The Ancestral Legacy Begins in the Wild West

Chapter 147 Going to work is like being in prison, so you're really going to arrest me and put me in jail?

Zhang Chang'an was whistling a cheerful tune as he pushed open the glass door of the photography studio.

The exhibition in Guangzhou was a great success. Bingzi Jiaolin and Qingtingqie were displayed in glass cases and received a lot of attention. The old men in the Cultural Relics Bureau valued him even more, and they almost wanted to worship him.

The first income from this exhibition tour has already arrived in his account, more than doubling his savings, and this is just the beginning.

"Awesome—this is awesome! No wonder rich people love collecting antiques." He pondered for a moment, then pushed open the door, beaming, and called out, "Xiao Chi! I'm back!"

At the front desk, a short-haired girl in a dark gray shirt was typing away at a computer screen, her fingers moving so fast and forcefully it was as if she hated the keyboard.

Hearing the voice, she looked up. Her delicate face was etched with an unmistakable air of camaraderie.

"The boss's back," she said, her tone calm and even. "Did you have fun?"

Zhang Chang'an paused, his imposing manner instantly suppressed: "Not bad, not bad, things in Guangzhou are alright."

"Is the roast goose in Guangzhou delicious?" Xiao Chi interrupted him, still with that same smile.

"Uh, it's pretty good."

Is the night view of the Pearl River beautiful?

"----nice."

Zhang Chang'an finally realized the problem: "But how did you know what I went to do?"

Xiaochi didn't speak, but instead gave him a chilling smile: "Your social media is updated in real time, isn't it?"

Zhang Chang'an's smile froze.

"Boss," Koike said calmly, "let me check with you on the progress of our work over the past three days."

Before you left, our studio's reputation had just started to grow. In the past three days, three film crews have come to rent the studio, and seven individual photographers have inquired, with five of them booking shoots directly.

In special circumstances, it rained heavily on the first day and the roof leaked. While I was simultaneously receiving two film crews for external affairs, I contacted three maintenance workers before someone was willing to come and take a look in the pouring rain.

The next day, the owner of the neighboring photography studio came to borrow props. I told him I wasn't there, and he told me to make the decision. I said I couldn't. He asked when my boss would be back, and I said I didn't know. He then said, "What's the point of you being a receptionist?"

"Stop, stop, stop." Zhang Chang'an raised his hands in surrender. "I was wrong, I was really wrong."

Xiao Chi stopped and looked at him, while Zhang Chang'an didn't dare to look at her at all. He was afraid that his psychic vision would suddenly activate and he would see some kind of vengeful spirit behind Xiao Chi. Zhang Chang'an felt uneasy under her gaze and quickly took out his phone: "Okay, I'll send it to you. How much is appropriate? Three hundred?"

Koike shook her head.

"five hundred?"

He still shook his head.

"Seven hundred?"

Koike sighed, her voice filled with not complaint against her boss, but deep weariness: "Boss, I need a vacation."

Zhang Chang'an was stunned.

Koike pulled a work schedule from the drawer and said, "We agreed on five days off per month, but I haven't taken a single day off yet. Now it's perfect, I'm going to take a vacation."

Zhang Chang'an didn't say anything more: "Alright then, since I'm back, you can leave today. How many days off do you need?"

"Three days." Without another word, Xiaochi started packing. Backpack, water bottle, charging cable, and a cloth bag containing unknown contents—she packed very quickly, clearly having prepared in advance.

"I have two consultation appointments and two tent rentals today. I've saved the schedule on my computer. Please remember to attend to them." Xiaochi said without looking up.

Zhang Chang'an walked to the front desk, scratching his chin thoughtfully, and said, "Oh—how much does it cost here again?"

"The price list is in the drawer; please look it up yourself."

"What if—"

Koike patted him on the shoulder: "Boss, you're a mature boss now. I believe you can handle this yourself."

After saying that, Xiaochi rushed out the door. The glass door swayed gently behind her, and sunlight shone through the glass, casting a warm yellow patch of light on the floor.

Zhang Chang'an stood there, unsure which of the two was the cultivator who had transcended the mortal realm.

He paused for a moment, then sat down and, while flipping through computer files, pondered, "Maybe I should hire another employee—"

After reviewing the various work records, he quickly dismissed the idea: "Hmm—forget it, with the size of our shed, hiring two people would be a huge problem, and we wouldn't be able to make much money."

Besides, Koike really does have enough for most things. He silently comforted himself, "It's okay, it's a job with very little work anyway. It'll only take a few days. It's just answering phones, taking down appointments, and occasionally dealing with people who come to rent the shed. How difficult can it be?"

Just as he was thinking this, the studio door was pushed open.

A young man in overalls, carrying a camera, poked his head in: "Excuse me—"

Zhang Chang'an's face immediately fell: "So you've already got work to do?!"

The young man was so frightened that he hesitated to ask any more questions.

Zhang Chang'an felt like he was in prison.

Honestly, to him, going to work felt almost the same as those few hours he spent squatting in London.

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Sitting behind the front desk, I could only play on my phone or computer for a short while before someone came in and asked me a few questions.

He wasn't exactly busy, but there really weren't many interesting things to do, which made him seriously consider hiring another employee.

After resolving some minor issues for the photography crew inside, he leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The photography studio is an integrated facility. The front desk is on the factory ceiling, with a dense array of lighting tracks and overhead wires extending into the interior, like a giant net.

Just then, those complex trajectories suddenly began to move on their own. Zhang Chang'an looked at this strange change, and his expression gradually became outrageous.

"No way—"

He knew perfectly well what this meant. Resonance, rift, crossing—yet another process.

The problem is, what did he do to trigger it?

"The time before last, I was targeted by a coachman assassin; the time before that, I was repairing mechanical equipment—"

He recalled for a moment: "This time—how did this shop-keeping thing come about? It's like I'm echoing another ancestor who also owned a shop."

He thought about his current state and inexplicably realized something.

"No—if it's the five ancestors we unlocked before, does that mean I'm currently in a state of imprisonment?"

He watched as the concrete characters gradually formed on the ceiling.

"Rift: [Conspiracy] 5678 (Sixty-second generation: Lan Gong)"

The goal of the restoration is to escape the Bastille!

The next second, the world stood still.

The studio lights froze into a dim yellow, the sound of the wind outside vanished without a trace, and even the crooked painting on the wall remained perfectly still.

Zhang Chang'an felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, and then, as if an invisible hand had violently pulled his body into an abyss.