Chapter 697: Collecting Ancient Books and Paintings

He Yuzhu's trip to the Lingnan Industrial Park took nearly seven months of back-and-forth effort before he finally managed to build that game console production line. By the time production, supply, and sales were all smoothed out and he returned to Si Jiu Cheng, it was already March of the following year.

Spring comes early to Beijing; the willow branches by the moat had just sprouted tender buds, and the willow catkins filled the streets, flying everywhere in a white, fluffy mass, as if a spring snow had fallen.

Bang Geng was in the office reporting the recent situation at the factory and the No. 95 Siheyuan to him: "... Siqiang, Xu Damao got married. This time, he found another woman from the countryside, someone he met while showing movies. The woman looks alright, but she's quite fierce. Even my grandmother can't win an argument against her, and Xu Damao often gets beaten by her... A few days after she arrived in the city, she made Xu Damao arrange a job for her. Now, she sells goods at the Supply and Marketing Cooperative. I heard that for this, Xu Damao didn't skimp on the bribes..."

He Yuzhu held his tea mug, took a sip of water, and said, "That's good too; finally, someone can keep him in check."

"My grandmother has been driven to depression by that woman!" Bang Geng chuckled, then immediately brought up another matter, "Oh right, Siqiang, Xiaomi and Aunt Dahua are getting married next month. The weddings are on the same day. They even said that if you didn't come back, they would postpone the weddings, saying you definitely owe them a big red envelope. Siqiang, how much money are you planning to give them?"

"I am very fair. You'll know how much I give them when you get married. By the way, where are their partners from?" He Yuzhu asked, lifting his gaze from the tea mug.

"They're both from military compounds. Those two guys are quite handsome. Once, when Liu Guangtian was bullying Aunt Yushui, several compound youths helped out, and later, two of them started dating Xiaomi and Aunt Dahua," Bang Geng chattered on, getting more and more animated as he spoke.

As He Yuzhu listened, the corners of his mouth slowly curled up. Hearing these trivial matters, he felt quite happy too.

Just then, the telephone on the desk rang.

He Yuzhu picked up the phone, and Ding Li's voice came from the other end: "Brother, it's a good thing you're back. I know of several warehouses that have a lot of very good paintings... and, and a lot of ancient books... The day after tomorrow morning, they are going to label them as 'Four Olds' and take them to the outskirts to be burned in a pile..."

Ever since Ding Li was assigned to work at the Beijing Painting Academy, she often told He Yuzhu about certain news. Whenever good items appeared on the market, He Yuzhu would often receive them into his own hands. Ding Li herself also often collected some paintings.

Upon hearing this, He Yuzhu immediately asked, "Do you know where all the warehouses are?"

"I heard they have over ten warehouses, but I only know of five: the Art Museum's, the Qianmen Cultural Relics Store, the Exhibition Hall, the Library, and the Gongwangfu..."

After hanging up the phone, He Yuzhu was silent for a moment and said, "Bang Geng, when you get off work, tell your mistress that I have some business to attend to these next two days and won't be coming home."

Bang Geng was stunned for a moment, looked at his Siqiang's expression, nodded sensibly, and didn't ask any more questions.

In the dead of night, He Yuzhu changed into dark clothes and stepped out into the moonlight.

He first jumped into the courtyard of the Art Museum's Warehouse. The security room at the main gate was guarded by only one old man, who was leaning against a single bed, already snoring.

He Yuzhu didn't disturb him; he held his breath, hugged the wall, and crept to the warehouse door. With a thought, he directly collected the lock into his space.

He pushed the door lightly, but it still let out a "creak," and his heart jumped violently.

After listening for a while, the old man didn't seem to have woken up.

Pushing the door open and entering, a thick, musty smell of old paper rushed toward him, making him wrinkle his nose slightly.

Looking around, bundles and scrolls of ancient paintings were stacked together like a small mountain.

He casually unrolled one and shone his flashlight on it. The ink landscape on the yellowed rice paper was still vivid. He couldn't identify whose handiwork it was, but the brushwork and the paper quality clearly showed it was something with some age to it.

He picked up an old book; it was printed with vertical traditional characters. Judging by the layout, it should have been a block-printed edition from the early Qing Dynasty.

He Yuzhu didn't delay any longer; with a wave of his hand, he collected all those books and paintings into his space.

He exited the warehouse, locked the door, and said silently in his heart: Old man, I'm sorry.

Then he went to a warehouse near Qianmen.

This warehouse was actually even larger than the Art Museum's. Two middle-aged men were guarding the entrance, and the sound of their drunken conversation drifted from inside.

He Yuzhu didn't take the main entrance; he circled to the back wall, took a deep breath, climbed onto the roof using his hands and feet, and pried off a few tiles, revealing a thin layer of wooden boards underneath.

He lifted the boards and flipped inside, landing with almost no sound.

It was pitch black inside, and he couldn't see his own fingers.

He took out his flashlight, and where the beam swept, he gasped.

Not only were there paintings and books here, but there were also rows of rosewood furniture, which at a glance were clearly old items confiscated from wealthy households.

He Yuzhu didn't hesitate; he collected everything in the room into his space.

Looking at the thousands of square meters of empty warehouse, he wondered what the reaction of the guards would be when dawn broke tomorrow.

By the time he rushed to the Xizhimen Exhibition Hall's warehouse, he discovered that this place was far from as easy to deal with as the first two.

Several makeshift tents had been set up in the courtyard, likely housing people who had come to Beijing from other places.

The trouble was that several people hadn't slept yet and were sitting around a fire, chatting about what they had seen in Beijing.

The firelight made their faces flicker between light and shadow.

He Yuzhu watched from afar as the carved wooden pieces were thrown into the fire, and his heart felt as if it had been pinched by something.

Fearing he would be recognized, he immediately entered his space to disguise himself, making his clothes look similar to theirs.

He hunched his waist, hugged the wall, and crept to the warehouse entrance. The door was actually wide open.

This warehouse was ridiculously large, with a towering dome, and the mountains of books inside were stacked in rows and piles, extending to the end of the darkness.

Some books were stuffed haphazardly into large wooden crates, crates stacked upon crates, and even more books were just scattered on the ground, layered upon layers.

He Yuzhu didn't have time to look closely, nor could he bother to distinguish which were precious and which were ordinary; wherever he went, everything within a ten-meter radius disappeared.

It took him a full five minutes to collect everything inside.

Just as he turned to leave, a hoarse shout suddenly came from the corner—

"Who?"

He Yuzhu's blood froze instantly.

He turned his head abruptly to see a figure in the corner swaying as it stood up.

The man was rubbing his eyes, seemingly not fully awake; he had likely not set up a tent and had slept directly in the warehouse.

If he were discovered to have this ability, it would all be over!

He Yuzhu didn't have time to think; with a thought, his entire person disappeared on the spot.

The man rubbed his eyes vigorously, but his heart was in turmoil: he had clearly seen a figure, so how had it suddenly vanished? And where had all the books in the warehouse gone?

The more he thought, the more afraid he became, thinking he had truly run into a ghost.

After several seconds, he muttered to himself: "Is... is there really a ghost in this world?"

The more he thought, the more terrified he became; he took to his heels and ran toward the door, shouting as he ran: "A ghost! There's a ghost!"

He Yuzhu followed his figure and soon followed him out, leaping a few times to vault out of the courtyard.

The courtyard immediately fell into chaos.

Those who hadn't slept grabbed their flashlights and ran toward the warehouse.