Chapter 372: So You

"This set of Tang sancai glazes has soft, harmonious transitions between light and dark tones, naturally intermingling with a weathered, vivid effect—just this interplay of colors alone reveals a grand, opulent aura, certainly no ordinary piece."

"This bronze incense burner is even more extraordinary—look at these patterns, look at its condition—it's something that came from the imperial palace! I won't claim it was used by the Nine-Dragon Sovereign, but it's definitely meant only for nobility."

After following Master Ai back to his residence, Master Ai pulled out two forgeries and asked Lao Song to appraise them. Lao Song immediately deployed his silver tongue in a barrage of flattery and deception, leaving Master Ai's eyes gleaming with greed.

Watching Master Ai fidget with delight like a stable boy who'd just been granted access to the Peach Garden of Immortality, Lao Song couldn't help but sneer.

Back in the day, when I fooled your father with ten times the effort I used on you, he smiled without so much as blinking—look at you now, so inept—how could you possibly be the son of a Prince?

If it weren't for that hooked nose you inherited from your father, I'd never believe you were related to that beast.

"Master Song? Master Song?"

Master Ai suddenly poked Lao Song.

Lao Song immediately dropped his sneer and spoke with professional decorum: "Ah, Master Ai, what else don't you understand?"

Master Ai nodded and whispered, "I'd like to ask you, Master Song—which of these two items is worth more?"

"Huh? Worth more?" Lao Song asked, puzzled. "When you say 'worth more,' what do you mean? Condition and completeness? Or rarity?"

"Money!"

Master Ai said bluntly: "Just tell me which one sells for more."

Neither's worth much—I paid twenty-three silver dollars to have them made.

Lao Song chuckled mysteriously and pointed his finger at the bronze incense burner.

"This one's newer, but it has pedigree. Antiques gain value from lineage—if you find a buyer obsessed with the Qing imperial family, they'll pay any price without hesitation!"

"Then this one."

Master Ai immediately placed the incense burner in the box and asked Lao Song: "In this city, which bank offers safe deposit boxes?"

"Safe deposit boxes?"

Lao Song was stumped. He thought a moment and said: "Before 1949, I knew Citibank in Beijing had them,

but does Beijing even have Citibank now? I don't know if other banks offer it, and even if they do, would they even serve ordinary folks like us?"

Lao Song meant that even if mainland banks had safe deposit services now, they likely didn't cater to private individuals.

Master Ai paused, then frowned.

"Then what do I do? A round trip to the Lighthouse takes at least ten days—where can I safely store something this valuable?"

Even Lao Song, clever as he was, was momentarily confused. He asked hesitantly: "Master Ai, didn't you plan to take this incense burner overseas? Why store it in Beijing?"

"You don't understand," Master Ai snapped, launching into a lecture: "A famous Nobel laureate in economics once said: don't put all your eggs in one basket.

I'm traveling thousands of miles from Beijing to the Lighthouse, passing through countless checkpoints—what if something gets seized?"

"So I'll take one now, leave the other in Beijing. Later, when I find a buyer obsessed with Qing royalty, I'll smuggle it out."

Lao Song: "..."

I'd believe a ghost before I believe you!

You're not putting eggs in separate baskets—you're just eating them yourself!

I thought you were a useless fool, but turns out you've got a talent for betraying your own kin—even stealing half your own father's things!

That's truly his father's genius.

Lao Song didn't have Li Ye's freakish ability to read expressions, but since youth he'd been skilled at outmaneuvering people—how could a novice liar like Master Ai possibly deceive him?

Master Ai clearly intended to keep the bronze incense burner for himself.

Lao Song finally understood why, after selling one item to Ah Qiang for tens of thousands in Hong Kong dollars, Master Ai was still broke.

Clearly, the Prince back in the Lighthouse was stingy—giving his younger son so little pocket money that he'd been driven to swindle his own father.

Master Ai pondered, then turned to Lao Song: "Master Song, could you hold onto this for me for a while? We're partners—I trust you."

"No, no," Lao Song waved his hands urgently. "Master Ai, you don't understand antique trade rules—valuable items like this can't be entrusted to others.

