Chapter 64 Exclusive Release (End of Main Text)...
Viscount Arthur van der Berg did not stand by the window, but sat behind his desk, holding a thin file in his hand. Seeing Yuan Ning enter, he gestured for her to sit down.
He opened another drawer, and this time he took out not documents, but a dark brown leather document box.
“There are three things in here.” Arthur opened the box.
The first item was a heavy bunch of brass keys, seven in total, of various sizes, each with a different emblem engraved on its handle.
"All the master keys to Eldry Castle and its estates. From the tower clock room to the wine cellar, from the archives to the stables. Holding them means you have the right to enter every corner of this castle."
The second item was an ivory-colored signet ring.
“This is a seal ring left by my great-great-grandmother. When she was alive, all charitable foundation approvals, recipient relief lists, and even important family correspondence required this seal for confirmation. It represents the actual governance power of women within this family.”
The third item was a thick parchment document, tied with a dark blue ribbon.
Arthur didn't untie the ribbon; he simply pressed his finger lightly on the document cover.
"Full authorization letter for the Van der Berg family art and culture trust. Under the new terms, you will become the co-chair of this trust, with the same decision-making power as Theodora. The trust assets include: four galleries in London and New York, the Zurich Art Fund, and thirty-seven marketable treasures from the family's four-hundred-year collection, with a total estimated value of approximately £280 million."
He raised his eyes, his gaze sharp:
"Now, please make your choice. You can accept only the key, which means you are willing to assume the daily responsibilities of the lady of the castle; or you can accept both the key and the seal, which means you are willing to participate in the internal governance of the family; or you can accept both."
"This means that from this moment on, you are not only Elias's wife, but also one of the future co-leaders of the Van der Berg family."
Yuan Ning wanted it all, of course. She married Elias not just to become the mistress of the castle.
Her gaze went beyond the things in Arthur's hands, to something much farther away. Not wealth, not power, not security.
She saw a possibility.
This possibility manifested itself in the Chanel jackets in shop windows when she was twenty, in the all-night lights of the Parsons Library when she went bankrupt, and in the ceiling-high bookshelves in Elias's study when she first entered the Van der Berg mansion.
Twenty-year-old Yuan Ning needs to prove: "I can have it."
Yuan Ning now wants to prove: "I can build."
Individual success has its limits, but a well-functioning system can support countless "former Yuanning".
She will dedicate herself to promoting cultural heritage preservation projects similar to those she saw in Dunhuang, and supporting independent designers like Moira.
Marrying Elias was not about becoming a mere filler for the title "Mrs. Van der Berg," but about deeply collaborating with the resources, networks, and history that the title embodied to create a completely new legacy for both of them.
Marriage is the most efficient way to integrate resources and also the way she obtains her identity.
"So I choose to accept it all—the key, the seal, the trust, and all the weight they represent."
Mid-October is the best season in Jiangnan.
After everyone had settled their work affairs, Elias, Linus, Theodora, and Viscount Arthur, along with Yuan Ning, arrived in the South City by private plane.
The private plane landed at the provincial capital's airport. Qiao Yiya and Jiang Jianzhou sent two commercial vehicles to pick up the group and then headed south along the highway.
The closer you get to the southern part of the city, the more concrete the scenery outside the window becomes: the endless rice paddies turn into the old city area slated for demolition, then into newly built residential areas, and finally turn into an old street shaded by plane trees.
“We’re almost there.” Yuan Ning pointed ahead. “That red-roofed building is the neighborhood where my mother lives.”
Qiao Yiya and Jiang Jianzhou were waiting at the entrance of the residential area early.
It's not a high-end residential area, nor is it a villa area; it's just the entrance to an ordinary residential area.
Next to it are a fruit stand, a barbershop, and an Old Wang Soy Milk shop with a faded sign.
At 6:30 p.m., it is a busy time for people to pick up their children from school, return home from grocery shopping, and walk their dogs.
