The Qian family's courtyard was very old, a traditional quadrangle courtyard. Despite its age, it was spacious. Walking from the front door to the backyard took at least fifteen minutes, and that was just walking.
The receptionist was a well-dressed middle-aged woman. She wasn't particularly beautiful, but she had a gentle demeanor and the aura of a wealthy noblewoman.
"Sister-in-law, this is Zhao An. Zhao An, this is my sister-in-law, Xu Yan." Qian Yuling introduced them.
"Well, Zhao An, I've heard of you for a long time, and seeing you today is indeed quite impressive. Come, I've prepared a room for you. Rest up first; dinner will be starting soon." Xu Yan smiled gently. As the wife of the head of the family, her personal greeting conveyed her respect.
"Very good, Auntie is very beautiful." Zhao An extended his hand and shook it, nodding slightly. His smile was gentle, another classic con man.
As the group moved forward, Xu Yan noticed that several people's suitcases were high-tech. As the person walked in front, the suitcase followed behind, seemingly controlled by a remote control.
"Your suitcases are very unique," Xu Yan exclaimed, a hint of curiosity in her.
"It's just a small invention, nothing to mention." Zhao An smiled, but didn't continue to introduce it. He was showing off without telling the other party, acting mysterious.
Xu Yan had arranged three rooms, but Qian Yuling placed the suitcase in Zhao An's room. "Just give us one room. I'll go see Mom."
"Okay, I'll take you there." Xu Yan was only slightly stunned, stunned by the fact that her sister-in-law Qian Yuling would so willingly sleep in the same room with a man. Remember, before the Tang family collapsed, Qian Yuling and her husband also slept in separate rooms when they returned. This was quite interesting.
Zhao An had wanted to finalize the business deal first, but then he glanced at Qian Yuling's expression and said nothing. Instead, he followed her on.
The left side of the courtyard was deserted, with only a few elderly people occasionally strolling around. The interior was neatly decorated, with no unnecessary ornamentation. The pale white walls, accented by a few windows from the last century, gave it a retro feel.
It was retro yet stylish, creating a tranquil atmosphere.
"This is a very nice place to rest and recuperate," Zhao An suddenly exclaimed, commenting.
"This place was originally built for the elderly. The older generation of the Qian family lived here. There aren't many people here, but each one was a prominent figure in the last century," Qian Yuling explained, occasionally greeting passersby.
"They've retired, but their connections remain. Even in their old age, their dedication is still very useful," Qian Yuling continued, explaining to her young husband. She had just been fucked for two hours on the plane, and now, aside from her rosy complexion, she walked without a tremor, giving no sign that her womb was still filled with Zhao An's semen.
"That's what they say: 'An old man in the family is like a treasure,'" Zhao An nodded. The old man's connections, or rather, those of the older generation, still proved useful. Sometimes, the favor of helping someone lasted as long as the old man lived. It was a form of awe, a kind of honor, and a form of intimidation.
We passed through a bamboo garden, planted with evergreen bamboo. Circles of stone slabs lay beneath, with raised pebbles on the sides, used for foot massage.
It was clear from the ground that this was indeed a retirement home, a place for the elderly to keep fit.
We arrived at a rather modern two-story building, where servants were cleaning.
Zhao An looked around, and after seeing no signs of an ambush or any other such spectacle, he followed Qian Yuling forward.
The room contained a large pit, with a modern stove underneath. A little coal added to the stove provided warmth at night. The unique design also avoids the risk of excessive carbon dioxide poisoning. This old-fashioned, retro item doesn't feel outdated.
A woman with silver hair sat in a chair, reading a newspaper, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. At first glance, she looked a bit like a different kind of young person, her skin well-maintained, though a few crow's feet at the corners of her eyes hinted at her age.
She didn't look old, though, more like a stylish middle-aged woman.
Qian Yuling looked at the woman before her, her lips moving. "Mom, this is Zhao An. Zhao An, this is my mother, Zheng Peiyi."
"Hello, Madam Qian." Zhao An nodded and glanced at Qian Yuling. His usual dominance seemed lost, a hint of aggrievedness and a touch of fear.
Zheng Peiyi put down the newspaper, a touch of light lipstick on her lips, looking refreshed. "Glad to be back," she turned to Zhao An. "You're quite good, young man."
"You're sick!" Zhao An suddenly exclaimed.
Qian Yuling and Xu Yan both looked at Zhao An in surprise. Qian Yuling tugged at her husband, "What are you talking about?"
"I said your mother is ill, and seriously ill," Zhao An said, looking into Qian Yuling's eyes. Then he looked at the beautiful, silver-haired woman before him. Despite her excellent care, time had spared no one. Even if she looked ageless, she had already reached the level of a middle-aged woman, which was quite extraordinary.
"Zhao An, don't talk nonsense. My mother-in-law isn't ill. You're being rude," Xu Yan snapped. This sudden incident was a slap in the face.
Only Zheng Peiyi maintained a smile, unperturbed by the words. "You're right, I'm ill. Do you know what it is?"
"The whites of your eyes are dim, your lips are slightly cracked, and your right index and middle fingers are slightly yellowed. Your steps are slightly shaky, and your eyesight is unfocused. You have a lot of problems. Have you been feeling dizzy lately? Do you need to calm down to see people clearly? You sweat profusely at night, and your sleep quality isn't good." Zhao An spoke eloquently, having instantly identified something wrong.
This technical jargon left several people stunned. If anyone else had said it, they might have dismissed him as a liar and dismissed him. But Zhao An's words were worth considering. After all, this was someone hailed as a genius.
Geniuses seem unbelievable, but that's because they're essentially no different from lunatics. Who could possibly know the thoughts of a lunatic?