The dating reality show host just wanted to give up, but the rich girl fell for him.

The real-world Nanluoguxiang has returned to tranquility, but the virtual online world is currently experiencing a frenzy comparable to a tsunami.

In just two hours.

The once arrogant and domineering anti-fraud influencer "Boss Wang," who boasted 15 million followers, has completely fallen from grace.

His personal homepage turned into a bleak gray.

Below the profile picture, a line of glaring official red text was prominently displayed.

"This account has been permanently banned for suspected acts of provoking trouble, spreading rumors and defamation, and damaging key cultural relics."

Along with the dozens of accounts under his name, they were also completely wiped out and banned across the entire internet.

The authorities not only banned the account, but also issued a stern notice with blue background and white text.

They dug up all of Mr. Wang's past misdeeds, including his malicious editing and extortion of businesses.

The onlookers were completely in an uproar.

But the core of this online frenzy has nothing to do with that Mr. Wang who is like a stray dog.

His downfall was merely an appetizer in this grand feast.

At this moment, six out of the top ten trending topics on major social media platforms are dominated by the same name.

#Tsinghua University professor lives in seclusion in a hutong (traditional alleyway) washing dishes#

#What kind of amazing background does Lin's Restaurant have?#

#A bowl of incredibly delicious hot soup that made everyone online hungry#

#Boiled Cabbage in Clear Broth: A Superior Spectacle at State Banquets#

Each entry is followed by a dark red "爆" (explosive) character.

Countless ordinary netizens who didn't originally pay attention to exposing online celebrities' frauds followed the trending topics all the way here.

They clicked on the live stream recording, which wasn't in high definition.

As a result, everyone was captivated by the steamy little courtyard in the picture and the young man in an apron with a lazy expression.

The screen was filled with a dense barrage of comments, almost overflowing the screen.

"This isn't just debunking fakes, this is practically the most hardcore food documentary of the year!"

"In the middle of the night, I was staring at that pot of clear soup, swallowing my saliva. Who would understand?"

"This boss is too calm! Millions of people are watching his live stream, and he hasn't even raised an eyelid."

"I'm dying of laughter. Boss Wang spent hundreds of thousands to buy traffic and create hype, but it all benefited this little shop."

Originally, it was a small alleyway restaurant that couldn't even be listed among the vast sea of ​​restaurants in Beijing.

Overnight, they were showered with immense wealth.

It has become the most mysterious and intriguing place to visit online.

This was a top-tier promotional campaign that was completely free across the entire internet and worth tens of millions of dollars.

Lin Mo, who was at the center of this storm, didn't say a single word.

The autumn wind picked up a bit in the evening.

The withered yellow leaves swirled under the dim streetlights and slowly drifted down onto the green tiles of Lin's Restaurant.

In front of the courtyard house, the two simple red lanterns had already been lit up early.

A crimson glow spread through the late autumn night, radiating a comforting warmth that puts people at ease.

Inside the door, the stove in the kitchen was burning brightly.

A rich broth was simmering in the pot, its aroma of meat mingling with the robust fragrance of spices such as star anise and cinnamon.

He kept squeezing out through the gaps in the not-so-sturdy wooden door.

The flavor wasn't overpowering, but rather lingering and profound, so enticing that even the stray cats passing by in the alley couldn't help but squat in the corner, staring intently at the courtyard gate.

The fireworks in the world touch the hearts of mortals.

Lin Mo moved a short, sturdy wooden stool from the backyard and placed it steadily under the main gate.

He wore a thin black trench coat, unbuttoned, giving off a casual vibe.

He stepped onto the wooden stool, holding a piece of clean, slightly damp cotton cloth in his hand.

With gentle yet focused movements, she wiped the wooden sign above her head.

When the wind blows, you can smell a faint scent of pine and a hint of wood chips.

A few withered leaves blown down by the autumn wind brushed past his shoulder, but he didn't flinch; he simply wiped them away slowly.

