Gu Xingzhao’s gaze was intense. It was obvious—this was the first time she had encountered someone so generous, and she was starting to like Xu Shisan a bit.

It wasn’t really about the money. He was young, good-looking, and had a sweet tongue—who wouldn’t like that?

But Xu Shisan wasn’t as confident. “So, how much do you want?” he asked.

Gu Xingzhao cleared her throat. Even though she was thinking about it, she still had some pride and didn’t want to lose her dignity over a small sum.

She cleared her throat again and made an offer: “Thirty.”

As she spoke, she took a sip of the freshly brewed tea on the table, thinking that with Xu Shisan being so unexpectedly generous, she felt awkward asking for too much.

However, Xu Shisan frowned slightly. Thirty? That was hardly enough for her needs, wasn’t it?

“Thirty is too little. I’ll give you fifty,” he replied.

Gu Xingzhao nearly spat out her tea in surprise.

The clerk standing nearby was equally shocked. “Who does business by giving money away to the customers?” he thought. “At this rate, the young boss is going to ruin the Xu family business.”

Gu Xingzhao quickly waved her hand. “No need, no need. Thirty is enough.”

But Xu Shisan insisted, “Your item is good. I’ll give you fifty.”

Gu Xingzhao bluntly pointed out, “You haven’t even looked at it.”

From the moment he walked in until he sat down, Xu Shisan hadn’t glanced at the jade porcelain vase on the table, which seemed quite careless.

The clerk silently agreed with her: Exactly! At least take a look at the item—it might not even be worth that much. You can’t do business at a loss!

But after hearing Gu Xingzhao’s remark, Xu Shisan did glance at the vase. He confirmed it was a good item without batting an eye. “I’ll give you sixty.”

Gu Xingzhao was stunned. Was he some sort of money-squandering child?

If she really took sixty, she’d probably lose sleep over it that night, her conscience gnawing at her.

After some thought, she said firmly, “Forty. I’ll take forty, no more. If you insist on giving more, I won’t come back here again.”

Xu Shisan immediately straightened up. “Deal, forty it is. But you’re a regular customer, so you have to keep coming back.”

As he said this, he couldn’t help but stare at the red string around Gu Xingzhao’s neck, his mind occupied with thoughts of the jade pendant she wore.

After she collected her money, Gu Xingzhao began asking about other matters.

“Boss Xu, has your family always been in the antique and art business?”

Xu Shisan was surprised by the question. Gu Xingzhao didn’t seem like someone who would be curious about other people’s family matters, let alone interested in him personally.

But since she asked, Xu Shisan was happy to share.

“My family has been in business for generations. We started with regular trade in precious items, but we also owned businesses like restaurants. Over time, we narrowed it down to just antiques and art.”

The more Gu Xingzhao listened, the more she felt that this might be the Xu family she was familiar with. “Do you know when your family started?”

Xu Shisan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The earliest records in our family genealogy date back to the Southern Jin dynasty. That’s when our business began.”

He recalled the dozens of thick genealogy books in the family shrine, chuckling, “It’s funny, the items you’ve been bringing in seem to be from the same period, the Southern Jin. It’s amazing they’ve been preserved so well.”

Even though Gu Xingzhao had never mentioned where these items came from, Xu Shisan had a hunch they were likely inherited, much like the treasures in his own family.

Gu Xingzhao’s heart raced. She was only familiar with modern history, but Xu Shisan mentioned the Southern Jin, a dynasty that must have existed over a thousand years ago—likely during Lu Qing’s time.

“I have some things to take care of, so I’ll be leaving. I’ll come back next time.”

A very pleased Xu Shisan smiled and watched her leave.

After leaving the antique street, Gu Xingzhao immediately searched online for “Southern Jin.” The results confirmed that it was indeed a dynasty from over a thousand years ago, with the royal family surnamed Xiao.

Xiao. Suddenly, she remembered—wasn’t Shunyu’s surname Xiao too? Xiao Jingli!

Gu Xingzhao then added “Lu Qing” to her search, but nothing came up.

Determined, she drove to the city’s largest library. There, she found several historical texts related to the Southern Jin dynasty and checked them out to read at home.

Although history had never interested her, the possibility that the people she had encountered after binding with the system were actual historical figures excited her. She wanted to verify her suspicions.

That afternoon, Gu Xingzhao sat on the living room floor, flipping through the books she had borrowed. Some were official histories, while others were unofficial accounts.

The Southern Jin dynasty had only three emperors. The last emperor’s reign was marred by internal strife. A rebellious minister declared himself ruler of the Northern Jin after the fall of the Southern Jin. However, his brutal policies and heavy taxation led to the swift downfall of his newly established regime, exacerbated by foreign invasions.

Gu Xingzhao read for a long time but found no mention of the Lu family. Given that Lu Qing was a high-ranking official under two emperors, it was odd that there wasn’t even a trace of him in the records.

Could it be that someone, out of fear, deliberately erased all traces of Lu Qing?

Such an act would be typical of that treacherous emperor.

Finding nothing in the official histories, Gu Xingzhao turned to the unofficial account. This text, written by an unknown author, detailed the court’s scandals, often mocking the emperor. It was oddly satisfying to read.

She curled up on the couch with the book, reading until she came across a familiar name—Liu Chengye.

Wasn’t this the imperial censor who was beaten to death?

Excited, Gu Xingzhao continued reading. The unofficial history described Liu Chengye as a rare, honest official who repeatedly angered the emperor with his remonstrations, leading to his death by flogging.

His only son, Liu Xiangbai, fled to the north, seeking justice for his father. He became an advisor to Xiao Lan, the self-proclaimed king of Northern Jin, helping him rise to power. Liu Xiangbai repeatedly urged Xiao Lan to rule justly, but like his father, he was eventually beaten to death.

Gu Xingzhao’s hands trembled as she read. Liu Xiangbai ended up serving Su King? And met the same fate as his father?

Swallowing nervously, her fingers stiffly turned the pages until she found a passage about Lu Qing.

Emperor Xiao Yun of Southern Jin had left a trusted advisor to guide his son, Xiao Zhan. This advisor was none other than Lu Qing, known by his courtesy name Zide, who held the title of Grand Councellor.

Lu Qing was a righteous man, deeply concerned for the welfare of the people. He was one of the few officials brave enough to confront the emperor about his mistakes.

Gu Xingzhao was almost certain this was the same old man she knew. If he hadn’t been so upright, he wouldn’t have been exiled with his entire clan by that treacherous emperor.

She continued reading. The unofficial history noted that Emperor Xiao Zhan was indulgent in pleasures, filling his harem and constructing grand palaces, raising taxes to support his lifestyle. Lu Qing repeatedly opposed him, much to the emperor’s displeasure. Eventually, Lu Qing was stripped of his position and his entire clan was exiled.

Gu Xingzhao gripped the book tightly, her knuckles turning white as she stared at the last line.

Lu Qing died en route to exile. His family was repeatedly attacked by bandits, leaving only a few survivors.