15. The Ring Activates Again

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Yang Fan returned to the small courtyard of the iron smelting workshop late at night. By the moonlight, he could clearly see that the yard had been tidied up spotless. Guards were stationed at the main gate and the entrances of the various warehouses. Upon seeing Yang Fan, they bowed and greeted him respectfully as "Master." Yang Fan grew increasingly satisfied with Zhao Fu’s management; after a hearty meal, everything had been arranged in perfect order.

Three guards were assigned to stay in the gatehouse.

The gatehouse was on the east side of the main gate. Upon entering, there was a screen wall directly ahead. To the left was a door that led into the front courtyard.

Along the south side of the front courtyard was a row of backward-facing rooms. In the middle was a narrow yard, and to the north was a wall. In the center of the wall was a hanging flower gate.

The wall was actually the southern corridor wall of the inner courtyard. Passing through the hanging flower gate led into the inner courtyard.

To the right of the main gate was another door. Inside, three sides were surrounded by buildings, and in the center was a modest courtyard. This was the gatehouse, perfectly suited for the three guards, one room each. Their duty was to watch the gate.

According to regulations, the gatehouse was not permitted to enter beyond the hanging flower gate.

Yang Fan walked through the hanging flower gate and followed the corridor to the main northern room. Entering the main hall, he saw lamps lit inside.

Two girls of about fourteen or fifteen sat on chairs, one hand propping up their chins, nodding off. Hearing the door, they quickly stood and came forward to salute.

Yang Fan had not expected anyone inside. Upon closer look, he saw the two girls had slender but delicate faces. Though they could not compare to Lin Yue Ru’s ethereal beauty, they were young.

At eighteen, there is no such thing as an ugly girl. Youth is true beauty.

Suddenly, Yang Fan felt something strange about the two.

“Hey, both of you, look up,” Yang Fan said in surprise.

Two identical faces stared back, leaving Yang Fan momentarily stunned.

“Are you from this courtyard? What are your names?” he asked.

“Xiang Ying and Xiang Yi, greetings, Master. Our parents signed death contracts as household slaves. We are born servants of the family,” they replied.

After the initial shock, Yang Fan calmed down. Having experienced so much today, he had little patience to fuss over two little girls.

The sisters helped Yang Fan change his shoes and remove his coat. Yang Fan, exhausted, prepared to go to the bedroom to sleep, but found the two girls followed him inside.

Surprised, Yang Fan said, “Why are you not going to sleep? Why did you come in?”

The two girls blushed deeply. One, bolder than the other, stammered, “Steward Zhao asked us sisters to come warm the bed for Master.”

Yang Fan was furious. They were so young. That old beast—how could he lay hands on such children? Tomorrow, he vowed to scold him fiercely and forbid such nonsense.

With so many secrets of his own, Yang Fan dared not let unrelated people get so close. He had no one he fully trusted nearby, so caution was best.

Resolute, Yang Fan decided that from now on, no one could enter the second gate’s hanging flower gate without his permission.

He would also bolt the second gate from the inside.

“I don’t need anyone to serve me here. You should go back to sleep,” Yang Fan said sternly. “Also, tell Steward Zhao that I forbid no one from entering the second gate, but you will stay in the backward-facing rooms from now on. I do not forbid you from entering the inner courtyard.”

The two girls lowered their heads and agreed, then turned and left the room.

Through the thin, translucent paper of the window, Yang Fan saw the two little girls bow their heads, their faces full of fear. They went to the east wing room, hugged their bedding, and returned to the backward-facing rooms in the front courtyard.

Their expressions seemed uneasy, uncertain of what they had done wrong to anger Master.

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Yang Fan sat on the bed, gazing faintly through the thin window paper at the moon above, sighing deeply, unsure how to return.

As his mind emptied, strands of moonlight began to flicker faintly over the ring’s surface. Instinctively, Yang Fan touched the ring’s face with his finger and murmured, “How do I open it?”

Suddenly, the light before him shimmered and distorted, and a luminous portal opened.

Yang Fan jumped up in surprise. How had it opened? What had he done just now? Carefully recalling, step by step: yes, he had touched the ring’s face with his right index finger and thought “open.”

