"Who are you?" Fang Che asked in surprise.
He could not sense the slightest trace of cultivation from this middle-aged man. He seemed no different from an ordinary person.
How had he called out his name the moment he opened his mouth? "Come over and sit for a while."
The middle-aged man carried a hoe. Without caring whether Fang Che followed, he simply walked ahead, taking a path beside the main road into the flower garden. Beneath a flowering tree with a canopy like an umbrella stood two stone stools.
The middle-aged man sat down on one of them and smiled. "Sit."
Fang Che sat down, uncertain and suspicious.
He considered the middle-aged man's identity.
The Yan Family estate, carrying a hoe...
But he was definitely not some tenant farmer or hired laborer of the Yan Family. In a core location belonging to a great family like this, there were only maids, flower slaves, and guards.
Yet this man was alone and did not care in the slightest about his own appearance.
If he was not an important figure of the Yan Family, he absolutely could not be this casual.
At that thought, Fang Che's attitude became respectful.
The middle-aged man's eyes were clear, black and white sharply distinct, as limpid as those of an innocent teenager who knew nothing of worldly matters. Yet they seemed to reflect the entire past and present of the human world.
He looked into Fang Che's eyes and smiled faintly. "Have you guessed who I am?"
"Could you be... Lord Old Yan?" Fang Che asked tentatively.
"That's right. Yan Beihan is my daughter."
The middle-aged man smiled faintly. "I am Yan Beihan's father, the one who has never shown his face—the son of Yan Nan."
"I pay my respects to Lord Yan."
Fang Che