"": 200,
"": "",
"": "There were two paths beside the landscaped pool, both leading to the main hall at the back.
Mao Yousan took the left path, with Luo Bin close behind.
The main hall facing them was enormous. It was not merely antique in style; its beams, pillars, doors, and windows were all made of wood.
In the sunlight, the wood gleamed a faint, dark gold.
Golden-thread nanmu?
The term suddenly popped into Luo Bin's mind.
His eyelids twitched, and his heart missed a beat.
What immense wealth and audacity did it take to use golden-thread nanmu as a basic building material?
The main hall's doors were closed.
Mao Yousan stepped forward and pushed them open.
A square table stood in the center of the room, also made of golden-thread nanmu.
Ordinary chairs occupied three sides. At the head stood a large armchair, with someone seated in it.
It was an old man in plain cloth clothes, his face peaceful and smiling.
At first glance, he looked alive.
On closer inspection, he still looked alive.
His chest and abdomen rose and fell slightly, his breathing perfectly even.
His hands rested on the armrests. His nails had grown quite long, and his hair was a little long too.
Yet his tightly closed eyes and complete lack of response to their arrival showed that he had long since passed away.
Then Mao Yousan spoke. "I'm always calling him a dead old bastard, but he isn't exactly dead. He isn't alive either. Well, his life force is keeping him going."
"I originally intended to bury him, but he said I couldn't do that until I knew where to bury him."
"Only when I found out could he be laid to rest."
"By a twist of fate, I found you, kid, and