I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 242 Little Cardamom and "Meeting the Parents"

The restaurant is small, with seven or eight tables, and is decorated in a simple and elegant style.

Several neoclassical oil paintings hung on the wall, and the lighting was soft.

The waiter clearly recognized Isabella and led her to a table at the very back by the window.

"Associate Professor, your old position has been reserved for you."

The four people sat down.

Isabella was very familiar with ordering food and didn't even look at the menu.

"The usual three dishes, plus today's special soup."

Richard looked around the shop.

The people who come here to eat all seem to be well-mannered.

Two elderly men were sitting at the next table, discussing something in hushed tones, with a manuscript spread out on the table.

At the next table, a middle-aged man wearing glasses was eating alone, with a book open in front of him.

This place is less of a restaurant and more of a gathering place for scholars to discuss academic matters.

The food was served quickly and tasted good.

Isabella was clearly a regular, and she ate with great ease, her usually cold expression softening somewhat.

"Richard." She took a few bites and then put down her knife and fork.

"The owner of this shop is an old acquaintance of my mentor, who used to bring me here often."

Later, my advisor passed away, so I came alone.

Richard listened quietly.

Sofia and Clara also fell silent.

Isabella looked at Richard.

"Your empirical text today cuts from 'curtain decay' to 'return' trigger."

It's highly innovative; looking at it reminds me of something my mentor always said.

"What did you say?"

He said that each generation of scholars should see a little more than the previous generation.

Isabella shook her head.

"This has nothing to do with who is smart or not; you live in an era where the veil is thinning."

What you're seeing is something only people of your generation can see.

Richard recalled the argument that had prompted him to put pen to paper.

The ancients wrote "future generations need not worry" because the curtain was still thick in their time.

But those who came before us did not live to see the day when the curtain thins.

What his aunt said was the same thing he was thinking.

"Auntie."

"Um?"

"thank you."

Isabella glanced at him.

The cold expression on his face finally softened, revealing a faint smile.

"Don't thank me, eat your food properly, it's getting cold."

Sofia finally couldn't hold back anymore.

"Professor, you've been talking a lot today."

"...Is it a lot?" Isabella asked, somewhat embarrassed.

"That's because something good is happening today," Clara suddenly interjected.

"What good news?" Sophia asked.

Clara glanced at Richard.

Isabella stopped holding the fork.

She neither admitted nor denied it, and lowered her head to take a sip of soup.

………………

Back at Ashford mansion, Richard received an unexpected letter.

It's a letter from Grey.

The letter was brief, inviting Richard to a small gathering at her house in the capital over the weekend.

On Saturday morning, Richard went to Grey's house according to the address on the letter.

A three-story Western-style building with a small garden in front, an wrought iron gate, and a car parked inside.

He stood at the door and looked around, feeling that the house was not as grand as Ashford's.

Ashford is, after all, an old family with hundreds of years of history; its porch pillars, coat of arms, and door decorations all exude the heritage of the old aristocracy.

Grey's family's residence in the capital looks newer, but it lacks a certain grandeur.

A maid opened the door.

"Mr. Williams?"

"it's me."

"Miss is waiting for you in the living room."

The living room is tastefully decorated, with modern furniture and appliances.

A very faint scent of spices lingered in the air.

Richard used his nose to distinguish them.

The cardamom, along with a touch of cinnamon and cloves, are all imported spices from the East.

The snacks Grey used to bring Richard often had a hint of cardamom.

At that time, he guessed that her family was in the spice business.

Now that I can smell this whole room, it's confirmed.

Grey came out from the other end of the living room.

She wasn't wearing her school uniform today; she had changed into a light-colored dress.

Richard could tell at a glance that Grey was acting strange today.

She walked over with dragging steps.

"...You've arrived."

"Hmm, your place is hard to find."

"It is a bit out of the way." The girl shifted her gaze elsewhere.

"My mom said the west side of the city is quiet and suitable for studying."

The two stood in the living room, speechless for a moment.

This isn't usually the case at school.

When Grey was in Greenwood, she always spoke directly to Richard, and she wasn't intimidated at all back then.

But today, at home, the girl seemed like a completely different person.

She stood there, twisting her skirt with her fingers, speechless for a long time.

"Um..." Grey finally spoke again, "Please have a seat, I'll go pour some tea."

"No need to trouble yourself, the maid just now..."

"I'll pour it myself."

Grey turned and fled to the break room as if she were running away.

Richard sat down on the sofa and shook his head as he watched the girl's flustered figure disappear into the distance.

The usually calm and collected Old Money heiress was unusually flustered this time.

Before Grey could pour the tea back, footsteps could be heard from the other end of the living room.

A middle-aged lady walked in.

Richard immediately stood up.

The lady was dressed in a well-fitting house dress, her hair was neatly combed, and she exuded an air of elegance.

