The Huntington estate sprawled across a vast rise at the southern end of Woodstock Park, covering a thousand acres. The castle’s front boasted a labyrinthine garden where young John used to play. The estate was designed by Peter Swiden, a protégé of the renowned "Master Brown." Swiden had sourced exotic plants from around the globe to adorn the estate, which featured towering evergreens in the front, and an endless, gently sloping lawn at the back. The garden was a riot of color with daffodils, evening primroses, bougainvilleas, tulips, roses, lilies, water lilies, camellias, and some unnamed flowers, blooming in all seasons and rivaling the Chelsea Flower Show in London.

　　The castle, with its three stories, housed a reception room, lounge, dining room, study, smoking room, and several guest rooms on the ground floor. The second and third floors were devoted to bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. To the right of the castle was a two-story building for the staff, connected by a long corridor. The building’s first floor included storage rooms, a kitchen, a boiler room, and a warehouse, while the second floor was for the servants' quarters.

　　The reception room, the largest room on the first floor, featured a full-length portrait of Queen Victoria in a prominent spot, looking down imperiously. Above the Queen’s portrait were several slightly smaller half-length portraits, mostly of men in military uniforms. Each of these portraits was painted in a uniform style, with identical expressions, poses, and dark brown backgrounds.

　　Liyan asked John if these portraits were painted by the same artist. The answer was yes—these portraits were all created by a painter employed by the John family, who was supported until his old age and death. The portraits depicted ancestors of the Huntington family, with the first being his great-great-grandfather. John boasted that the Huntington estate was awarded to his great-great-grandfather as a reward for his distinguished service in England’s foreign wars. Liyan scoffed at this, noting that these wars were nothing more than British colonial invasions in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Colonial-era Britain was essentially a pirate gang masquerading as a nation.

　　On the second-floor landing hung a massive tapestry depicting Westerners visiting a Chinese court. The background of the tapestry featured a pagoda resembling a crown of pineapple leaves, with a white peacock perched on an arched pavilion. The pavilion’s columns were adorned with winged dragons, and the avenue trees were uniformly coconut palms. Aside from the accurate depiction of Chinese officials in traditional attire and long braids, the rest of the scene was a fantasy of the artist’s imagination. The artist had no real knowledge of China and mistook it for a tropical country like India. Unfortunately, many in today’s world still misunderstand China, much like this ancient artist. Liyan had faced similar misconceptions during her studies abroad, with classmates asking if Chinese people wore long robes and melon hats, or if they had ever seen eggs and bacon before. The underlying implication was that China was so poor it couldn’t afford meat.

　　In the corridor linking the estate’s main house to the staff quarters, there was a bell board with thirty lines extending from thirty metal rings, each representing one of thirty rooms—bedrooms, dining room, library, grand living room, main entrance, back door, study, reception room, and guest rooms. In the past, a dedicated young lad was on duty around the clock, ready to alert the appropriate maid or servant whenever the bell rang, ensuring that the master’s call was swiftly communicated to the right person. At the height of its grandeur, the Huntington estate housed over a hundred residents. Now, the estate felt nearly deserted compared to its former splendor. Apart from Mrs. Huntington, John, and Liyan, Catherine returned home for a couple of days each month. The current staff included Nanny the butler, two maids including Viara, two drivers, two security guards, and two chefs. The gardener and maintenance workers were hired from outside and worked five days a week, not residing on the estate.

　　Young people in Oxfordshire typically sought employment in bustling cities like London or Birmingham. While Oxford was perfect for studying and sightseeing, it offered little for ambitious youth. Nowadays, no British white women were willing to work as servants at the estate, forcing Mrs. Huntington to hire women with immigrant backgrounds like Viara. These women were hardworking and cost-effective, and their lack of roots in Britain made them less likely to voice complaints or reveal their employers’ private matters.

　　Viara’s family had sacrificed everything for her chance to work in the UK. She needed to send money home promptly, not only to support her younger siblings but also to repay the fees to the labor agency. Despite the hardship and being far from home, she remained grateful to her parents for their trust, as finding a job with such “good pay” back home was unthinkable. Viara was determined to establish herself in Britain and hoped to eventually bring her siblings over, or else she would have to make it on her own—returning home without achieving anything was simply not an option.