He tried again, touching the ring’s face and thinking “close.”

The light portal vanished instantly.

Overjoyed, Yang Fan realized he had finally found the way to open the portal.

He continued experimenting, touching the ring’s face and thinking “return.”

The light shifted, and Yang Fan suddenly found himself back at the construction site—the very place where he had disappeared. So the return coordinate was the place he had left.

If he wanted to return to the Ming Dynasty, would the coordinate be that very bedroom?

Yang Fan looked at the Ming Dynasty clothes he was wearing, touched the ring’s face, and thought again, “return.”

The light shifted, and he was back in the bedroom.

It worked. Damn, no more messing around. He would pack up and run, return to the modern era, no more fear or worry.

But wait—if he could leave anytime, why be afraid of danger? If danger arose, he could simply disappear.

Realizing this, he thought traveling between the two times was actually quite fun. He could stay wherever he wanted.

That was the plan. But first, he would return and see about selling a set of armor to get some money.

Yang Fan hurriedly found his old camouflage suit, which had been washed spotless by the twin girls. Anxiously, he changed clothes, folded a set of Eight Banners armor, packed it into a large bundle, and slung it over his back.

Activating the ring.

The light shifted, and Yang Fan returned to the construction site.

Looking at the sky, time was synchronized on both sides—it was midnight here too, the fifteenth night of the lunar month, with a big, full moon. Both worlds shared the same full moon.

Excited, Yang Fan quickly left the site, carrying his big bundle. If anyone thought he was a thief, he could explain.

He hailed a taxi on the street and got inside.

“Where to?” the driver, an old man, asked casually.

“To Chaoyang, find a cheap hotel,” Yang Fan replied.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Yang Fan relaxed fully against the back seat, feeling a wave of comfort upon returning. It was an indescribable ease.

Through the window, he saw the imperial capital at midnight—bright moon, few stars, the streets quiet and sparse. Occasionally, a car sped by, making a rustling sound.

Returning felt so good.

Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a hotel. Yang Fan glanced at the sign: Yishi Hotel.

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“This place is clean and cheap, less than three hundred yuan a day. Does that work for you?” the driver asked.

Yang Fan gave an OK sign and got out with his belongings.

He checked in and paid a ten-day deposit.

As soon as he entered the room, he threw the forty-kilogram bundle onto the sofa.

Yang Fan stretched out on the large bed, still wearing his shoes. His eyelids felt as heavy as lead, and soon he fell into a deep sleep.

This was the first restful sleep since his time travel.

He awoke to the morning sun, over ten o’clock.

Stretching lazily, he felt wonderfully comfortable.

The hotel breakfast had ended, so Yang Fan decided to skip it.

Grabbing his bundle and room card, he left and hailed a cab straight to the largest, possibly the nation’s biggest, Polly Auction Company in the imperial capital.

With a mixture of nervousness, Yang Fan entered the Polly building’s grand lobby on the first floor.

The five-story-high atrium was paved with expensive stone, marble pillars gleamed like mirrors. The hall bustled with well-dressed businessmen in suits and polished shoes. Women wore exquisite makeup and designer dresses, carrying expensive bags.

Yang Fan had never been to such a high-class place in his life. Since leaving the countryside, he had worked on construction sites. Though in the same city, it felt like two different worlds.

“Sir, may I help you?” a beautifully made-up woman in a gray suit asked as she noticed him dazedly standing there. A name badge indicated she was a receptionist.

“I... I have some antiques I want to have appraised. If possible, I want to consign them to Polly Auction,” Yang Fan said.

“Polly Auction is on the tenth floor. You need an appointment to enter. Do you have one?”

“No, I came directly,” Yang Fan said awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, without someone from their team to escort you, you can’t get past the security gates.”

“I don’t have their contact information. Could you please help me by giving me their number?”

“Sorry, I can’t help you with that.”

Just then, a man in his forties accompanied by a secretary carrying a file bag came down the elevator. He noticed the leather bundle Yang Fan carried, his gaze sharpening as he studied it closely.

“Manager Guan, the car is waiting outside.”

“No rush. Let’s go take a look first.”