My wrist traced the grain of the wooden board, wiping away the noise and dust left behind by the daytime farce, little by little.

His expression was unusually calm.

It was as if the uproar on the internet caused by him had nothing to do with this small courtyard house.

After wiping the last word clean, Lin Mo nimbly jumped off the wooden stool.

He took two steps back, looked up, and examined the signboard, which was gleaming faintly under the lanterns, with satisfaction for a while.

"The internet environment is really good now."

He casually draped the rag over his shoulder and sighed softly.

His tone was relaxed and calm, carrying a hint of languor as if he had seen through the ways of the world.

"Even the GG fee is saved."

This statement was made as a matter of course, without the slightest hint of the ecstasy of becoming an overnight sensation.

It's as ordinary as going out to buy groceries and happen to catch a supermarket sale.

In a sheltered corner of the courtyard, there was an old bamboo rocking chair.

Wang Cunzhen was wearing an old quilted coat and was lying on a rocking chair, swaying back and forth.

The old man was holding a chipped purple clay teapot, happily sipping the piping hot Da Hong Pao tea.

The steam rose from his wrinkled yet energetic face.

Upon hearing Lin Mo's words, Wang Cunzhu let out a heavy snort.

"That idiot, he thinks he can get a taste of your soup?"

The old man curled his lip, his thick-rimmed glasses revealing undisguised disgust and contempt.

He glanced sideways at the signboard, following Lin Mo's gaze.

"Why don't you take a piss and look at yourself in the mirror to see what kind of person you are?"

Wang Cun smacked his lips, savoring the taste of tea, and slowly cursed.

"Does he really think that boiled cabbage in clear broth is some kind of roadside spicy hot pot, where any Tom, Dick, or Harry dares to point fingers and tell us what to do?"

At this point, the old man seemed to recall the leather shoe that had stepped on the gold brick during the day, and he angrily blew on his beard.

"It's one thing to be uncultured, but to come out and embarrass yourself like this, banning his account is too lenient. It's about time I went back too."

Lin Mo listened to the old man's rambling and just smiled faintly without replying.

He casually brushed the dust off his hands.

He turned around, lifted the curtain, and stepped back into the house.

For Lin Mo, no matter how much traffic there is outside, it's not as important as preparing tomorrow's ingredients in advance.

As night deepened, the autumn wind grew cooler.

The signboard that read "Lin's Restaurant" hung quietly under the eaves, illuminated by red lanterns.

The four characters on the signboard gleamed with a cold and sharp ink light.

At this time.

Far away on the other side of Beijing, in a top-tier private villa area with expensive location and strict security.

The studio is very large, with a simple and elegant decor that exudes a breathtaking sense of sophistication.

On the large huanghuali wood desk, there are scattered specially made gold-flecked Xuan paper, top-quality Huizhou ink, and natural mineral pigments.

Behind the desk sat an elderly man with gray hair, wearing a traditional Chinese jacket.

Zhou Yang is fifty-six years old this year.

He is an absolute titan in the Chinese calligraphy and painting world, a true national treasure-level master.

Anything bearing his personal seal, even just a single character, could be fiercely contested by countless top collectors, who would fight tooth and nail for it with blank checks.

Normally, by this time, Zhou Yang, who is health-conscious, would have already washed up and gone to bed.

But at the moment.

This is a national treasure-level master who is usually aloof and can remain calm even when Mount Tai collapses in front of him.

However, he was lying face down in front of the large computer screen, completely disregarding his image.

On that expensive professional-grade monitor, a live stream recording with poor image quality was paused.

It was during the daytime, when the unfortunate Mr. Wang fled in disarray, that the camera, amidst violent shaking, happened to glance at the Lin Family Restaurant sign for a brief second.

The image was frozen in time.

Zhou Yang's nose was almost touching the overheated screen.