　　Nanny was a particularly unique figure; few upper-class British families retained the old-fashioned airs of an aristocratic butler. Nanny was intensely loyal to Mrs. Huntington, having entirely given up her own rights to create a family or build a new life. She was like a faithful sentinel, always guarding Mrs. Huntington. Despite Liyan’s efforts to be friendly, Nanny remained frosty. Her rigidity seemed deeply ingrained, as though she had been molded by strict discipline from a young age, having long forgotten the ease of a more relaxed demeanor.

　　The estate’s castle was designed in a square layout, with bedrooms situated on the southern side. By counting the windows and doors, Liyan estimated that each floor contained 48 rooms, totaling 96 rooms across the second and third floors. They used only four bedrooms on the second floor, leaving 92 rooms untouched. From the outside, the windows of these unused rooms were tightly covered with paper. When they first moved in, Liyan had asked John, “Why are these rooms sealed so tightly?”

　　“Since there aren’t many people living here, a lot of the rooms have fallen into disrepair. Sealing them off helps with maintenance,” John explained.

　　“You could use curtains for that. Why seal the windows so tightly with paper?” Liyan asked.

　　“Inside are antique oil paintings and furniture. We can’t let sunlight damage them,” John replied.

　　“Have you ever seen inside these rooms?” Liyan inquired.

　　“When I was a child, my grandfather showed me one or two rooms. They were filled with oil paintings, sculptures, and antique furniture. I don’t really remember what they looked like anymore.” John’s responses clearly didn’t satisfy Liyan.

　　Liyan teased, “Aren’t you even a little curious? Maybe your house is full of treasures like Pemberley.”

　　“I’m not like you; I’ve never had any interest in such things,” John said dismissively.

　　“It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper ‘treasure hunt.’ I’ve almost forgotten how to use a Luoyang shovel,” Liyan said, her disappointment evident.

　　John suddenly smacked his forehead. “My grandfather gave me a key the year I went to Eton, claiming it was the key to our family’s destiny. How about we search for it together when I find it?”

　　“It’s a deal!” Liyan agreed enthusiastically.

　　Before they knew it, Christmas had arrived, marking Liyan’s first holiday at the estate, and Oxford had once again fallen silent. Snowflakes drifted down thick and fast outside, covering the world like a television screen with no signal. Mrs. Huntington busied herself directing the servants in Christmas preparations. With nothing else to do, Liyan wandered around the estate. She ventured to the northern corridor on the second floor, where the heating didn’t reach. It was perpetually dark and damp, with a musty smell of an abandoned old house. Liyan shivered and wrapped her woolen shawl tighter around herself. She approached a dark brown wooden door, its paint peeling away to reveal the raw wood beneath. The bronze doorknob was rusted, but the keyhole was polished and shiny, reflecting a cold, silvery light that seemed to make the air even chillier. Liyan gingerly tried each spherical doorknob in turn. After trying one door, then two, and failing to open the third, she gave up and decided to head back to her room, sneezing suddenly.

　　“Who’s there?”

　　Liyan recognized Nanny’s voice. She held her breath, hoping to slip away unnoticed, but the footsteps were drawing closer.

　　Nanny appeared and asked sharply, “What are you doing here?”

　　“I was just taking a walk,” Liyan explained. “It’s snowing, so I didn’t want to go outside.”

　　“This is a restricted area. No one is allowed here without Mrs. Huntington’s permission, including you,” Nanny said with a stern look.

　　Liyan apologized, “I didn’t realize this was off-limits. I’m sorry. I’ll leave right away.”

　　Liyan quickly maneuvered around Nanny and headed toward the southern bedrooms. She could feel Nanny’s intense gaze on her, like a vigilant guardian.

　　“When did this place become off-limits? Nanny is so peculiar,” Liyan muttered to herself, growing increasingly annoyed with Nanny’s overbearing demeanor.
  

　　With the New Year just over and the spring auction season approaching, Mrs. Huntington encouraged everyone to keep up the momentum from last fall's auction and aim for even greater success. The Huntington Auction House was once again in full swing, with everyone working overtime.

