MTL - He Became a Salted Fish After Inheriting Millions of Secret Arts-Chapter 23 Charing Cross Road
They read all morning. Al kept asking questions like a curious baby. Whenever Duan Feizhuo encountered a question that he couldn't answer, he would show a mysterious smile and prevaricate it with the phrase "you need to think more independently".
This trick has an unexpected effect. Every time he said that, Al would hang his head, ashamed that he only knew how to ask the teacher for the answer when he had a problem. Duan Feizhuo felt a little embarrassed seeing him like this.
In the afternoon, Al was going back to the tailor shop to help his mother, and Duan Feizhuo happily granted him the leave.
As soon as the boy left, he locked the door behind him and let out a long sigh of relief.
"Finally gone..." Duan Feizhuo wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Shi Zhongjian laughed wretchedly, "Didn't you behave well, mentor?"
"I don't know how to perfuse him for a few days." Duan Feizhuo said sadly, "What if I finish reading all the books in my hand? Then there will be nothing to teach?"
"Buy a new one!"
"You really don't have a backache while lying down and talking. Where can you buy it?" Duan Feizhuo glanced at Sword in the Stone, "Aside from the secret trading house, are there other stores that sell secret art items in the world?"
"Of course there are. There are many similar shops! It's just that the secret trading house is the largest, most famous, and best hidden among them."
"Speaking of which, where did uncle learn the mystical philosophy? His family...ah no, isn't my family already in decline? No one should teach him. It's impossible for him to be a genius without a teacher, right? "
Shi Zhongjian snorted twice, "I remember he said that he taught himself. He bought books related to esoteric philosophy in a second-hand bookstore. He mentioned the location of that place, but I don't know the specific name of the store."
"Where is that store?" Duan Feizhuo asked eagerly.
"Of course it's the most famous bookstore street in London," Shi Zhongjian said contemptuously, as if it was unbelievable that Duan Feizhuo didn't even know about it, "Charing Cross Road."
If ever there was one place that defined the Victorian English book industry, it was Charing Cross Road.
Duan Feizhuo was carrying the cloth bag with the sword in the stone, and looked at the bustling street in front of him in surprise.
It is like a picture scroll of an era, slowly unfolding in front of him. So many bookstores, so many books. Some shops occupy several facades, the windows are bright and clean, beautiful and beautiful, and the exquisite signboards are shining in the sun; No room for a second guest. Bookstores that follow the trend hang notices at the door, with the words "Arthur Conan Doyle's masterpiece "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes"" in eye-catching fonts. Newsboys with their little bags full of newspapers shouted "Latest The Times! The Times!"
Duan Feizhuo suddenly remembered something.
He grabbed a passing man and asked, "Do you know how to get to the Leaky Cauldron?"
The man gave him a strange look, "I've never heard of this place."
Duan Feizhuo thanked him disappointedly. The man ran away in a hurry, thinking he had encountered a madman.
"What's the Leaky Cauldron?" asked Ishi Zhongjian.
"Where the dream started." Duan Feizhuo replied sadly, "It seems that my dream of going to Hogwarts to study has been shattered once again."
Shi Zhongjian was confused.
Duan Feizhuo looked at the row upon row of bookstores in despair. Finding a bookstore that sells books on esoteric philosophy among them is tantamount to finding a needle in a haystack.
"You said you didn't know the name of that bookstore?" he asked.
"Looking one by one, there will always be something to gain." Shi Zhongjian is full of mysterious confidence.
"Not necessarily, maybe I will die of old age first." Duan Feizhuo was very pessimistic.
"Don't you know how to use the method of elimination? First of all, it must be an old bookstore, so you don't need to look at those who specialize in new books. Second, if it is opened by a mystic, it will definitely remember your uncle's name. You just need to ask It will do if Joseph Chester has come to buy the books."
"What if the people in that bookstore—those mystics attack me?"
"Since your uncle can buy books there, it means they are quite friendly."