In mid-October, the air in the southern part of the city still carried the lingering fragrance of osmanthus blossoms. The sycamore leaves were beginning to turn yellow, but the sunlight remained warm.
Jiang Jianzhou explained, "This is the old house left by my father. Yi Ya said she wanted to live closer to her parents, and it would also be convenient for her to play mahjong here every day. We have been living here since we got married."
Houses in that era were built large, with a neat reception room on the outside and a truly spacious and comfortable living space inside.
After all, for a family like the Jiang family, there are many things they can't openly enjoy.
Mrs. Jiang, Qiao Yiya, comes and goes here every day to buy groceries, cook, and play mahjong. Everyone who sees her praises the Jiang family for their integrity.
“Mom, Mr. Jiang.” Yuan Ning walked over and hugged Qiao Yiya, her voice filled with the relief of returning home.
"Auntie, Mr. Jiang," Elias greeted in Chinese, his pronunciation much more standard than last time. He was carrying two exquisite paper boxes, either from a luxury store or containing pastries from a long-established brand in Nancheng.
Yuan Ning had specifically mentioned beforehand: "My mom loves to eat this."
Theodora brought a small jar of honey from her own estate, packaged in a simple glass tube with the label "Elderflower Honey" handwritten by Theodora.
Arthur, on the other hand, brought a bottle of 1978 port.
"Please come in, please come in," Jiang Jianzhou greeted them, his tone calm and considerate.
The house is on the third floor, with two doors that are connected, creating a space of 400 square meters, and it has both an inner and outer layout.
The outer reception area is a standard reception setup: hardwood sofas covered with pristine white openwork lace slipcovers, a glass coffee table, a calligraphy scroll bearing the inscription "Tranquility Leads to Far-Reaching Vision" hanging on the wall, and antique-style porcelain and certificates of honor displayed on a curio shelf. It is clean and tidy.
The family was led directly into the inner room; since the in-laws were meeting, they naturally had to be brought to their own home.
The inner room is a completely different world.
After the 400-square-meter space was opened up, a smooth living flow was created. Passing through that inconspicuous solid wood door, you first enter a bright and well-lit living room.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows is a meticulously maintained courtyard with bluestone slabs, bamboo shadows, a pond of koi, and a golden osmanthus tree in the corner in full bloom, its sweet fragrance wafting in.
The furniture is a modified Ming-style piece, with simple lines and warm, smooth wood. The bookshelves extend from the floor to the ceiling, crammed with Chinese and English books, scrolls, and family photo albums.
The most eye-catching feature is a whole wall of display shelves, with oddly shaped stones, ancient pottery shards, and plant specimens arranged in a staggered manner.
“These are all Jian Zhou’s ‘junk’,” Qiao Yiya said with a smile as she led everyone to their seats, her tone full of indulgence. “He picks them up wherever he goes, but he’s reluctant to donate them, so they’re all piled up at home.”
Qiao Yiya had a good education when she was young, and her English was also quite good.
With Yuan Ning and Elias acting as translators, the family had no trouble communicating.
Dinner was held in the inner dining room. A large round old elm table, without a tablecloth, its wood grain worn smooth and lustrous by the passage of time.
The dishes are simple and home-style, but they definitely show skill.
The housekeeper brought the dishes to the table.
A dish of Wensi Tofu Soup, with tofu as fine as hair, unfolds like clouds in clear chicken broth.
A plate of stir-fried, hand-peeled river shrimp, seasoned only with salt and a touch of Shaoxing wine, is pink and translucent.
The main dish is steamed shad with Shaoxing wine. It is a genuine Yangtze River shad, with rich oil under its scales. It is steamed with 20-year-old Shaoxing wine and thin slices of ham, and has a fresh and fragrant aroma.
Served with a plate of blanched bok choy and a pot of braised pork and bamboo shoots simmered for six hours.