　　Manager Hopkins approached Liyan and asked, “Can you authenticate bronze artifacts and Buddhist statues?”

　　“I’m not an expert, but I did study them a bit while at Peking University,” Liyan replied.

　　“Could you evaluate two pieces of artwork for us? They’ve just arrived and are stored in the Asian warehouse,” Hopkins requested.

　　One of the items for Liyan to authenticate was a Western Zhou dynasty bronze water vessel known as the “Tiger Ying,” and the other was a stone Buddha head from the Wei, Jin, Northern, and Southern Dynasties period.

　　The “Tiger Ying,” a rare Western Zhou bronze artifact from about 3,000 years ago, earned its name from the tiger-shaped design on its lid and spout. During Liyan’s third year at Peking University, Professor Xia Naiwen, a renowned archaeologist, had devoted most of a class to discussing this artifact and its history. The previous owner of this “Tiger Ying”—British Navy Colonel Harry Levis Evans—had participated in the looting of the Old Summer Palace during the Second Opium War. In letters to his family, he detailed his plundering of valuable artifacts, including bronze vessels, enamelware, and porcelain, and his involvement in the “Great Party” that set fire to the palace. His letters were filled with a conqueror’s pride and were later compiled and published by his descendants. Professor Xia’s pained expression when recounting this shameful history was still vivid in Liyan’s memory.

　　Only eight “Ying” vessels remain in the world, with one in China and the other seven scattered overseas. The “Tiger Ying” at Huntington’s auction house is unique in its design, expertly crafted, and has minimal restoration, making it highly valuable for research. Liyan concluded that it was genuine. The thought of a Chinese national treasure appearing at a British family auction house, only to be sold to someone else, troubled her. If she had enough money, she would buy the “Tiger Ying” and return it to China. She asked Manager Hopkins, “Is this the same ‘Tiger Ying’ that belonged to Colonel Evans?”

　　Hopkins, maintaining professionalism, replied, “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that. The client has requested strict confidentiality regarding their identity.”

　　The second item, the stone Buddha head, dated between 1,400 and 1,600 years ago, measured about 15 cm in height. Its face was slender with Han Chinese features, high forehead, and delicate features. The hairstyle was a shallow, spiral type, with a high ushnisha. Without the lower part of the neck, Liyan could not narrow down the exact period further based on clothing folds. Given the proportion of the head, the complete statue would likely stand around 1 meter tall. Even as just a head, it was worth tens of thousands of pounds; a complete statue would be worth even more.

　　“Mr. Hopkins, is this Buddha head also genuine? And where is the rest of the statue?” Liyan asked.

　　Hopkins shrugged. “I don’t know. The client sent it like this.”

　　Liyan examined the smooth, clean break on the neck of the Buddha head. The cut was made with a sharp tool, showing no signs of long-term exposure to the elements or corrosion. Despite its over-thousand-year history, the break was recent, likely within the last decade. It was rare for an artifact to be preserved so well, and it seemed incomprehensible that someone would deliberately saw it off before auctioning. Liyan pressed, “Who is the client for this Buddha head?”

　　Hopkins shook his head, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. Liyan couldn’t extract any useful information from him. She admired Hopkins’ ability to keep secrets, which was no doubt why Mrs. Huntington valued him so highly.

　　In March, a fierce cold wave swept through, bringing strong winds. In her sleep, Liyan vaguely heard a creak, like an old wooden door that hadn’t been oiled in ages being pushed open. She woke up with a start. Then she heard light, stealthy footsteps. Feeling scared, she hesitated for a moment and then nudged John. “Wake up, I just heard the door open. Could it be a burglar?”

　　John had been so exhausted from working overtime recently that he could fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was in a deep sleep and took a while to wake up even with Liyan’s persistent nudging. Without even opening his eyes, he turned over and said, “The wind probably knocked something over.”

　　Liyan insisted, “But I heard footsteps too.”

　　John reluctantly opened his eyes and pretended to listen for a moment. “I don’t hear anything. You’re just overtired and jumpy. Go back to sleep.”