He held a professional-grade high-powered magnifying glass in his hand, his eyes fixed on the wooden sign on the screen.

"Lin, family, small, hall".

The old man's eyes were covered with fine red blood vessels.

Clearly, he had been maintaining this stiff and awkward posture for a very long time.

The spacious studio was deathly silent.

All that could be heard was the old man's slightly heavy and increasingly uneven breathing.

"impossible……"

Zhou Yang muttered to himself, his voice dry and hoarse, like rough sandpaper rubbing against a tabletop.

His right hand, which was holding the magnifying glass, trembled slightly uncontrollably.

The magnifying glass lens slowly, bit by bit, moved along the strokes of the character "林" on the screen.

Even through blurry pixels.

Even if it's just through a cold electronic screen.

That sharp aura, piercing through the wood and aimed straight at his face, was still like a newly sharpened peerless longsword, stabbing directly into his eyes.

"The force of that initial stroke... the sharpness of that final stroke..."

Zhou Yang swallowed hard, and a fine layer of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

To the untrained eye, these are just four well-written calligraphy characters.

But in the eyes of Zhou Yang, a master who has been immersed in calligraphy for decades, what he saw was a bottomless and terrifying abyss.

He is not only looking at the form on the surface of the characters, but also at the soul contained within them.

The brushstrokes on the hard wooden board are sharp and forceful, yet perfectly restrained within their essence.

The transitions in this brushstroke, the seemingly casual yet precisely precise structural arrangement.

It is something that modern so-called calligraphy masters could not imitate.

The Slender Gold style of calligraphy.

This is the most unique and difficult-to-master type of script in the history of Chinese calligraphy.

It requires immense wrist strength, and even more so, an arrogant air of looking down on the world.

Modern writers of the Slender Gold style tend to be more impetuous and less principled, resulting in works that resemble the form but lack the spirit.

But the words on this sign are different.

"Lean yet strong and spirited, with firm bones..."

"The orchid leaf stroke at the beginning, and the crane leg pause at the end—such mastery could never be achieved without sixty years of arduous practice!"

Zhou Yang stared at the screen, his eyes widening until they almost bulged out.

Every stroke and line seems to carry the fierce power of a thousand troops, yet it is forcibly contained within the signboard of a small inn.

What terrifying skill that must have taken?

What an extraordinary state of mind that requires!

"Iron strokes and silver hooks, revealing the tip of the brush at the beginning..."

Zhou Yang's breathing became increasingly rapid, and his chest began to heave violently.

He suddenly stood up.

The priceless huanghuali armchair beneath him was roughly pushed aside, making a dull scraping sound on the wooden floor.

But he couldn't care less about any of that.

He stared intently at the screenshot of the sign, his eyes filled with unbelievable fervor and shock.

"This...this is the lost essence of the Slender Gold style of calligraphy!"

The old man's voice was completely distorted due to extreme excitement.

It echoed abruptly and sharply in the empty and quiet studio.

"Who is it?"

"Who on earth is it?!"

"Could it be that person from the dating reality show that was circulating online before? Impossible, it's most likely a lie."

He slammed his hands on the desk, the veins on the back of his hands bulging, his knuckles turning a horrifying pale white from the excessive force.

"I really can't imagine which old monster would write a message in such a run-down restaurant?!"

Zhou Yang's hands began to tremble violently and uncontrollably.

That was the most instinctive reaction of the body after seeing a priceless treasure and the pinnacle of art that one has pursued throughout one's life.

He pushed aside the painting on the table that he had just finished, which had already been reserved by a wealthy businessman for tens of millions.

The inkstone, filled with the finest ink, was overturned.

The jet-black ink splattered everywhere, mercilessly destroying the precious Xuan paper.

But he didn't even glance at the painting worth tens of millions.

It was as if it were just a worthless piece of waste paper.

"Go find out where Lin's Restaurant is. I'm going to see what's going on for myself tomorrow."