Finally, there was a small basket of freshly opened crab roe soup dumplings, with skins as thin as paper and broth piping hot.
"They're all seasonal items, nothing special," Qiao Yiya said casually as she served the food. "The shad was delivered by a friend this morning, and the crab roe was only unpacked this afternoon. It's all about the freshness."
The nanny quietly entered and exited carrying a tray, allowing ample time between each dish for people to savor, converse, and digest.
Theodora looked at the small, pinkish-white, crystal-clear dish and exclaimed in admiration.
When the steamed shad with Shaoxing wine was served, the room was filled with its aroma. The whole fish lay on a long plate, its scales gleaming silver, and the broth golden.
“The beauty of shad lies in its scales,” Jiang Jianzhou reminded, “The oil under the scales is the most precious part, so please be sure to try it.”
Theodora carefully picked up a piece of fish with scales still attached using her chopsticks and put it in her mouth. The oil melted on her tongue, followed by layers of flavor: the aroma of Shaoxing wine, the saltiness of the ham, and the tenderness of the fish.
“Wynne, you should have told me sooner that China has such delicious food.”
There were two desserts: one was sweet and glutinous rice balls in osmanthus-flavored fermented rice wine, and the other was almond tofu, which was as white as jade and drizzled with a little rock sugar and osmanthus honey.
At the dinner table, the conversation naturally unfolded.
From the migratory habits of shad to the ecological protection of the Yangtze River, from the paper used for repairing ancient books to the preservation of parchment archives in Scottish castles, from the borrowed scenery technique in Suzhou gardens to the reconstruction plan of the Van der Berg family rose garden.
The family was surprised to find that they shared similar anxieties and obsessions about how to protect the fragile beauty of modern society.
Two hours later, the meal was finished.
Although there weren't many dishes, everyone felt just the right amount of fullness, rather than being stuffed.
The exquisiteness of the dishes, the rhythm of serving, and the logic of pairing all reflect a profound culinary cultivation: it is not about piling up quantity, but about presenting quality; it is not about showing off techniques, but about respecting the ingredients.
As Theodora put down her chopsticks, she exclaimed, "I'm reminded of something my grandmother used to say: True hospitality isn't about stuffing you, but about making you remember every bite."
Qiao Yiya knows how to organize a small but beautiful banquet; she is a woman who knows how to enjoy life.
The next morning, Nancheng awoke in a light mist.
The earliest sounds in the old street weren't car horns, but the hum of a soy milk maker, the crackling of a coal stove being lit, and the whooshing sound of Old Wang pulling open the roller shutter downstairs.
When Yuan Ning woke up, Elias was already standing on the balcony. He was wearing a simple white shirt and cotton-linen trousers, looking at the crowd queuing up at the breakfast stalls downstairs.
"What are you looking at?" She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind.
“Look at the lives of the people here.” Elias took her hand.
The uncle selling fried dough sticks scooped up three at a time, put them in a bag, and they looked delicious.
At 7:30, the group went downstairs.
Qiao Yiya originally wanted to prepare breakfast at home, but Yuan Ning insisted on taking foreigners to experience local life.
So the seven of them went into Old Wang's Soy Milk shop.
Old Wang, in his sixties, wearing a white apron stained with oil, smiled when he saw Qiao Yiya: "Mrs. Jiang, you've brought so many guests today?"
“My in-laws are coming from England,” Qiao Yiya replied in the southern dialect, “to try your cooking.”
Old Wang's eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together: "Then we'll have to show our best skills!"
He worked quickly: freshly ground soy milk was served piping hot, fried dough sticks were fried on the spot, and steamed xiaolongbao were steamed on the spot.
Linus had been studying fried dough sticks with great curiosity. He imitated the people around him, tearing the fried dough sticks into small pieces and soaking them in sweet soy milk. After a few seconds, when the fried dough sticks had absorbed the soy milk but were not completely soft, he put them in his mouth.