　　“I can’t rest easy. Mom is sleeping in the next room. What if it’s really a thief?”

　　“Fine, I’ll get up and check. Otherwise, you won’t sleep tonight.” John grumbled as he got out of bed.

　　They both put on their coats and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Suddenly, a shadow appeared before them, and John quickly moved to shield Liyan. The shadow was cast by a faint light behind it. Startled, John fumbled for the switch on the wall, and the corridor lights flickered on, revealing Mrs. Huntington with Nanny right behind her. Nanny held a dim flashlight, illuminating Mrs. Huntington’s path.

　　“Mom, why didn’t you turn on the lights? We thought there was a burglar. You scared us to death,” John complained.

　　Mrs. Huntington explained, “I heard a noise and came to check. I didn’t turn on the lights to avoid disturbing you.”

　　Still groggy, John asked, “What happened?”

　　“A branch from the cedar tree blew down and knocked open an old window. Nanny, have the gardener trim the cedar branches tomorrow.”

　　“Yes, ma’am,” Nanny replied.

　　“You two should go back to sleep. You have work tomorrow,” Mrs. Huntington said.

　　John pulled Liyan back to the bedroom. “See, I told you it was just the wind.”

　　Liyan was skeptical. Nanny lived in the servants’ quarters; how did Mrs. Huntington notify her so quickly, and how did she get to the main house so fast? Nanny was dressed as impeccably as she was during the day, not like someone who had rushed over from the servants’ quarters. And if they were really checking for something suspicious, why was Nanny calmly walking behind Mrs. Huntington instead of protecting her from the front?

　　“Stop overthinking it and go to sleep,” John said. “Old Tom is very diligent. Besides, our estate has CCTV. If a thief broke in, Old Tom would have caught it by now.”

　　John’s reassurance put Liyan somewhat at ease, and he soon drifted back to sleep, overwhelmed by fatigue.

　　Liyan still felt something was off but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

　　At the first spring auction, Huntington Auction House followed its usual practice of maximizing profits by featuring high-value items. To hone his son's business skills, Mrs. Huntington had John host the event. Liyan arrived early at the small chapel, choosing an unobtrusive seat in the back, eagerly watching John prepare to lead his first auction.

　　Half an hour before the auction began, Oxford's St. Jemis Chapel was already packed. The well-dressed gentlemen nodded greetings to one another, being regulars and well-acquainted. Two elderly gentlemen, both in their sixties, sat side by side. The one with gold-rimmed glasses asked the one wearing a deerstalker hat, "Which piece are you eyeing this time?" The hat-wearing gentleman replied nonchalantly, "I'm not particularly keen on any piece. I'm just here to support Mrs. Huntington." The bespectacled gentleman ended the conversation with a disbelieving "Oh," suspecting his friend was hiding his true interest to avoid competition. Both knew the real competition extended far beyond the hundred or so people in the chapel. On a long table to the left, ten telephones were lined up, ready for bids from art collectors around the world.

　　“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s auction features Asian art, with forty items to be presented. Let’s get started!” John’s opening was brief and to the point. The first item projected on the white screen beside him was a painted Buddha head from the Liao dynasty. The vivid red headpiece and the serene, compassionate gaze of the Buddha captivated the audience.

　　“Bidding starts at £100,000, with increments of £10,000,” John announced.

　　A man in the second row immediately raised his paddle.

　　“£110,000 from gentleman number 2825.”

　　A dignified woman in the fourth row raised her paddle next.

　　“£120,000 from this lady.”

　　The paddles kept going up, and the competition heated up quickly. The bids soared to £260,000 before finally slowing down.

　　“£260,000 going once,” John paused for ten seconds, “£260,000 going twice.”

　　Just as John was about to bring down the hammer, a gentleman who had been biding his time raised his paddle, signaling an additional £20,000.

　　“£280,000 from gentleman number 2809. Any more bids?” John quickly scanned the room, then repeated, “£280,000.”

　　The woman in the fourth row glanced back at the highest bidder, a resigned expression on her face. Faced with such a generous competitor, she had to concede.

