Chapter 78: An Old Acquaintance

Chapter 78: An Old Acquaintance

The top-floor office at The York Group.

"Mr. McCall responded." Jeffrey swallowed. "He agreed to give Mrs. York three days of paid leave, and all the deadlines will be pushed back."

Louis’s hand froze halfway through the stack of documents.

He'd already prepared himself for a thorough scolding from that cranky old scholar. He'd even had the finance department prepare contingency plans for paying breach-of-contract penalties on the project.

"He didn't blow up?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

"No," Jeffrey answered honestly. "Mr. McCall said. " Why would someone with an injured hand be typing on a keyboard? He told her to rest at home. If it leaves lasting damage and she can't write anymore, he'll hold you accountable."

Louis let out a quiet, cold laugh.

He leaned back in his leather chair, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face.
Leandro was famous for being ruthless. Years ago, when The York Group paid him three hundred million dollars to proofread an overseas acquisition document, he thought there were too many grammatical errors and threw the original straight into the shredder.

Now he's being this protective?

Good. At least now there was a legitimate reason to make Elisa rest properly.

Three days later, the scrape on Elisa’s palm had formed a neat scab, and the swelling in her right foot had vanished completely.

At nine in the morning, she clocked in on time at the translation center in the downtown district.

She'd just sat down at workstation three when the office door swung open. Leandro strode out, car keys dangling from his hand.

"Put your stuff down." Leandro jerked his chin at her. "Come with me."

Elisa grabbed her jacket and followed.

The sleek black Passat slipped out of the secure compound and headed north through the bustling city until it turned into a quiet, tree-lined lane in an older neighborhood.

Pushing open two heavy wooden doors revealed a spacious courtyard inside.

Two century-old ginkgo trees grew in the yard, their early autumn leaves covering the stone path. A marble table and benches sat beneath the trees.

Two people were seated at the marble table.

One was Theron, whom Elisa had already met at the Emberfall City symposium a few days ago.

The other—a plainly dressed man with silver-streaked hair—was bent over an old document, completely absorbed.

"Philip, stop looking at that old rubbing of yours." Leandro walked over and patted Philip's shoulder, pointing at Elisa behind him. "I brought her."

Philip looked up.

He was Philip Hill, one of the world's leading experts in religious studies and ancient languages, and a consultant to several major museums.

Philip set down his reading glasses and examined Elisa with sharp eyes.

"Is this the exceptional student you took on in Emberfall City?" Philip looked Elisa up and down. "I heard she silenced Victor's team in just two weeks so thoroughly they didn't dare say a word?"

Theron picked up his cup and laughed.

Theron lifted his teacup, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Leandro hasn’t stopped bragging about her. Philip refused to believe the hype, so he demanded a personal demonstration.”

Leandro sat down on a bench and waved his hand. "Test her however you want."

Philip didn't waste words.

He pulled out a high-resolution scan from the document folder on the table and pushed it to the edge.

"A stone tablet fragment was unearthed in a remote region last month. Involves an obscure variant language from the sixteenth-century Central Asian language family."

"Take a look."

Elisa stepped forward.

She didn't pick up the paper, just stood at the table's edge and looked down.

The characters were faint, the edges eroded, and several root combinations defied standard linguistic patterns.

The courtyard was very quiet. All three legendary scholars fell silent, their eyes focused entirely on her.

Two minutes later, Elisa straightened up.

"It's not a Central Asian variant." Elisa's voice was calm and certain. "This is a hybrid structure of Tocharian dialect and early Khotanese. The inscription's content is a merchant guild tax list."

Philip's hand paused mid-gesture.

Elisa extended her finger, pointing at several spots on the paper.

"The third root in the first line means 'spices.' That special symbol at the end of the second line is a weight measurement unit unique to Central Asia at that time. This kind of irregular hybrid grammar has very few similar records in the 'Kashgar Commercial Documents.'"

Philip exchanged glances with Theron, then turned back to Leandro,

"All correct." Philip let out a long breath, the scrutiny in his eyes giving way to amazement. "She even recognized that extremely obscure measurement symbol. Leandro, you really struck gold this time."

Leandro took a long, satisfied sip from his teacup, failing to suppress the proud smile tugging at his lips.

Philip looked at Elisa again.

This time, his gaze held a complex mix of emotions.

"Leandro." Philip hesitated. "Don't you think her profile when she looks down at documents resembles someone?"

Theron's smile faded as he nodded solemnly.

Leandro's hand holding the cup froze in mid-air.

The atmosphere in the courtyard suddenly grew heavy.

"Yes, she does." Leandro's voice dropped, his gaze drifting past the courtyard wall as if looking toward a very distant past. “Especially that focused look in her eyes when she corrected the text. It’s… identical.”

Elisa sensed something.

The first time Leandro saw her, he'd had this same shocked and nostalgic look.

"Mr. McCall," Elisa asked. "Who are you talking about?"

Leandro snapped back to the present and met her eyes. Deep regret and old pain swam in his gaze.

"An old friend." Leandro sighed. "Back at Luminary College, her language talent crushed all of us. If she were still here, I'd never be sitting in the director's chair at the translation center."

Elisa didn't respond.

She didn't know why, but when she heard those words, her heart began to race.

"Let's not talk about the past." Leandro waved his hand, breaking the somber atmosphere in the courtyard.

"I called you two here today not just to show off my exceptional student, but also for another matter."

Leandro took a sip from his teacup and continued. “A while ago, Odette called me personally. There’s a young woman close to her who has a serious interest in linguistics. Odette asked me to teach her personally. The girl is my god-granddaughter.”

Theron raised an eyebrow with interest. "For you to accept her as a god-granddaughter and specifically bring her before us, Odette must really value her."

At that moment, the heavy wooden door creaked open.

The sharp click of high heels on the stone path was confident and bold, completely out of place in this ancient, quiet courtyard.

Elisa instinctively turned around.

A young woman in a Chanel haute couture suit walked into the courtyard. Her makeup was flawless, her long hair styled in soft curls, and she carried a limited-edition platinum handbag that cost more than most people earned in a year.

It was Angelina.