"A perfect balance of textures," he commented, "the perfect balance between crisp and soft."
As Jiang Jianzhou ate, he introduced the shop: "Old Wang's shop has been around since I was a child. Back then, a bowl of soy milk cost three cents and a fried dough stick cost five cents. The price has gone up now, but the taste hasn't changed."
Yuan Ning's ears twitched: "Mr. Jiang, when I was little, my mother also liked to bring me here for breakfast, and after we finished eating, she would take me to school."
Jiang Jianzhou looked at Qiao Yiya gently: "Perhaps we met back then."
He took her hand, regretting that he was too young back then.
After breakfast, Qiao Yiya suggested going to the morning market.
The atmosphere here is even more lively. Homegrown vegetables are still covered in dew, live chickens and ducks are slaughtered on the spot, fish are splashing in basins, and there are vendors selling bamboo woven utensils, repairing pots and pans, and even cotton fluffing on the spot.
Theodora was drawn to a stall selling handmade osmanthus candy. The stall owner was an elderly woman who made the candy herself and picked the osmanthus flowers from her own yard, wrapping them in small packets of oil paper.
"Want to try it?" Yuan Ning bought a pack and shared it with everyone.
The candy melts in your mouth, and the aroma of osmanthus explodes in your mouth, a gentle sweetness.
“I want to take some back with me,” Theodora said earnestly, “to put in tea, or to use when making pastries.”
She took out her wallet, but the old lady waved her hand and said in broken Mandarin, "It's for you, foreigners, have a taste."
In the end, of course, I paid, but the old lady insisted on stuffing two more bags into the bag.
At 10 a.m., the group went to the Confucian Temple in the south of the city.
This is not a tourist attraction, but a genuine cultural venue for locals. The elderly play chess and sing operas here, and children take calligraphy classes.
Jiang Jianzhou is a regular here. As soon as he entered, several elderly people who were making rubbings of the inscription greeted him: "Teacher Jiang is here!"
"Let's bring our in-laws to see us," Jiang Jianzhou introduced.
The elderly people's eyes lit up.
"Your family has found a foreign son-in-law; your daughter is truly accomplished."
The old man held Yuan Ning's hand and looked her up and down, praising her beauty.
Theodora, however, was drawn to the free calligraphy and painting class in the backyard of the Confucian Temple. A dozen children were learning to paint orchids with their teacher, and she stood outside the window watching for a long time, seemingly quite moved.
Lunch was simple, at a noodle shop near the Confucius Temple.
The signature dish is eel noodles, where freshly cut eel is stir-fried and then poured over the noodles, sprinkled with plenty of pepper and minced garlic.
Arthur couldn't roll noodles with chopsticks, and Linus mocked him, but in the end he still got him a fork.
The afternoon was quiet. The group returned home, and Jiang Jianzhou enjoyed tea with Viscount Arthur and Elias in the tea room, while Qiao Yiya made dumplings with Theodora and Linus.
The Jiang family's tea room was small, but extremely elegant. There was an old boat wood tea table, three Ming-style official hat chairs, and a traditional Chinese ink painting of orchids hanging on the wall, inscribed with "Fragrance in a Secluded Valley".
Jiang Jianzhou took out three different cups:
Arthur was given a Jian ware teacup from the Song Dynasty, with a dark glaze that revealed fine hare's fur patterns under the light.
“This is a tea cup from the Southern Song Dynasty,” Jiang Jianzhou said, pouring in a golden Phoenix Dancong tea. “In ancient times, people used these cups to compete in tea-tasting, observing how long the tea foam lasted. Of course, we don’t compete like that anymore, but when you drink tea with an antique vessel, you can taste the depth of time.”
Arthur accepted the cup with both hands, first observing its color, then smelling its aroma, and finally taking a small sip. The tea rippled gently in the ancient cup.
“I’ve seen similar cups in the British Museum,” he said in a low voice. “The experience of seeing them through glass and holding them in your hands is definitely different.”