  　　“£280,000, third and final call. Congratulations to gentleman number 2809.” A slight smile finally appeared on the tight-lipped gentleman's face as the audience gave a gentle applause in congratulations. Liyan thought how the auction house was indeed a place where money ruled. Next up was the piece she was particularly interested in—the Western Zhou bronze vessel, the Tiger Ying.

　　Starting again at £100,000, the bids quickly escalated to £390,000. The elderly gentleman, who earlier claimed not to have a favorite, entered the fray, setting the price at £400,000. Just as his friend was about to congratulate him on securing the Tiger Ying, an urgent ring pierced through the chapel's chatter. The old gentleman broke into a sweat, shakily pulling out a handkerchief to dab at his temples, eyes fixed on the phone operator, praying it wasn't bad news. A minute later, the operator signaled John that the caller had bid £410,000.

　　After John brought down the gavel, the elderly gentleman slumped like a deflated soccer ball. £400,000 had been his limit, and he had missed out on the item he wanted. Liyan felt a pang of sympathy for him. She would have preferred the Tiger Ying to be owned by someone she knew in Oxfordshire rather than disappearing into the unknown. She had a naive hope that, one day, when she earned enough money, she might buy it from the old gentleman and return it to China.

　　The auction, which began at 7 PM, lasted for four hours—a true test of endurance. Throughout it all, John remained remarkably lively. Though he refrained from using any sensational language, he seemed born for this role. Without grand gestures, exaggerated expressions, or dramatic intonations, his demeanor was both warm and sincere. The moment he started describing an item, collectors were convinced that missing out would be a huge regret. John’s persuasive voice was a magnet, compelling people to keep raising their paddles. He made each bidder feel their purchase was a bargain, leaving them wishing they had the financial means to win even more. No item went unsold, and the auction concluded with a remarkable average premium of 236%. Liyan thought John was incredibly suited for this job; if he continued, he might come to love the auction business, realizing that his childhood aversion was more about his dislike for his mother than the industry itself.

　　The spring auction ended with Huntington Auction House setting a new revenue record. Everyone was thrilled, and the company rewarded all employees with generous bonuses. John suggested hosting a grand party at the estate, inviting senior management and long-time clients of the auction house. Mrs. Huntington was delighted by the idea, noting that John was becoming increasingly adept at social nuances and showing signs of future leadership. Liyan’s appraisal skills were widely acknowledged, leading to her promotion to Senior Appraiser of Asian Art at Huntington Auction House—a position that typically took six years to attain but which she reached in just six months. She found great fulfillment in her work.

　　Katherine eagerly volunteered to organize the grand party at Huntington Manor. The reception hall was lavishly decorated, and Mrs. Huntington had hired a chamber orchestra to entertain the guests.

　　In the dressing room, Liyan was changing into her evening gown. The minimalist design of the gown was one she adored. Scattered diamonds sparkled on the burgundy velvet, understated yet luxurious—a choice influenced by her mother-in-law, who had rejected several simpler dresses Liyan had selected.

　　“You look absolutely stunning, Miss,” Viola said, adjusting Liyan’s headpiece. “But the pendant doesn’t quite go with your gown.”

　　Liyan glanced at herself in the mirror and realized Viola was right. The jade pendant clashed with the evening gown, looking out of place and slightly awkward.

　　John quietly entered the room, holding a delicate jewelry box.

　　He gently fastened a ruby necklace around Liyan’s neck. “Mom said there wasn’t time to get you a new necklace to match your dress, so she lent you this one. It was the one she wore at her wedding.”

　　Liyan’s eyes sparkled with gratitude. Her mother-in-law’s gesture showed how much she valued her.

　　“Miss, you should head to the reception hall; the guests will be arriving soon,” Viola reminded her.

　　Liyan quickly removed the jade pendant and set it on the dressing table—she wouldn’t need it tonight. She would have more dazzling necklaces in the future to complement her gowns.

　　Hand in hand, she and John walked towards the reception hall.

　　At the estate in Oxfordshire, where the elite from Oxfordshire had gathered, John and Liyan represented Mrs. Huntington, thanking and mingling with the auction house’s long-time clients. Liyan exuded confidence and charm, and her flawless Oxford accent led some to mistakenly believe she was the daughter of a wealthy newcomer to the UK from Hong Kong, arriving just before the 1997 handover.

