He Laoliu's "Liuhe Hall" was decorated like a traditional Chinese medicine shop, exuding an antique charm. However, I found it somewhat artificial, perhaps due to the overly glossy paint. In my opinion, true antiquity is found in things weathered by time and experience – people are an exception, of course; Yaoyao was also "antique" in her way, but fresh and juicy was still better.
Entering the main hall, a spacious area greeted us. The ceiling was adorned with wooden strips forming a nine-palace grid, with a palace lantern hanging in each section. The lighting was quite advanced, projecting beams downward. I didn't know the technical term, but the projected beams held significance. The eight surrounding lights displayed symbols of the eight trigrams, while the central lantern projected the Taiji yin-yang diagram. At first glance, it resembled two national flags of South Korea stacked horizontally and vertically.
It looked very fake, though.
After all, the Taiji tiger was just a paper tiger.
"This formation, could it be to deal with you?" I chuckled.
Yaoyao raised an eyebrow. "Just some followers from Jiuxian Cave."
That made sense. It seemed He Laoliu had visited Jiuxian Cave and studied their formation layout. Unfortunately, he'd only grasped the superficial aspects. Not all nine-palace grids were trigram formations. Master Mu Jige's formation was actually the "Eight Demons Array," with no relation to the trigrams.
Surrounding the hall were display cabinets made of solid wood, covered with glass. The cabinets were lined with golden velvet and showcased Buddhist beads, bracelets, corals, porcelain, calligraphy, and paintings. Each item had a description but no price tag. If one wished to purchase, a discussion with the owner was likely required.
At the far end of the hall, facing the main entrance, was a tea table. Seated at the table was clearly not He Laoliu, but a young man who looked no older than twenty-two. He was lean and muscular, with sharp eyes and a precisely cut buzz cut. He wore an ancient-style short-sleeved tunic, but his feet were clad in genuine leather military boots. He was clearly a martial artist, possibly an ex-special forces soldier.
The young man glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner and, with a fake smile, approached us. He cupped his fists and asked, "You must be Boss Wu, right?"
I nodded. "Wu Chengfeng. This is my friend, Jin Yao."
"Did you bring the item? Let me see it first," the young man said, putting his hands behind his back.
Just as I was about to retrieve it, Yaoyao stopped me. She stepped forward and said disdainfully, "Tell He Laoliu to come out and talk. Don't use a puny kid to put on a show. Do you even deserve to see the 'Cloud-Chasing Hairpin'?"
The young man, perhaps lacking in chivalry, glared at Yaoyao, his fists clenching with a cracking sound. Just as he was about to act, movement from the stairs behind him announced, "Ah, ah, Boss Wu honors us with his presence! We apologize for not welcoming you sooner. A thousand pardons."
A man, accompanying the voice, descended the stairs. He was a portly, middle-aged man with white hair, who was indeed He Laoliu. He looked similar to his WeChat profile picture, though his face was now dotted with more acne and pockmarks.
As per international convention, profile pictures are always filtered.
The young man shot Yaoyao a glare and retreated. He Laoliu approached me and extended his hand for a handshake. His grip was incredibly strong, like a pair of pliers, forcing me to exert all my strength to prevent my hand from being crushed. Even so, I felt as if he were crushing a paper cup with ease. My palm was contorting, and I was about to give in when He Laoliu suddenly loosened his grip, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I thought you were some powerful Douzong expert..."
"What?" I pulled my hand back, shaking it, and asked him.
"Nothing, nothing. Please, both of you, come upstairs."
Yaoyao noticed my bruised palm and was about to retaliate when I pulled her back, shaking my head and indicating that the transaction was more important.
We followed He Laoliu upstairs. The layout was similar to the floor below, except the central hall was furnished with redwood sofas for guests, and a tea table was placed in the center.
It seems successful middle-aged men all enjoy tea, but I prefer sparkling water!
"Please, have a seat," He Laoliu said, his tone less polite than before. He gestured casually and took the host's seat, with the teapot and teacups placed before him. He didn't pour tea for Yaoyao or me. Instead, he leaned back against the chair, resting one foot on his other thigh, rocking his leg and looking down his nose at us, primarily at me.
"Boss Wu, you don't look very old. May I be so bold as to ask where you work?" He Laoliu inquired.
"I wouldn't say 'work,' I'm a freelancer," I replied vaguely.
"And your wife?" He Laoliu then looked at Yaoyao.
Yaoyao lowered her mink scarf, completely ignoring He Laoliu, and did not answer his question.