Richard guessed her identity.

"You must be Richard?" The lady smiled at him.

"Madam, I am Richard Williams."

"Please sit down, don't be shy."

The lady sat down opposite him.

"Grey often mentioned you to me when she was in Bristol."

"...Really?" Richard was a little surprised.

"Hmm." The lady's eyes swept over Richard.

"They said you're good at Latin, that you came in second in the Cicero Cup, and that your article was featured on the front page of the Northern Literary Review."

"You flatter me, Madam."

Grey returned with the tea at that moment.

When she saw her mother sitting there, she stopped in her tracks.

"Mom, what's wrong...?"

"I've come to see your little guest."

The lady took the tea from Grey and handed a cup to Richard.

"Grey, go to the kitchen and check how the pastries are baking."

"But……"

"Go."

Grey glanced at Richard, then at her mother, and finally went to the kitchen.

Only Richard and Grey's mother remained in the living room.

Richard felt inexplicably apprehensive; it was like meeting the parents.

Sure enough, as soon as Grey left, the lady started talking.

"Richard, I heard your mother is a young lady from the Ashford family?"

coming.

"Yes, my mother, Margaret, was indeed from the Ashford family."

"Ashford..." The lady paused in her tea-serving gesture.

"Is her father Lord Gerald, or some other distant relative?"

"Lord Gerald was my maternal grandfather."

Richard figured it out.

Ashford's influence in the ladies' hearts was greater than the Cicero Cup second place and the headline of the Northern Literary Review combined.

Although the Ashford family is "a declining lampstand," even a starved camel is bigger than a horse.

A family with profound expertise still holds a prestigious reputation in the upper echelons of the capital.

"So, the one who teaches at the Imperial University of Beijing, is she also your aunt?"

The lady's tone became even warmer.

"Yes, she is an associate professor in the Department of Classics."

Richard could tell that the other party was verifying his value point by point.

With each item checked—family background, kinship, personal achievements, and academic prospects—the lady's face grew more satisfied.

"Richard, are you planning to pursue an academic career?"

"Yes, I want to apply to the Classics Department of Imperial University."

"Doing academic research is good, stable, and respectable," the noblewoman said, taking a sip of tea before changing the subject.

"My family is in business."

"It must be the spice business," Richard said, glancing at the other man. "The moment I entered the house, I could smell cardamom."

The lady smiled.

"You have a keen sense of smell; the journey to obtain spices from the Eastern Continent is long and arduous."

The seas are rough, and there are many bandits and pirates. Successfully transporting goods back safely depends on more than just the ship and the people.

Richard understood the underlying meaning in the noblewoman's words.

"What you mean, Madam, is..."

"Our family business has grown to its current size thanks to generations of hard work and connections that ordinary people couldn't help with."

The noblewoman looked at him.

Richard understood.

Combined with some of Grey's previous hints, it seems that her family does indeed have a foothold in the mystical world.

"It seems you understood." The lady smiled.

"...I think I understand." Richard nodded.

Grey returned from the kitchen at that moment, carrying a tin box.

When she saw her mother still sitting there, her face flushed red.

"Mom! Why are you still talking to Richard...?"

"We're done talking." The lady stood up and nodded to Richard.

"Richard, I had a very pleasant chat today. You're welcome to come again anytime."

She emphasized "come often" before leaving gracefully.

Only Richard and Grey remained in the living room.

Grey stood there, head down, not daring to look at him.

"My mom...didn't give you any trouble, did she?"

"No, Madam is very kind."

"She probably asked a bunch of random questions, don't take it to heart."

"……fine."

Grey opened the tin box.

Inside was a row of freshly baked scones, still steaming hot.

The aroma of butter and fine sugar wafts out, with a hint of cardamom.

"Last time it was said to be the last time in Briston, now it's the first time in the capital."

"Would you like to try some?"

Richard picked one up and took a bite.

The aroma of butter melts in your mouth, with a hint of cardamom hidden beneath the sweetness—just right.

"……tasty."

Grey's face finally regained its usual smile.

"That's good. It seems I've improved since I was in Briston."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I changed the recipe, and the butter was specially transported from the countryside."

The two chatted for a while over scones.

We talked about our old classmates at Greenwood, about girls' schools in Beijing, and about our future plans.

As they chatted, Grey gradually relaxed.

When it was time to say goodbye, she slipped the things into Richard's hands again.

"Take it back with you. If you can't finish it all by yourself, share it with your aunt and the others."

"Thanks."

Their relationship returned to its usual rhythm.

As she reached the door, Grey suddenly stopped.

"Richard, you must do well on the exam. If you pass, we can still see each other often in the capital."

As she spoke, the girl shifted her gaze elsewhere.

"Yes, I will pass the exam."

"Well... see you next time."

See you next time.