　　The ideal networking party involves gracefully navigating the crowd with a glass in hand, exchanging pleasantries with everyone. The host should make sure to touch base with all guests, keeping conversations to under five minutes, so each guest feels equally valued, fostering a desire to continue collaborating. Conversations typically revolve around current affairs and celebrity gossip, and a bit of well-timed flattery about recent achievements can be very well received. Few master this skill as well as Mrs. Huntington, who is truly exceptional in this regard.

　　A young waitress in her twenties, carrying a tray of drinks, wove through the crowd with practiced ease. She keenly observed the guests, quickly approaching anyone whose glass was empty or needed refilling. Her eyes met Liyan's, and she gave a shy smile. Liyan recognized her as a student from one of her elective courses and responded with a warm look.

　　Three years ago, Liyan was a struggling PhD student, earning meager extra money as a teaching assistant. She was a poor undergraduate who, like many, once believed that getting into Oxford was the mark of an elite. Reality soon hit hard. As a small-town student from a remote county, she found her proud problem-solving skills were nothing compared to the academic prowess of Oxford's top students. Furthermore, she lacked the perspective and resources of her more privileged peers. She thought she could bridge the gap with hard work, but she quickly found herself exhausted just keeping up with coursework, while also working in a restaurant to cover living expenses. She had once awkwardly attended a party of wealthier classmates, having been mistakenly identified as a waitress rather than a guest. But today, she felt a mix of excitement and pride as she watched the teaching assistant, now in elegant attire, receiving admiration and attention. Liyan’s own success had rekindled the aspirations of those who came after her.

　　Meanwhile, the usually reserved senior staff at the auction house had gathered around John and Liyan, praising their impressive early contributions to the auction house's success.

　　“Ms. Liyan,” a stumbling, somewhat reckless middle-aged man approached them.

　　He was a veteran accountant who had dedicated thirty years to the auction house with the goal of becoming the Financial Director before retiring. However, recently, his coveted position was given to someone less experienced. Liyan had crossed paths with him a few times at the auction house but had never spoken to him directly.

　　Despite the unlimited high-end drinks at the Huntington party, most people practiced moderation. But this inebriated middle-aged man seemed to care little for restraint. He approached with flattery: “Ms. Liyan, you are so young and talented, injecting a breath of fresh air into our once-stagnant auction house and significantly boosting our profits. You truly have surpassed expectations.”

　　The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, with an awkward tension hanging in the air. Before Liyan could bask in the flattery of the man's earlier comments, she noticed the change in the expressions of those around her. Mrs. Huntington, who was about ten paces away, also sensed something was wrong and turned to look.

　　Liyan’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hoped her mother-in-law hadn’t heard the man’s indiscreet remarks. His comments were so blunt that even the most uninformed might misunderstand them as suggesting she was vying to replace Mrs. Huntington. At a loss for words, Liyan didn’t know how to respond.

　　“Mr. McBain, I’m afraid I need to borrow Ms. Liyan for a dance,” John interjected, taking Liyan’s hand and pulling her away from the group. “I’m sure you’ll want to have a chat with my mother.”

　　Thanks to John’s quick thinking and smooth intervention, Liyan’s awkward situation was defused.

　　The elegantly dressed guests danced gracefully around the estate. Liyan reflected on her earlier, more constrained days in Shanghai, the fleeting moments at the Oxford summer ball, and her anxious wait for John’s proposal. Now, she was an indispensable senior appraiser at the company and a key figure at the business party. Although Mr. McBain's comments were inappropriate for the public setting, there was truth in what he said—her seamless partnership with John was revitalizing the auction house. If Mr. McBain had complimented her privately, she would have accepted it graciously.

　　Life might seem long, but destiny—good or bad—is often shaped by just a few pivotal choices: studying abroad, whom to marry, and the first job taken. Most people in their twenties are often clueless and make poor decisions. If she had listened to her mother and returned to China, none of this would have happened. Marrying John was the wisest decision she had ever made. Anna had seen it clearly; with the support of the Huntington family, she no longer had any material concerns.