760: Chapter 755 Everyone says I'm obsessed

"Also, boss, about that 'Snake Tooth Archipelago' you bought—global mining giants are practically blowing up my phone. The highest bidder wants to use one trillion USD to buy 51% of our mining rights."

Shen Yan listened to the report, only nodding occasionally.

These multi-billion and multi-trillion dollar deals were, in his eyes, merely a flow of numbers.

He briefly handled a few matters that required his personal approval and then stood up.

"Guang Ke, keep a close eye on the 'pangu' matter with Wu Ya."

"I'm going out for a bit."

Chen Guangke was stunned. "Ah? Boss, you've only been back for a few days."

"Where are you going?"

Shen Yan picked up his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

"Fragrance Prefecture."

Just as he sat in the private car heading to the airport, the system's voice rang clearly in his mind.

[Daily Intelligence Refreshed]

[Intelligence Content: Deep within the 'Rosemary Dell' spice plantation in the southern suburbs of Fragrance Prefecture, in a small patch of neglected soil, grows a mutated 'Ambergris Vine'. The resin secreted by this vine, when prepared using ancient methods, can produce a rare spice called 'floating dawn'. Its aromatic molecular structure has a strong neuro-calming and hippocampal activation effect, making it a coveted raw material for top-tier luxury perfumes and high-end neurological drugs. In three days, the plantation owner will mortgage the entire plantation to the Bank for three million due to a capital break.]

Fragrance Prefecture.

A southern coastal city that has flourished for hundreds of years due to the spice trade.

Shen Yan didn't alert anyone. He traveled alone in first class on a civil flight and arrived in this city filled with moist vapor and exotic fragrances.

He didn't head straight for his destination, 'Rosemary Dell.'

He wanted to listen to the sounds of this city first.

The oldest street in Fragrance Prefecture is called 'Baixiang Lane.'

The bluestone pavement had been polished to a shine by time, and the street was lined with dense spice shops and old teahouses.

The air was a mixture of hundreds of scents like sandalwood, agarwood, cardamom, and cloves, forming a unique and soul-soothing atmosphere.

Shen Yan walked into an old teahouse named 'Listening to the Wind.'

There weren't many tourists in the teahouse; it was mostly elderly local tea drinkers, fiddling with prayer beads and chatting.

"Uncle Quan, a pot of 'Falling Goose Aloeswood'."

Shen Yan found a seat by the window and spoke to an old master behind the counter who was weighing tea leaves with a small copper scale.

The old master looked up and glanced at Shen Yan.

The young man before him was dressed in simple casual clothes and had a clean aura, unlike those loud out-of-town bosses decked out in designer brands.

"Young man, you know your stuff."

Uncle Quan smiled and soon brought over a set of purple clay tea set.

Shen Yan poured himself a cup. The tea was amber-colored, slightly bitter on entry, but with a strange floral aftertaste.

He didn't speak, just listened quietly.

In the teahouse was the most authentic essence of Fragrance Prefecture's everyday life.

"Have you heard? Old He from 'He's Fragrance Workshop' in the west city probably won't hold out much longer."

An elderly man in a Tang suit at the next table sighed.

"That 'Rosemary Dell' of his only grows old varieties with low yields. How can he compete with industrial synthetic fragrances?"

Another tall, thin man chimed in.

"It's a pity. Old He's 'Ancient Scenting Method' craftsmanship is likely going to be lost."

"I heard that in the early years, his land actually produced 'immortal incense'! Someone smelled it once and said they couldn't forget that scent for three days."

"Hah, those are all old legends, they shouldn't be taken seriously."

Shen Yan held his teacup, his fingertips gently rubbing it.

Old He, Rosemary Dell, immortal incense.

Fragments of information slowly pieced together in his mind.

He finished his pot of tea and went to the counter to settle the bill.

Uncle Quan was wiping an old incense burner.

"Uncle Quan, I'd like to ask about someone." Shen Yan's voice was calm.

"Go ahead."

"What kind of person is Old He from 'He's Fragrance Workshop'?"

Uncle Quan's wiping motion paused.

He looked up and sized up Shen Yan again.

"Why do you ask about him?"

"I like incense, and I heard Old He is the most skilled master around here."

This reason was simple, yet true.

Uncle Quan was silent for a moment and sighed.

"Old He... is a stubborn man."

"He's spent his whole life guarding the rules passed down by his ancestors, looking down on those chemically blended things."

"He says true fragrance has a soul. Unfortunately, in this day and age, no one wants a soul; they just want it cheap."

Uncle Quan pointed to the west.

"'Rosemary Dell' is thirty miles west of the city suburbs. If you're truly interested, go take a look."

"But I advise you not to get your hopes up. That plantation of his will probably belong to the Bank by next month."

Shen Yan said his thanks and turned to leave.

He didn't go to 'Rosemary Dell' immediately but instead wandered around 'Baixiang Lane.'

He walked into spice shops one by one, looking at carefully collected top-grade agarwood and Kynam, listening to the shopkeepers tell legendary stories of spice harvesters.

He even spent tens of thousands of yuan to buy an unremarkable-looking piece of 'Yellow Ripe Incense,' simply because the shopkeeper said an eighty-year-old spice harvester had waited for three years in the deep forest to find it.

He didn't care about its authenticity.

What he cared about was the unique Artisan spirit of Fragrance Prefecture behind the story.

In the evening, Shen Yan found one of the most famous local private kitchen restaurants.

The restaurant was hidden in a deep alley without a sign, catering only to regular customers.

Not long after he sat down, he saw a white-haired, sorrowful-looking old man walk in carrying two bottles of liquor.

"A Hai, the usual, two small dishes."

The owner, A Hai, saw him and quickly went to greet him.

"Uncle He, why are you here? Things not going well today?"

The old man waved his hand and found a corner to sit in on his own, right at the table next to Shen Yan.

He poured himself a full glass of white liquor and downed half of it in one gulp, his face turning red from choking.

"A Hai, tell me, was I really wrong?"

The old man muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.

"I guarded that plantation, guarded those old things, guarded them for a lifetime."

"In the end, I can't even come up with the money for my wife's medical treatment."

The owner A Hai's eyes also turned red, not knowing how to comfort him.

Shen Yan ate his food quietly.

He knew that the person before him was the owner of 'Rosemary Dell,' He Jingzhong.

He Jingzhong drank glass after glass and was soon intoxicated.

He began to talk nonsense, saying that when he was young, he had smelled a scent like never before deep within the plantation.

"That fragrance... was like a celestial maiden blowing a breath in your ear."

"It was so fragrant... it made you want to cry."

"I searched for thirty years and never found it again."

"They all say I'm crazy, say I'm obsessed."

"But I know it was real, that scent was real..."

He slumped on the table, murky tears dripping into his wine glass.

The surrounding diners cast sympathetic glances.

A poor man who had been stubborn his whole life for an ethereal legend.