Quiet Garden and a Quiet, Elegant Car
"You really did come."
The middle-aged man stood beside the car, looking at Lu Chuan.
His tone was the same as it had been on the phone.
Lu Chuan nodded.
"Yeah."
The middle-aged man asked no further questions and turned to walk inside.
"Follow me."
Lu Chuan followed him.
They entered the Quiet Garden residential complex.
The black wrought-iron gates slowly slid open to either side.
Jiangcheng's autumn tiger had only just begun. Heat shimmered above the road, and car horns blared in a constant chorus.
But the moment they stepped into Quiet Garden,
the noise outside faded considerably.
There were no grand, gilded fountains in the complex.
No Roman columns, either.
There were only vast stretches of neatly trimmed trees.
The wind passed through the leaves with a rustle.
Lu Chuan took a deep breath.
The air carried the coolness of grass and trees.
It was very quiet.
That quiet made him feel utterly at ease.
In his previous life, he had tried to fit in, to worm his way into a circle where he didn't belong.
Every day, he had gone from one noisy club or bar to another.
He had feared quiet.
Because quiet meant he was an outsider nobody paid attention to.
But after living one life and dying once,
what he longed for most now was this kind of quiet, where he didn't have to cater to anyone or strain to put on a show.
The middle-aged man walked ahead.
He didn't say a word along the way.
He didn't mention the proportion of green space or the property management company's credentials, much less how high the average property price was in the complex.
Since he said nothing, Lu Chuan didn't try to strike up a conversation either.
Their footsteps echoed along the bluestone path.
The silence didn't feel awkward at all.
They took the elevator up.
And arrived at the expansive apartment on the top floor.
The middle-aged man placed his finger on the fingerprint lock.
Click.
The door opened.
"Take a look around."
The middle-aged man stood on the mat in the entryway.
He didn't take out shoe covers or change his shoes.
He merely gestured casually toward the interior.
He was watching discreetly.
The apartment had been on the market for some time.
Plenty of nouveau riche and young second-generation heirs had come to view it.
Whenever they entered, their eyes always went straight to the center of the living room.
Looking for the most expensive chandelier.
Looking for the most conspicuous imported marble TV wall.
Looking for the things they could photograph and show off on their Moments feed.
But the middle-aged man noticed that the eighteen-year-old before him reacted entirely differently.
Lu Chuan walked in.
He didn't look at the furniture brands.
Instead, he first stood in the entryway and glanced at the natural light coming through the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows.
He watched how the light stretched across the floor.
Then,
he set off, walking from the living room to the dining room and then into the hallway.
He made his way through it all slowly.
Finally,
Lu Chuan stopped in front of the half-open solid wood door at the end of the hallway.
It was the study.
"This place is pretty interesting."
Lu Chuan looked away and turned around.
"Every part of it
feels like it was made for people to live in.
It doesn't put on airs.
All together, it feels like a home."
When the middle-aged man standing in the entryway heard that,
the keys in his hand knocked together with the faintest sound.
Tink.
His eyelids lifted slightly.
He felt a faint stirring in his heart.
Lu Chuan pushed open the solid wood door.
And stepped inside.
The light in the study was a little dimmer, and the room was serene.
There was none of the musty smell of a place that had sat unoccupied for years.
Instead, there was a faint scent in the air.
The smell of paper mixed with ink.
Lu Chuan walked over to the enormous desk.
It was a single large slab of solid wood.
It retained the wood's natural grain.
The edges of the desk showed slight wear.
The angle of the backrest on the chair beside it looked as though it would fit the spine.
"You can't fake a study."
Lu Chuan reached out and gently ran his fingertips over the wooden desktop.
It felt smooth and warm.
"Whether someone actually reads here or just uses it for show,
you can tell at a glance."
At some point, the middle-aged man had walked to the study doorway.
He leaned against the doorframe.
His gaze rested on Lu Chuan.
"Know calligraphy?"
The middle-aged man asked casually.
It sounded like an ordinary bit of small talk.
But there was a hint of probing beneath it.
Lu Chuan turned around.
He met the middle-aged man's gaze.
And shook his head without hesitation.
"No."
Lu Chuan's answer was blunt.
He didn't try to force in talk of Yang's sinews and Liu's bones to cater to the owner.
"I can't even recognize most calligraphy copybooks."
Lu Chuan looked at the walls of the study.
"But I can feel it.
This room is very comfortable to be in."
His hands hung naturally at his sides.
"I've seen a lot of houses.
The moment you walk in, all you see is money.
Every decoration reminds you that it's expensive and you have to be careful touching it."
Lu Chuan smiled.
"But not this place.
It puts you at ease first."
The middle-aged man leaned against the doorframe.
He looked at Lu Chuan for several seconds.
He said nothing.
For an eighteen-year-old to have such a clear-eyed sense of how to live-
it was downright uncanny.
That kind of clarity wasn't something a wealthy family could buy.
It was something that could only settle in a person after life had knocked them around and they had seen through all its glitz.
The middle-aged man straightened up.
He pulled his hand out of his pocket.
"Come on.
Let's go to the living room.
