An Account

"Lord Zuo, please!"

Outside Spring Dawn Teahouse, the old man in white personally opened the rear door of the Rolls-Royce for Zuo Yi.

After Zuo Yi got into the car, he took the front passenger seat as well.

The driver was a middle-aged man who had accompanied the old man in white to the teahouse's private room earlier.

Naturally, this middle-aged man was no ordinary person, but at this moment, he was just as nervous as the old man in white.

If Zuo Yi suddenly attacked on the way to Bai Estate, the odds of the two of them surviving would be very low.

His concern was perfectly understandable.

As the saying went, a wealthy man did not sit beneath a collapsing wall. If it were him, he certainly would not have willingly gone into his enemy's lair.

He feared that Zuo Yi might change his mind on the road.

But the middle-aged man's worries were clearly unnecessary. Zuo Yi had been wanting to meet the head of the Bai family, the hereditary Marquis of Southern Suppression.

The Bai family held a very special position in Daxia.

For other noble families, unless they rendered extraordinary service, their titles were demoted by one rank with each generation. After a few generations, they would lose their former glory.

Yet every successive head of the Bai family had inherited the title of Marquis of Southern Suppression, unchanged for centuries.

Although they had not reached the point of ruling one region independently, the Bai family's status in An Yue had always been as steady as bedrock. Successive Daxia Cabinets had generally favored conciliation toward them and had never resorted to force.

Zuo Yi did not know much about the Bai family. What he knew so far had all come from Fang Xiaohui.

For instance,