be seen; every corner was meticulously kept.

The bronze cauldron Xing Ge had mentioned sat on a solid wood shelf to the right. It was less than half a meter tall, its lacquer chipped and incomplete, the rim marred by a few missing pieces.

"Take a look at it," Chen Yu said.

Ye Fei, moving on instinct, reached up and weighed it in his hands.

"During the Ming and Qing dynasties, bronze casting techniques improved greatly, including the traditional clay-mold method and the lost-wax method that developed during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, the latter capable of casting bells weighing dozens of tons."

"Whether currency or daily vessels, brass accounted for a large proportion of the bronzeware from that era."