The next day.
Morning light filtered through the study window, pale and cool. It caught the dust motes drifting in the air and settled across the wooden desk where the half‑phoenix seal lay.
Shen Yao sat before it, his elbows resting on the desk, his chin on his folded hands. He had spent the night turning it over in his mind—the pattern, the rubies, the clean break. The candle had burned down to a stub before he'd finally slept.
He needed answers.
But he needed someone who could identify the seal's origin without asking too many questions. Someone discreet. Someone who wouldn't cause unnecessary trouble.
He found Xi Shu in the corridor after breakfast.
"I need a skilled antique merchant," Shen Yao said. "Someone who knows foreign relics."
Xi Shu paused mid-step, considering.
"There's Old Zheng," he said after a moment. "He traded in relics and antiquities before retiring. He has a reputation for discretion, and he owes Old Master Shen a favor. For saving his life, I believe."
Shen Yao nodded. "Arrange a meeting then."
"I'll send word immediately."
Shen Yao returned to his study, wrapped the seal carefully in a square of dark cloth, and tucked it into his sleeve. The weight of it pressed against his forearm—small, but present.
Then he left.
---
The journey took longer than expected.
Old Zheng's shop was tucked into a narrow alley off the eastern market—a place where the streets grew thin and the noise of the city faded to a distant hum. The wooden sign above the door was weathered and unassuming, its characters faded almost to illegibility.
Shen Yao dismounted and pushed the door open.
The air inside was thick with the scent of old paper, dust, and dried herbs. Large shelves lined the walls, cluttered with scrolls, bronze trinkets, and fragments of pottery. A thin layer of dust coated the surfaces—not neglect, but the quiet accumulation of years.
Behind a low counter, an old man sat examining an antique pendant.
He was thin, his face lined with age, his fingers delicate as they turned the pendant over in the light. A cup of tea sat beside him, long since cooled, a thin ring of stain marking the cup's surface.
He glanced up as Shen Yao entered.
Recognizing his visitor, Old Zheng set the pendant aside and rose to his feet. Though older by seniority, he was merely a merchant with no rank or title.
"Young Master Shen," he said, bowing slightly.
Shen Yao waved his hand. "Don't. It's not necessary."
"You and Grandfather are old friends. I'm a junior—I wouldn't dare accept such a greeting."
Old Zheng straightened, studying Shen Yao with quiet appreciation. He, of course had heard the rumors. The eldest young master of the Shen family—the wastrel, the disappointment, the boy who had nearly died.
But rumors, he knew, rarely told the whole story.
This young man was different.
"Take a seat," Old Zheng said, gesturing toward the plush cushion near Shen Yao's feet.
Shen Yao nodded and sat. "Thank you."
The old man settled back behind the counter. "If I may.... can I see the object in question?"
Shen Yao nodded. He drew the cloth‑wrapped seal from his sleeve and set it on the counter, unfolding the fabric carefully.
"This is it."
Old Zheng's gaze settled on the seal immediately.
His fingers moved—slowly, carefully—picking it up and turning it over in his palm. He held it to the light, examined the rubies, traced the broken edge with his thumb.
The shop fell silent.
Then he set it down.
"So," Shen Yao said.
"What did you find?"
Old Zheng narrowed his eyes. He sat up straighter, his gaze locking onto Shen Yao with a seriousness that had not been there before.
"Before I answer that," he said, rubbing his chin,
"May I ask where Young Master got this trinket?"
Shen Yao frowned. "Is there a problem?"
"No problem at all." Old Zheng paused.
"In fact, no problem at all, I'm just surprised that something like this appeared here in Ming with you considering its origin."
He rubbed his fingers over the texture of the seal, a slight smile appearing on his face.
"I can see you're aware that the craftsmanship is foreign. As for these rubies—they aren't from Ming either. If I'm not wrong, they can only be found in one place."
He paused.
"The northern mines."
Shen Yao's pulse quickened. "Northern mines?"
"Yes. It should be Dalishu. Most likely." He narrowed his eyes.
"The style is old. Very old."
"Can you identify the pattern?" Shen Yao asked.
"Or who owned it?"
Old Zheng observed the seal a little longer, his brow furrowed.
"It should be a phoenix," he said slowly. "But from the carvings and design, it seems slightly different. The tail curves differently. The wings are raised—higher than the usual Ming style."
He paused.
"But to tell you the truth, Young Master, I've seen this pattern before. Years ago. A friend of mine had come back from the north and showed me a similar painting. He said it was related to the royal seal—used by the Dalishu imperial family."
Shen Yao's hands stilled.
"A royal seal?"
Old Zheng nodded. "Yes. If I remember correctly, the phoenix in their seal curves like this. But this one..." He traced the broken edge again. "It's been broken, so it's hard to tell for sure."
Shen Yao's mind raced.
A royal seal. A broken one.
Why?
Why was it given to him to begin with?
No—actually, it should be: why was it given to Shen Yao?
This whole situation was going way out of hand.
Old Zheng set the seal down and pushed it back toward Shen Yao.
"That's all I can tell you," He said.
"But... you haven't answered my question yet, Young Master Shen."
Shen Yao looked at him, confused.
"I asked where you got such a rare treasure from."
"Oh." Shen Yao wrapped the seal in the cloth and tucked it back into his sleeve.
"A friend gifted it to me."
"A friend." Old Zheng glanced at his cold cup of tea. "Then this friend of yours is very interesting."
"Indeed." Shen Yao rose from his seat.
"Thank you, Old Zheng."
The old man nodded and picked up his tea.
"It's my pleasure, Young Master Shen. I hope to meet this friend of yours someday."
---
Shen Yao stepped out of the shop and paused.
The street was quiet. A few merchants moved along the alley, their carts rattling over the uneven stones. A stray cat darted between shadows.
He glanced around—at the people, the buildings, the pale sky above—and let his thoughts settle.
First, Yu Xie's sudden appearance and the seal. The seal had come from him, and now he'd learned it originated from Dalishu.
Then the envoy from the same place who just happens to carry an item with the same carving as said seal.
Also remembering every single time, he had questioned Yu Xie, yet he refused to speak and now all of this
He honestly felt that at this point If all of this still counted as coincidence, then perhaps he hadn't deserved to become the heir to the Shen conglomerate in his past life
Thinking of Guo Yun. The pale blue eyes. The white robes. The fan with the same pattern.
He should know what this is all about.
He took a deep breath. Now that the facts were in front of him, he couldn't pretend he didn't see them.
He rubbed his forehead and climbed back onto his horse.
He headed toward Fragrance Tea House.
He needed to think about how he would approach this problem.