28. An Astonishingly Profound Heritage

Before inheriting Pan Wu’s memories, Xiao Yao could hardly be called erudite; at best, he knew a little more than the average simpleton. As the saying goes, a belly full of poetry and books brings forth a natural grace—a person’s bearing is a reflection of their knowledge and refinement. The former Xiao Yao, idle and unambitious, could hardly be said to possess any particular air; if anything, he exuded a hint of roguishness.

But ever since absorbing the entirety of Pan Wu’s memories, Xiao Yao had been integrating them into himself. Though not much time had passed, the sheer volume of knowledge he gained far surpassed what a talented individual could achieve in several lifetimes. In terms of both breadth and depth of learning, there was truly no one in the real world who could rival him.

What he mastered was not only vast but also remarkably diverse. It ranged from the wisdom accumulated over countless years of life, to literature, music, calligraphy, painting, sculpture, and the arts of metal and stone. Nor was it limited to the arts—there was also mysticism such as medicine, divination, and astrology, not to mention the ruthless cunning to decide matters of life and death with a single word.

These unique experiences and the complex, multifaceted knowledge had, in a short span, converged within Xiao Yao, naturally bestowing upon him an extraordinary aura. He had inherited Pan Wu’s entire fortune amassed over three thousand years, along with his knowledge and skills, granting him unparalleled self-confidence. He also inherited the sacred soul foundation forged through three millennia of cultivation, which allowed for limitless reincarnation of the soul, and perhaps even immortality; this gave him a godlike detachment, an ability to look down upon all living things.

The array of profound knowledge also endowed him with a variety of artistic temperaments. Because his experiences were so exceptional and the knowledge he inherited so deep and vast, all of this combined to give him a strikingly strong personal style.

It was this intense sense of individuality that shaped Xiao Yao’s unique aura.

This unusual aura was impossible to miss—even people like Wang Chuanjie and his wife, as well as Cheng Mo, who were used to meeting all manner of elites, could not ignore it. Cheng Mo, in particular, had always been discerning and sparing with her praise, especially for young men like Xiao Yao; flattery was simply not her way. Yet what she said to Xiao Yao truly came from the heart, not out of politeness.

She had come to choose a birthday gift for her grandmother. Though the host’s courtyard residence radiated luxury at every turn, that alone was not enough to move her. But upon meeting Xiao Yao, the master of the house, she found herself genuinely surprised.

This young man who was her contemporary was truly different. She had seen many handsome men, but never before had she encountered someone so young whose presence was so compelling and unique. A person’s bearing reflects their learning and cultivation; she could not help but wonder how such a powerful and distinctive aura had been formed in Xiao Yao.

Once everyone was seated, Cheng Mo dispensed with small talk and got straight to the point. “Mr. Xiao, first let me thank you for your willingness to part with your treasured collection. My grandmother’s seventieth birthday is approaching, and our entire family attaches great importance to it. We’ve been searching for a precious gift that she would truly love, but so far to no avail. If it weren’t for your help, I’d soon be heading off to Hong Kong Island empty-handed.”

“President Wang is my sister’s direct superior. Of course, I have to show him this courtesy,” Xiao Yao replied, making sure to honor the favor he was bestowing.

Cheng Mo smiled faintly. “I heard from Teacher Li that you’ve selected three top-tier jadeite pieces from your collection for me to choose from. Each is a rare treasure on the market. I can hardly wait to see them. No woman can resist the allure of the finest jewels, and I am no exception. You understand, don’t you, Mr. Xiao?”

“Supreme jewelry is the very embodiment of ultimate beauty. Anyone with an eye for beauty would find it irresistible. I am no less mortal than anyone else—I completely understand,” Xiao Yao replied, rising to his feet. “Miss Cheng, please wait a moment. I’ll fetch them for you right away.”

As Xiao Yao left, Butler Lu entered carrying a teapot. “I heard from Teacher Li that Miss Cheng enjoys Lu’an Melon Seed tea, so I’ve specially prepared a pot for your tasting,” he announced.

“Thank you, Butler Lu. That’s very thoughtful of you,” Cheng Mo replied, expressing her gratitude.

Wang Chuanjie and his wife felt a tinge of disappointment at not being served the imperial-grade Shifeng Longjing tea again. But then they remembered that even Miss Cheng had not been offered it, while Xiao Yao had served it to them before. This gave them a sense of honor, and their disappointment quickly vanished.

After pouring the tea, Butler Lu quietly withdrew. Cheng Mo’s gaze turned to the furnishings in the reception room. With only a cursory inspection, a look of surprise appeared in her eyes.

The room’s décor was sparse, but each piece was an exceptionally rare treasure. The landscape painting hanging by the entrance, based on the signature, appeared to be from Huang Gongwang, one of the Four Masters of the Yuan Dynasty. Its style evoked robust mountains and flowing clouds—clearly not a mere imitation.

Cheng Mo was a distinguished graduate of the Central Academy of Fine Arts. In her youth, she studied Chinese painting under renowned masters, and in university, she focused on Western oil painting. Although she was not a professional appraiser, her training had given her a practiced eye.

The more she looked, the more convinced she became that this was an authentic piece! Huang Gongwang, revered as the calligraphy sage of painting, had reached the pinnacle of landscape art. A scroll of this length and quality would be of inestimable value.

There were three porcelain pieces in the room. One appeared to be a large Yuan-dynasty blue-and-white jar, and it even featured a figural motif; another looked like a Northern Song Ru kiln celadon narcissus basin; the last resembled the famed Qianlong famille rose openwork vase.

Cheng Mo’s father was a collector, so she had a basic knowledge of porcelain—enough to recognize the types, though she couldn’t distinguish genuine from counterfeit. But if all three pieces were authentic, that would be extraordinary. Each was among the most coveted of Chinese porcelains, classed as national treasures, with values in the hundreds of millions and so rare that even wealth could not guarantee ownership.

If both the Huang Gongwang painting and these porcelains were genuine, then just these few items alone would be worth an astronomical sum! No matter how luxurious the courtyard residence, its value would pale in comparison to these seemingly inconspicuous artifacts. If they were indeed authentic, she would have to completely reassess the host’s background and resources.

While Cheng Mo was still studying the porcelains, Xiao Yao returned, carrying a sandalwood box. He placed it before her and said, “The three jadeite pieces are all in this box, Miss Cheng. Please, take a look.”

Cheng Mo opened the lid. At the first sight of the three top-grade jadeite pieces inside, her eyes sparkled with delight.