Elias was given a modern bone china cup, pure white, thin as an eggshell, and translucent.
“This is Dehua white porcelain,” Jiang Jianzhou said, switching to another brew of tea—Anxi Tieguanyin. “The tea is light in color, so you can see it clearly in a white cup.”
Elias took the cup and found it surprisingly light. The tea was a clear green, resembling a flowing piece of jade against the white porcelain.
He himself used a simple purple clay teapot with the words "Let's have some tea" engraved on its body.
The three of them quietly drank three cups of tea.
From the orchid fragrance of Tieguanyin to the mellow richness of Pu'er, and then to the refreshing sweetness of Baihao Yinzhen.
After several rounds of tea, the conversation gradually picked up.
“The Viscount has a deep understanding of Eastern culture,” Jiang Jianzhou continued.
“My mother lived in the Far East for a few years when she was young,” Arthur put down his Jianzhan teacup. “She brought back two things: a tea set and a concept. She said that Westerners pursue conquest, while Easterners know how to coexist. I didn’t understand then, but now… I seem to understand a little.”
He looked at the bamboo shadows in the courtyard outside the window: "Just like this bamboo, it doesn't try to grow into an oak tree, but when the wind and rain come, it bends but doesn't break."
Jiang Jianzhou nodded: "The Tao Te Ching says, 'The highest good is like water.' Water does not contend, yet all things cannot live without it."
The kitchen was a completely different scene.
The two mothers put on floral aprons, and Linus was assigned the task of peeling garlic.
He sat on a small stool, peeling garlic with great care in front of him, a small basket in front of him.
"The key to delicious dumplings is the dough." Qiao Yiya demonstrated how to knead the dough, as the flour and water gradually formed a dough in the bowl. "It can't be too stiff, and it can't be too soft."
Theodora is skilled at baking Western-style pastries and is also very interested in Chinese noodles.
Linus peeled the garlic, and Qiao Yiya then taught him how to make the dipping sauce: minced garlic, vinegar, soy sauce, a little sesame oil, and chili oil.
"Want to try?" She handed over a small spoon.
Linus took a bite, gasped from the spiciness, but his eyes lit up: "This flavor... is full of life."
The filling is traditional pork and cabbage, but Qiao Yiya added a secret ingredient: minced fresh shrimp and chopped water chestnuts.
"Shrimp adds freshness, and water chestnuts add crunchiness," she explained while preparing the filling. "Dumplings can't be all meat; they need to have layers."
Yuan Ning wanted to join them, but Qiao Yiya stopped her: "You don't know how to do this, go play somewhere else."
We've started making dumplings.
Qiao Yiya's technique was fluid and graceful: she took a wrapper, put in the filling, folded it in half, pinched it, and a dumpling shaped like a gold ingot stood upright on the cutting board.
Theodora was amazed and couldn't help but move closer: "Could you slow down a bit? I want to see that pinching motion clearly."
Linus also wanted to try, and Qiao Yiya gave him a skin.
Linus clumsily wrapped a strangely shaped dumpling and solemnly placed it in front of him: "This is my first one. I'm going to remember what it looks like."
The group worked together happily for a while, and when the dumplings were served, steam rose from them.
On an exquisite bone china plate, dumplings were piled up in a small mountain. Next to them were several small dishes: minced garlic and vinegar, chili oil, and pickled garlic that Qiao Yiya had made herself.
The three people in the tea room also came out.
Qiao Yiya said with a smile, "Let's see who can tell which dumpling was made by whom."
Jiang Jianzhou hugged her from behind: "The prettiest one is definitely the one you made."
Qiao Yiya ate a plump one: "This must be Yuan Ning's. She only made one in total. It has a big filling and a thin skin. My daughter is so skillful."
Theodora carefully picked one up with her chopsticks. The dumpling was fairly well-shaped, but the pleats were a bit stiff.
