Chapter 47

Chapter 47: The Fox-Eyed Man Bai Kai Xin

Su Yan’s mind was still half inside her space, counting supplies, when her body suddenly lifted—then flipped, head down, feet up, like she’d been slung over someone’s shoulder.

With the System Map down, she had no idea where she was going. The world rocked in a sickening rhythm, and the rough weave of the sack scraped her cheek when she shifted.

Damn it. Little Mei had a talent for choosing the worst possible timing.

About half an hour later, the carrier finally stopped and set her down.

Su Yan didn’t move. Her only ability was a tiny fireball. Her stamina was awful. The System had always been her greatest support—and now it was on strike.

She had to rely on herself.

A steady knock sounded at the door—thick, rhythmic, metal-on-metal.

The door opened.

A raspy old woman’s voice cut through the air. “What, here to pay your debt?”

A young man answered quickly, oily with flattery. “Can I pay with goods instead?”

The old woman’s tone eased. “What goods?”

The sack was untied, light flooding in.

Su Yan opened her eyes and stayed perfectly still. Every muscle in her body braced, searching for escape.

In front of her stood a fat old woman with a face full of bumps, her expression sour and suspicious. A leather whip hung from her hand—its edge still smeared with fresh blood.

Beside her was a young man with fox-like eyes and sharp, sly features that made him look deceitful even when he wasn’t speaking. He wore his smile like a mask.

The old woman studied Su Yan’s face, then sucked in a breath. “Pretty.”

The young man gathered up the sack. In a blink it shrank back into a palm-sized pouch and swung from his waist. “How about this female?” he coaxed. “Can she clear my debt?”

Su Yan laughed, cold as a blade. “Why? I sat down on the grass to rest and you kidnapped me to pay what you owe?”

The two of them jolted.

“You’re not an idiot?” the old woman blurted.

“You’re not crazy?” the young man asked at the same time.

“You’re the crazy ones,” Su Yan snapped. “You’re the idiots.”

She turned and walked out.

The old woman’s whip cracked through the air and lashed the young man across the back. “Bai Kai Xin! You dare play me? I’ll beat you to death today!”

Su Yan glanced back once, then quickened her pace.

Bai Kai Xin bolted after her.

Su Yan’s pulse kicked. She spotted a restaurant by the road—lamps glowing warm behind lattice windows—and slipped inside, calling to the clerk wiping down tables, “I want food!”

If she begged for help, the clerk might hesitate. If she ordered a meal, she became a customer—and customers meant money.

The clerk’s face brightened instantly. “Right away! Honored Customer, please take a seat!”

Bai Kai Xin followed her in.

The clerk’s expression hardened the moment he saw him. “Bai Kai Xin. You still owe for meals. When are you paying?”

“I—I’ll pay later,” Bai Kai Xin stammered, then fled again, shoulders hunched as if the words had whipped him.

Su Yan watched him scurry away like a rat chased through the street. Everywhere he went, people demanded their money.

No wonder he’d resorted to kidnapping.

It dredged up memories she hated.

Back on Earth, she’d once owed money too—money to an organized loan-shark outfit, all because a dorm friend in college had tricked her.

The collectors came to her door, stole every last bit of her mother’s savings, and beat her mother so badly she ended up in the hospital.

Su Yan had burned with rage, but rage didn’t buy power. At the bottom, she’d been helpless.

She’d known the man who could help her would never give her peace. He wasn’t someone she should get involved with.

But when her mother was hurt, she couldn’t endure it.

That day, rain had poured like a waterfall. She’d stood in front of his car until the door opened—and the scent of expensive tobacco, the particular smell of him, had branded itself into her bones.

Su Yan swallowed hard and forced herself back to the present.

“Clerk,” she said, “how much does Bai Kai Xin owe you?”

“Not much. Two hundred red coins.”

“Go call him back. Tell him I’ll treat him to a meal.”

She took several red coins from her space and set them on the table. The coins clinked softly, bright and final.

The clerk’s smile returned at once. “Thank you, Honored Customer! Please enjoy some tea. I’ll go right away.”

He pocketed the coins, poured her a pot of hot tea, and hurried out.

Su Yan studied the restaurant while she waited. The walls were hung with bright menus, inked in neat columns. Thanks to the System’s language support, the words slid into meaning no matter what script they wore.

And the place itself…

Compared to the West District, it was like stepping into another age.

Back there, they lived in caves and mud huts, wearing beast hides, surrounded by raw wilderness.

Here, the floors were polished wood. The ceiling was carved and patterned. Lattice windows were inlaid with enamel and glazed glass that caught lamplight in soft colors. Wind chimes chimed faintly in the breeze. Even the people outside wore cotton, linen, silk—embroidered, jeweled, clean.

It felt like she’d leapt from the Primordial Ancient Realm’s most primitive era straight into a far later civilization.

She sipped the fermented red-broth tea. It was astringent, but there was true tea fragrance beneath it.

“The East District…” she murmured. “Not bad at all.”

Soon, Bai Kai Xin returned with the clerk.

Su Yan pointed at the menu and ordered the most expensive items—four dishes and a soup.

The clerk nearly glowed with happiness. Then he turned to Bai Kai Xin and instantly scowled again. “Speak properly to the Honored Customer. I won’t chase your debt today.”

“Yes, yes,” Bai Kai Xin said quickly. “Third Brother, you’re busy—go on.”

Su Yan poured him a cup of tea. “Sit.”

Bai Kai Xin hesitated, then sat down and bowed his head. “I was wrong. My lord… please, don’t hold it against me. Spare me this once. I swear I’ll never do this again.”

Su Yan watched him a moment. “You look like someone debt has cornered.”

A humorless smile tugged at his mouth. “I used to be a peddler in Pomegranate Blossom Town. I sold small goods door to door—needles, thread, whatever people needed. The business wasn’t big, but it kept me fed. Then my mother got sick. We spent all the money. I borrowed and borrowed… and in the end, I still couldn’t keep her.”

Whether it was true or not, it stabbed Su Yan cleanly in her weak spot.

Her mother.

She didn’t ask how she was. She couldn’t.

“How much do you owe?” she asked instead.

Bai Kai Xin stared at her, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “With interest… around three hundred thousand red coins.”

Su Yan’s voice went light, almost careless. “Is that enough to buy your life?”

Bai Kai Xin froze. “What… what do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Su Yan said. “Just asking.”

She reached into her space and produced a handful of crystal coins.

Even in the warm lamplight, they looked cold—clear, sharp, expensive. In the West District, red coins and crystal coins exchanged at ten thousand to one. She didn’t know the East District’s rates, but crystal coins were obviously worth far more.

Bai Kai Xin’s fox eyes widened until the whites showed. “Who are you? How do you have that much money?”

Su Yan stared at the coins for a heartbeat, then closed her fingers over them.

How was she supposed to explain?

That it was her burial wealth?