Xia Qingqian felt a knot in her heart, looking at the pieces scattered on the ground. She was montarily at a loss, forgetting about the pain in her hands and the sting around her waist. It was then she realized there was another person in the room, and she faintly felt a cold glare attempting to see through her, forcing her to stiffen her posture.
She slowly stood up, turned around to et the gaze, and slightly raised the corners of her lips, her eyes quickly glancing at the face of the Night Wind Housekeeper.
Ye Feng, like Beitang Yao, emitted a cold aura, but lacked the kingly deanor that Beitang Yao possessed. Ye Feng was cold but remained a diligent and cautious housekeeper.
"Miss Xia, if there’s nothing else, please return to your room and rest." Ye Feng said lightly, then squatted down, personally picking up the pieces and placing them into a cloth bag specifically used for maintaining antiques.
Xia Qingqian’s feet disobeyed as she walked beside Ye Feng, squatted down to pick up the pieces together, and asked in a low voice, "Housekeeper Ye Feng, is this vase very important to the young master?"
Ye Feng gave her a cold sidelong glance and took the pieces from her hand, "This is an openwork porcelain vase from the Qianlong period of the Qing Dynasty, what do you think?" He continued picking up the other pieces.
Xia Qingqian was suddenly dumbfounded, a Qing Dynasty antique! Wealthy people love antiques, sparing no expense to collect all kinds of priceless treasures. From the young master’s angry expression, she knew he lanted more than just an antique, there were other factors involved.
She stretched out her uninjured hand and grasped Ye Feng’s arm, "Housekeeper Ye Feng, please tell how much it was bought for." She asked with barely any strength, rely holding on, waiting for Ye Feng’s quoted price.
"Five hundred million," Ye Feng said coldly, "Its value isn’t in the five hundred million but in its importance to the young master."
Beitang Yao returned to the room, looked at the family photo of three hanging on the wall, eyes reddening, a thin mist swirling in his eyes. But how could the cold-hearted him have a vulnerable side? His birth dictated that he could not be weak; he was the son of the father’s official wife, with a half-brother’s oppression above and children of various houses and uncles nipping at his heels.
Therefore, he lived with the need to exert dozens, even hundreds of tis more effort than ordinary people, striving to be the best in everything he did, with no right to say no.
Over twenty years of trials and hardships molded his cold and decisive personality, leaving no expectations for emotions. His father’s three concubines and four mistresses throughout his life disgusted and even repelled him.
"Young Master—" Ye Feng’s emotionless soft voice drifted in.
The sudden sound of Ye Feng’s voice snapped Beitang Yao back to reality. He withdrew his gaze from the photo on the wall, tidied his emotions, and cleared his throat, "Co in."
Ye Feng entered the room with a bag of fragnts and stopped at a distance of ten feet from Beitang Yao, "Young Master, I have contacted a ceramics restoration master. I believe the openwork porcelain vase can be restored soon."
Beitang Yao chuckled lightly, eyes tinged with a trace of desolation, "If you can’t guarantee it’s exactly the sa as before, don’t just make promises here!" he cursed softly.
Since getting involved with this foolish woman, there haven’t been many peaceful days.
Ye Feng stood still as he heard the words, unsure how to continue, only bowing his head, standing there silently.
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