She took a small bite, her eyes lighting up: "I made this! I recognize this pleat."
Until night fell.
The two families moved to the small courtyard.
Theodora, patting her slightly full stomach, murmured, "I never imagined that food could connect people like this."
The fragrance of osmanthus mingled with the aroma of tea, drifting in the autumn night breeze.
Qiao Yiya said, "For the rest of my life, all I want is for my family to be together, having a lively time, even if it's just eating a bowl of noodles."
Upon hearing this, Yuan Ning tightly grasped her mother's hand.
The next morning at six o'clock, Nancheng awoke to the sounds of vendors hawking their wares in the old street.
Yuan Ning and Elias quietly left the house, as if they were going to complete a secret mission.
The morning breeze in late October was cool, and the sycamore leaves rustled overhead. Steam from Old Wang's soy milk seeped out from under the door, mingling with the aroma of freshly fried dough sticks.
"What would you like to eat?" Yuan Ning asked.
Elias looked at the crowd in line: elderly people carrying shopping baskets, young people rushing to work, and parents taking their children to school.
"Like yesterday."
So they joined the end of the line. The older woman in front of them turned around, sized up the blond, blue-eyed Elias, and asked curiously, "Young man, what country are you from?"
“British,” Elias replied in Chinese.
"Wow, your Chinese is quite good!" the woman smiled. "Are you here for tourism?"
"Let's get married."
The woman's eyes widened, then she grinned from ear to ear: "Great news! Congratulations!"
They ordered two servings of fried dough sticks and an extra-large serving of soy milk today, and finished their breakfast sitting at an outdoor folding table.
At 7:30, before the Civil Affairs Bureau even opened, several couples were already lined up at the entrance.
Yuan Ning then realized that they were dressed too casually; she was wearing a simple off-white dress, and Elias was wearing a white shirt.
The other newlyweds were all dressed in carefully chosen clothes: some girls wore cocktail dresses, while others wore cheongsams; some boys wore suits, while others wore Chinese-style stand-up collar shirts.
At 8:00 sharp, the iron gate was opened.
The service hall was almost rudimentary: white walls, green wainscoting, and rows of stainless steel benches. The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with the ink of freshly printed documents.
A framed copy of the full text of the Marriage Law hangs on the wall. A small blackboard displays "Today's Processing Numbers".
The procedures for cross-border marriages are relatively complicated and require a special window.
The staff members were a couple in their fifties, wearing arm sleeves.
When she took the documents, she took a few extra glances at Elias's passport: "British? There aren't many international marriages here, only about a dozen a year."
The staff members looked serious as they carefully checked the documents, passports, notarized translations, and single status certificates one by one.
"Have foreigners thought this through? Once you're married, you're family."
Elias nodded vigorously: "I've thought it through."
The staff pushed two forms over: "Fill them out. Write neatly and don't make any corrections."
The table is very simple: name, gender, date of birth, nationality.
After filling out the form, the staff took it, checked it carefully, and then stamped it.
“Go take photos over there,” she pointed to the small room next door, “a red background for a couple photo, showing ears and eyebrows, and no exaggerated smiles.”
The photography studio was even smaller, with only a red curtain, two chairs, and an old-fashioned camera.
"Sit closer...yes, shoulders together. Tilt your head to the side...madam, smile, don't be too serious."
The moment the flash went off, Yuan Ning broke into a sweet smile.
The photos were printed out quickly.
Back at the window, the staff affixed the photo to the marriage certificate and then stamped it with the final seal.
With a "thump".
Two small red booklets were pushed out of the window.
The cover features the national emblem in gold foil, with three large characters below: Marriage Certificate.
"Congratulations," the staff member finally smiled for the first time that day. "May you love each other and live a good life together from now on."
It was not yet nine o'clock when I left the Civil Affairs Bureau.
The sun was shining brightly. They embraced and chose to walk home to eat lunch prepared by their mothers.
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