I was a rookie reporter in the 00s

Zhang Wanqing sat at the desk in the newspaper office, the cold light of the computer screen shining on her face. Her brows were furrowed, and her eyes shuttled through the information, looking for clues hidden behind the words.

The newspaper office was filled with the clacking of keyboards and the hushed whispers of discussion, but Zhang Wanqing seemed to be in another world. Her attention was completely focused on the information on the screen: reports and archives about ancient families. Her eyes moved rapidly between the lines of text, trying to catch a clue to the secrets of the antique shop.

Her finger flicked lightly across the mouse, and the images and documents on the screen constantly shifted. Suddenly, her gaze fixed on a black-and-white photograph: a family portrait set against the backdrop of an old manor. The manor's architectural style bore a striking resemblance to some of the decorations in the antique shop. She sensed she was on the verge of a major discovery.

She knew that this was not just a coincidence, it was a clue, a clue to uncover the secret of the antique shop, and she knew she had to seize this clue.

She zoomed in on the photos, carefully examining each face, especially the eyes and expressions of the family members. She noticed a middle-aged man in formal attire. His face was serious, and his eyes held an indescribable determination. Zhang Wanqing's intuition told her that this man was somehow connected to the secrets of the antique shop.

She quickly opened a new document and began to record her observations and thoughts. Her fingers pounded across the keyboard, her mind racing. She wrote down the family's name—"Mojia"—and their possible connection to the antique shop.

Zhang Wanqing knew she needed more information to verify her hypothesis. She began searching for information about the Mohist school, from news reports to historical archives, from social media to library microfilm. As her search expanded, so did her resolve.

As time went by, Zhang Wanqing's desk became filled with printed materials and notes. She scanned them, trying to find subtle connections. She discovered that the history of the Mohist school stretched back centuries, and that its members had once held significant influence in politics, economics, and culture.

Her gaze lingered on an old newspaper clipping about an ancestor of the Mohist school, a renowned collector whose collection included many precious antiques and artworks. Zhang Wanqing's heartbeat quickened again, realizing that these items might be directly connected to some of the items in the antique shop.

At this moment, she discovered a copy of a will belonging to an ancestor of the "Mohist School". In the will, he mentioned some unspecified "family inheritance" and emphasized that these inheritances must be properly kept by direct descendants. Zhang Wanqing's intuition told her that these so-called "family inheritances" might be the secrets of the antique shop.

She began organizing her findings for an in-depth report, her fingers flying across the keyboard, her eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and the material.

As night fell, colleagues at the newspaper left one after another, but Zhang Wanqing still sat at her desk, her figure looking particularly lonely under the light. Her heart was filled with desire for the secrets of the antique shop and the pursuit of the truth.

She continued to work until late at night. When she finally finished the first draft of the report, she stood up and stretched her stiff body. Her eyes fell on the copy of the will again. She knew she needed to return to the antique shop to uncover the secrets hidden in the dust of history.

At this moment, she received a call from Feng Xi. "Wan Qing, we found something new, you need to come back immediately." Feng Xi's voice was filled with urgency.

She stood up, her eyes falling on the information again. She picked up her bag and put the information into it. Zhang Wanqing packed up her belongings, turned off her computer, and prepared to leave the newspaper office. At this time, Fu Siyuan came over, and before she could ask, he left with Zhang Wanqing.

"Wanqing, I seem to have guessed something about this family we're reporting on, about...some things I might not be quite clear about yet...No matter what you want to do, I'll accompany you. Since you're going out, how about this, we talk on the way, and you can tell me slowly."

Fu Siyuan's intelligence lies not only in his strong business ability, but also in his ability to observe people. He can even perceive Zhang Wanqing's thoughts through her eyes and movements.

They left the newspaper office and once again set foot on the familiar street leading to the antique shop. The night deepened, and the light of the street lamps grew dimmer. What was different this time was that Zhang Wanqing was no longer walking alone. Fu Siyuan was by her side. Their footsteps echoed on the street, and her mood was as complex and profound as the night. But this time, Fu Siyuan's company gave her a sense of security.

They arrived at the antique shop, Fengxi and Xiaoyu were already waiting for her. They were a little confused when they saw Fu Siyuan.

"Who is this?" Feng Xi asked.

"He is my colleague, oh no, also a comrade-in-arms. He and I once reported together on the scandal of wastewater discharge from a chemical plant. Fengxi, Xiaoyu, don't treat him as an outsider. On the way here just now, I told him everything that happened before. I thought he would be shocked, but unexpectedly, he had already guessed some things. So, from now on, Fu Siyuan is our ally." Zhang Wanqing said, smiling knowingly at Fu Siyuan.

Zhang Wanqing OS: "If I had known earlier, I would have told Fu Siyuan everything from the beginning. In this way, if, I mean if, he had been with me from the beginning, I might not be so lonely. Zhang Wanqing, why are you so unguarded against Fu Siyuan? I don't know, I just feel that he has a kind of magic that attracts me. I can't be... No, stop! Zhang Wanqing, you are going to travel back to the Tang Dynasty. You can't, you absolutely can't have any improper thoughts about anyone here. Do you hear me?"