Have some water."
He turned and walked toward the living room.
In all the time he had spent showing people the apartment, this was the first time he had offered to let a buyer sit down for a drink.
On the tea table in the living room
sat a set of antique-style purple clay teaware.
The middle-aged man sat down.
He picked up the electric kettle beside him and poured hot water.
Warmed the cups.
Poured the tea.
The whole sequence flowed like drifting clouds and running water.
Lu Chuan sat across from him.
Watching quietly.
When a steaming cup of tea was pushed in front of him,
Lu Chuan nodded.
"You're only eighteen, right?"
The middle-aged man put down the teapot and leaned back against the wooden chair.
He studied the young man, who was composed beyond his years.
"What made you want to buy a place like this?
Don't people your age
all like mansions with outdoor pools where you can throw parties?"
Lu Chuan picked up the teacup.
Blew on the steam rising from its surface.
And took a small sip.
The tea slipped down his throat, warming his stomach.
He put down the cup.
"A home is meant to be lived in."
Lu Chuan's voice was steady.
"If someone has spent the whole day busy outside."
"Back at home."
"I'd still have to keep up appearances to match the style of the house."
"I couldn't even sprawl on the sofa as I pleased."
Lu Chuan looked at the middle-aged man.
"How would that be any different from living in an upscale private club?"
"It'd be too tiring."
The middle-aged man tapped a hand lightly against the armrest of his chair.
He looked at Lu Chuan.
Those words had struck a chord deep in his heart.
He let go of his reservations about the young man entirely.
The middle-aged man sat up straight.
"This house."
"The lowest price listed on the forum is twenty-two million."
The middle-aged man spoke evenly.
"If you really want it."
"Twenty million."
Twenty million in cash.
To any ordinary college student, that was an astronomical sum.
Even those second-generation heirs would give it extra thought when they heard twenty million.
But Lu Chuan sat across from him.
His expression did not change at all.
There was no alarm.
Nor did he bargain.
Lu Chuan merely nodded slightly.
Then.
He looked at the middle-aged man.
He asked three professional questions.
"How many parking spaces come with it?"
"Is the title clear? Are there any mortgages or disputes on the property?"
"If we make a deal, can the furnishings stay?"
As soon as the three questions were out.
A flicker of undisguised appreciation passed through the middle-aged man's eyes.
That composure.
That steadiness, focusing only on the key information.
This kid was no ordinary young man.
The middle-aged man told Lu Chuan about the parking spaces, the title, and the list of furnishings that would stay, one by one.
The two discussed everything thoroughly.
Lu Chuan stood up.
He did not make a decision on the spot just because the middle-aged man had lowered the price.
"I really am very interested in this house."
"I've more or less made up my mind."
Lu Chuan looked him in the eye, his tone utterly sincere.
"But I can't sign the contract today."
"I need to go back and get my accounts in order."
"I need to go over how I'll transfer and move my funds around again."
This levelheaded approach.
Made the middle-aged man get to his feet as well.
Not only was he not angry, he smiled and nodded.
"All right."
The middle-aged man made a promise that carried considerable weight.
"This house."
"I'll have the agent hold it."
"As long as you still want it, you'll be my first choice."
"Thank you."
Lu Chuan went to the entryway and put his shoes back on.
He opened the door.
And walked out of Quiet Garden.
The morning sunlight was a little dazzling now.
The wind blew through the plane trees on both sides of the road, rustling their leaves.
Lu Chuan stood on the curb.
He closed his eyes.
The abacus in his head began to click rapidly.
Twenty million.
That was a huge funding gap.
He currently had only the ten million in demolition compensation in his account.
And even if he put all of it toward the down payment, the remaining mortgage would be a huge black hole for his cash flow.
He did not want to fall back into that anxiety of being driven along by money.
Besides.
He also needed to buy a car; it was an extension of the range of his daily life.
He absolutely could not let his pace fall into disarray.
If he wanted to secure Quiet Garden, get a car, and live a truly relaxed life.
There was only one way.
Make money.
Make it fast.
Make a quick sum with a high degree of certainty.
The time for that market run he remembered from his previous life was approaching.
Lu Chuan opened his eyes.
He took a deep breath of air that smelled of city dust.
He was set on Quiet Garden.
He had to get it.
As he was preparing to return to his rented apartment.
His gaze happened to sweep across the road diagonally opposite him.
Lu Chuan's hand stopped in midair.
It was an upscale used luxury car dealership.
Behind its enormous, spotless floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
A car sat quietly.
It was not as flashy as a red Ferrari.
It was a white car.
The paint gleamed with a soft, delicate sheen in the sunlight.
Beautiful, flowing fastback lines.
A huge circular mesh grille.
Serene and elegant.
It was a white Bentley Continental GT.
Lu Chuan's gaze locked firmly onto the car.
The sounds of engines and pedestrians talking around him seemed to fade into the distance.
That sleek white silhouette was reflected in his eyes.
Wasn't this exactly the mobile space he had always wanted?
Lu Chuan looked at the car.
The corners of his mouth twitched.
It looked like the funding gap was going to get even bigger.