Duan Feizhuo sighed, that was the only way to do it. He walked to the nearest second-hand bookstore. There was a musty smell of paper in the shop. He asked the clerk if any Mr. Joseph Chester had bought books, and the clerk told him coldly that their customers were always anonymous.
"It's as if I'm a secret spy." Leaving the bookstore, Duan Feizhuo thought depressingly.
He asked shop after shop and searched for the whole afternoon, and the answer he got was either the same as the first bookstore, or "there is no such customer in this shop".
When passing by a large bookstore, he bought a copy of "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes".
"...You still like to watch this?" Shi Zhongjian was shocked.
"A Christmas present for Ruth."
"Who is Ruth?"
"My friend in Aberdeen."
Shi Zhongjian grunted unhappily, as if it was a treasonous thing for Duan Feizhuo to have friends.
Duan Feizhuo found nothing until dusk. He decided to go home and continue tomorrow. Anyway, the bookstore is located somewhere in Charing Cross Road, as long as he is patient enough, he can always find it, right?
He walked home along the sunset-lit road, holding in his arms the two books he was going to give Ruth.
Shi Zhongjian said in a low voice, "Boy, be careful."
Duan Feizhuo was shocked, "What?"
"Someone is following you."
Duan Feizhuo pretended to accidentally drop the book on the ground. He bent down to pick up the book, patted the dust off the cover, and took the opportunity to glance behind him out of the corner of his eye.
Sure enough, there was a suspicious looking guy about ten steps behind him.
It was a young man, less than thirty years old, elegant and handsome, with a poetic temperament. He was well dressed, with a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles in his breast pocket, a leather-bound book in one hand, and a civilized staff in the other.
In the eyes of ordinary people, he is just an ordinary young gentleman who has just bought his favorite book from Charing Cross.
But Duan Feizhuo could see clearly that the Civilization Staff in his hand exuded the unique gleam of esoteric items.
He was undoubtedly a mystic.
There are many pedestrians on the road, and if they fight here, they will not only expose their identities, but also accidentally injure innocent people. Or find a quiet place where no one is, as you did with Smith.
Duan Feizhuo changed his route and turned into an alley.
As expected, the young gentleman followed in.
Duan Feizhuo stopped, pulled out the sword from the stone, turned around abruptly, and confronted the young man face to face.
"Who are you?" He asked coldly.
The young gentleman did not rush, smiled slightly, and said in a polite tone, "I am just a troubadour, studying the knowledge of the woodland."
Duan Feizhuo was taken aback, this sentence sounded very familiar, as if he had read it somewhere. Is this some kind of code? He only knows the quadrant for symbols that change even and remain the same, and one hundred and eighty cups of court jade liquid wine. He really can't match this code!
"You, what do you want to do?" Duan Feizhuo asked again.
"Shouldn't I ask you this question?" The young gentleman's smile became a little cold, "What is the purpose of you asking around about Joseph Chester?"
"Joseph Chester is my uncle. I inquire what is the matter with him?"
The young gentleman raised his eyebrows, and looked at Duan Feizhuo up and down, "Are you his nephew? Then you and the Secret Realm Trading Company..."
Duan Feizhuo observed the young gentleman's expression. This guy is less hostile than Smith, more vigilant and measured.
But having said that, this young man looks more and more familiar, where did he meet him?
"Can you put on your glasses?" Duan Feizhuo asked cautiously.
The young gentleman was puzzled "Why?"
"Just put it on!"
The young gentleman took a step back, took out his glasses from his pocket, and placed them on the bridge of his nose. The glasses were supported by a gold chain, which dangled in the wind.
Duan Feizhuo gasped.
He finally understood why this guy looked familiar! He had seen pictures of this man in textbooks!
"Are you Mr. William Butler Yeats?" Duan Feizhuo asked incredulously, "Mr. Yeats, the poet who wrote "When You Are Old"?"
