After ninety-nine online romances, I finally met my ex in person when school started.

Exhibition Hall Zero. The constant-temperature air conditioner emitted a low, steady operating sound.

Director Sun had been navigating Beijing's cultural circles for decades, yet he was completely oblivious. He glanced at Fu Xinghe, then took in Zhu Xun Chuan's impeccably tailored suit and the multi-million dollar Patek Philippe on his wrist.

He immediately realized that he and these white-haired experts were completely superfluous in being there.

"Miss Fu, Mr. Zhu, please take your time to examine the artifacts here." Director Sun chuckled and naturally took two steps back. "There are still some tricky matters in the bronze restoration room that require my approval. I'll go take care of them first. This exhibition hall has the highest level of security; I've even had the surveillance cameras switched to an internal dedicated line, so no one will disturb you. If you need anything, please press the communication bell on the wall at any time."

After finishing his speech, Director Sun led several experts out of the room quickly, closing the heavy mahogany-clad copper door behind them.

A soft "click" sounded.

The vast Exhibition Hall Zero fell completely silent.

There were no bustling tourists outside, no noisy tour guides with loudspeakers. Only a few dim, antique spotlights shone precisely on the bulletproof glass enclosure in the center of the venue. Inside the enclosure, a Tang Dynasty painting of court ladies exuded a profound aura that transcended a thousand years.

Fu Xinghe did not rush to press his face against the glass case to study the painting.

She pulled a small Suzhou embroidery folding fan from the sleeve of her moon-white brocade cheongsam. With a "whoosh," she unfolded it, flipped her wrist, and gently shook it.

A gentle breeze stirred up by the sandalwood fan ribs, carrying with it her unique, sophisticated fragrance and mature woman's scent, which went straight into Zhu Xun Chuan's nose.

"Director Sun is a man who has mastered both scholarship and social skills." Fu Xinghe looked at the painting, his tone cool and indifferent, revealing an air of self-righteous arrogance. "My grandfather saw a high-resolution scan of this painting when it was sent to the National Museum last week."

She paused, and the frequency of her folding fan swaying slowed down.

"The old man, along with several of his prized students, locked himself in his study for three days to study it. They could only tell that the painting was done by a top-notch court painter, with excellent brushstrokes and ink. But they had no clue about the hidden meaning in the painting. Director Sun brought this out today, ostensibly to have me appraise it, but in reality, he was also trying to probe the Fu family's background."

Fu Xinghe turned around, her beautiful eyes sparkling as she stared directly into Zhu Xunchuan's eyes.

"Zhu, classmate." She slightly raised her chin, her expression carrying the scrutiny of a superior, and a hint of a woman's subtle probing. "What do you think the person in this painting is waiting for?"

Zhu Xun Chuan followed her gaze to the painting.

In the painting, several plump Tang Dynasty women sit around a white marble table. On the table is an unfinished chessboard. The woman at the head of the group is dressed in the most gorgeous attire. She holds a black chess piece between her fingers and looks wistfully out of the painting, as if she is waiting for someone who will never return.

The painting has a lot of blank space, but there are no inscriptions or seals beside it. It is so clean that it is almost eerie.

Zhu Xun Chuan walked forward unhurriedly, his hands in his trouser pockets.

[The Eye of Top-Tier Chinese Classical Studies Appreciation] operates automatically.

Without him needing to analyze it, countless golden lines and characters jumped and recombined directly on his retina, and the vast database of ancient books instantly provided the only correct answer.

He didn't even bother to look down and examine the material of the scroll.

His gaze pierced through the bulletproof glass, brazenly landing on Fu Xinghe's stunningly beautiful face. His eyes swept from her cool, deep eyes, across her high, straight nose, and finally settled on her full, alluring red lips.

"She's not waiting." Zhu Xun Chuan's voice was deep, carrying an air of absolute certainty.

Fu Xinghe paused in his fanning motion.

"Not waiting?" She frowned slightly. "Then what are you doing?"

Zhu Xunchuan took a step forward.

The distance closed. Their toes almost touched.

"She is hiding."

Zhu Xun Chuan raised his right hand, his long, strong fingers precisely touching the unfinished chessboard in the painting through the cold bulletproof glass.

"The reason why Director Sun and those old professors couldn't solve it was because they got stuck on the details. They treated it as a simple painting. They were preoccupied with finding flaws in the painting technique, the dynasty of the pigments, and the style of the figures' clothing. They were trying to find the answer in the composition."

"But this is a trap."

Zhu Xunchuan's fingers slowly slid along the edge of the chessboard.

"The alternating black and white pieces appear to be a chaotic and disorganized battle between two players. In reality, it's a variation of an extremely obscure opening from the early Tang Dynasty. Don't be fooled by the white pieces; they're all illusions. Just look at the black pieces."

He tapped his fingertips in the air.

"Starting from the center point in the upper right corner of the board, connect the seven black stones on the edge in a clockwise direction."

Zhu Xun Chuan withdrew his hand, his gaze fixed intently on Fu Xing He's eyes.

"Place the coordinates of these seven black pieces on the chessboard into the early Tang Dynasty phonetic table and read them aloud."

Fu Xinghe was startled.

She is a specially appointed professor in the Chinese Department of Peking University. She grew up immersed in rare and ancient books with her grandfather. The phonological tables of the early Tang Dynasty and ancient cryptography are like instincts etched into her bones, more familiar to her than eating and drinking.

She immediately turned her head, her gaze quickly sweeping over the chessboard inside the glass case.

The top right corner, position three, corresponds to the level tone. The bottom right corner, position three, corresponds to the entering tone.

She frantically deduced in her mind, the coordinates of the chessboard and the phonetic characters constantly colliding, disassembling, and recombining.

Just three seconds.

Fu Xinghe's breathing became completely erratic. His chest heaved violently, causing his moon-white brocade cheongsam to ripple with alluring waves.

"Snapped!"

She slammed the Suzhou embroidery folding fan shut. Her fingers gripped the fan ribs so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Those icy, unchanging eyes, forever aloof and unyielding, were now churning with a stormy sea. Shock, disbelief, and a trembling feeling as if their very soul had been instantly seen through and pierced.

"My longing for you is so deep...do you even know?"

She parted her red lips slightly and murmured those eight words.

The sound echoed in the quiet exhibition hall.

A deathly silence.

A thunderbolt violently cleaved through the millennia-old mist that had shrouded this painting.

This is not about the sorrow of a fallen nation, nor is it some palace secret. It is simply a love poem, full of flirtatious charm and tender sentiment, sent by a woman alone in her boudoir more than a thousand years ago to her lover in the distance through the brush of a painter.

Fu Xinghe's gaze towards Zhu Xunchuan completely changed.

The political upstarts and tycoon sons who used to pursue her either showered her with money or tried to appear cultured by reciting a couple of overused, clichéd poems. They couldn't even handle a casual test from her.

The boy in front of her, who was a few years younger than her, simply glanced at her and effortlessly cracked the ancient secret that even her grandfather and national experts couldn't solve.