No offense, but when you return from the Lighthouse, what if you claim it turned fake? Who would I appeal to?"

"How could I be such a person?" Master Ai glared, annoyed. "Master Song, you're insulting me! I trusted you—I won't doubt you."

"No, no, I'm not the right person."

Lao Song kept refusing, then smiled: "Besides, didn't you say before that when you returned to the Lighthouse, you'd take me along to broaden my horizons? I need to go with you."

"Tsk."

Master Ai made a dismissive sound, his expression turning haughty.

"Master Song, you're too eager. If you want to go to the Lighthouse, you should learn at least a hundred common phrases first—you can't even ask for directions now; getting lost would be a disaster."

"I can hire a translator! You just help me get the visa."

"Visa, visa—have you been to the visa office? Do you think it's that easy? You saw me help two students get theirs and assumed it's simple? Do you know how hard I worked behind the scenes?"

Lao Song clenched his jaw, afraid if he opened his mouth, his cheeks would twist all the way to his ears.

He knew exactly how much effort Master Ai had put in to get those two trainees approved for Lighthouse visas.

Master Ai analyzed each student's profile, picked the most likely to pass, and drilled them with tricks to fool the visa officers.

Whether they passed was mostly luck—but two lucky breaks made him a "gold-certified instructor."

Just like driving schools today that promise "pay and pass, or get your money back"—except Master Ai was even more shameless: he didn't even refund you if you failed.

"Fine. I'll hold it for a few days. Go buy a safe deposit box—keep the key and code yourself. I'll just guard the door."

"Ah, that's right!"

Master Ai slung his arm around Lao Song's shoulder, warmly saying: "Master Song, don't worry—we're partners. There'll be plenty of chances to go to the Lighthouse later.

While I'm away, make sure you keep the trainees happy—I'll need them to continue teaching when I return!"

"Yes, yes, teaching and guiding—Master Ai, you're a great man, with great potential here in Beijing."

Lao Song praised Master Ai without restraint, while internally sneering.

People are dangerous when they lose self-awareness.

When Master Ai first started the training class and heard students respectfully call him "Teacher" and earnestly ask him questions, he floated on cloud nine.

Just like when Lao Song fooled Major Nakamura and was hailed as a "great hero" by his peers in Dongshan City—he'd forgotten his own weight.

Master Ai was the same—he started the class just to make money, but over time, he became addicted to the feeling of being revered, convinced he was truly a respected master.

That feeling of reverence can't be bought with money.

That's why Lao Song, though aware the training fees were unethical, still tolerated working with Master Ai—he needed to keep him close to track down his enemy and achieve revenge.

But Lao Song recorded every student's address, planning to secretly refund double the fee if any of them failed to emigrate.

Lao Song admitted he wasn't a good man—but when dealing with his own countrymen, he still held onto a shred of conscience.

Master Ai arrived safely in San Francisco on the west coast of the Lighthouse.

After stepping off the plane, he took a deep breath—and suddenly found the salty, damp sea air alien, repulsive.

This city didn't just hold his painful childhood, youth, and middle age—it carried a stench of ruin no washing could remove.

In contrast, his brief time on the mainland had shown him the hope of rising above others.

So Master Ai decided: once he settled things here, he'd return to Beijing to enjoy life.

The mainland wasn't as poor as rumored—if you had money, food, clothes, and essentials were never lacking, and women were even more plentiful.

Had Lao Song not repeatedly warned him that the mainland cracked down hard on moral misconduct—if a woman accused him, even without evidence, he'd go to jail—he'd already bedded several female students by now.

But while Master Ai yearned to return, several fellow passengers from the mainland exclaimed joyfully: "Wow, this smell—it's the ocean! So nice!"

"No, it's the smell of freedom—the scent of infinite possibility. Breathe deep—can't you smell that irresistible, sweet allure?"

"Yes, so sweet!"

"Pfft."

Master Ai couldn't help laughing.

"Comrade, why are you laughing?"

Master Ai glanced at the annoyed passengers and, in flawless local accent, spat out:

Welcome to the hell of freedom—if you can't become a demon, become demon food!

(End of Chapter)

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