Two days later.
Xiang Yuan was about to release Lin Chong out of righteousness and watch him beat Lu Qian and Fu An to a pulp when Gao Qiu suddenly sent word for him to come to the study.
Afraid that Lin Chong might move too quickly and that Lu Qian and Fu An would already be resting in peace beneath the earth by the time he finished speaking with Gao Qiu, Xiang Yuan did not release Lin Chong in a hurry. He followed the servants to the study instead.
The study stood in the eastern corner of the residence, its windows veiled by emerald bamboo, a narrow path winding through mist and haze—its atmosphere deep and far-reaching.
The moment one stepped inside, one could sense a faint fragrance drifting through the air and hear quiet, unobtrusive sounds.
The study was lined with shelves upon shelves of books, piled layer upon layer, the scent of ink striking the nose. A wall bore Su Zizhan's running script, its strokes dancing like dragons and serpents, grand and magnificent in bearing.
At its center stood a broad, weighty ebony desk. The brush washer, inkstone, paperweight, and wolf-hair brushes were all exquisitely crafted, steeped in antique charm.
Antique display shelves stood on both sides, arranged with curios and jade artifacts, blue-and-white porcelain, bronze censers, and incense boxes. Every piece seemed to have a history, pleasing the eye of any visitor while revealing the master's refined taste.
Against the wall was another soft couch with a low table before it and a full tea set always at hand. One could lie there alone to rest and nourish the spirit, or sit with a kindred soul and discuss the Way, sharing boundless delight.
Add in the Bronze Sparrow Censer with its curling sandalwood smoke, give the