Chapter 2
Chapter 2: The Silver Ingot Was Real
By the time Xiao Ying Chun stepped out of Xin Long Pawnshop, she felt like she was walking through a dream.
Then she opened her WeChat wallet.
6,000 yuan.
Not a dream.
That silver ingot wasn’t a prop. It was real—an ancient five-tael ingot. Dai Heng Xin had offered six thousand on the spot, and she’d practically floated through the transaction in a daze.
Two cartons of compressed biscuits had cost her about three hundred yuan.
So she’d just made five thousand seven hundred in profit?
The margins were criminal.
Even drug dealers would fight her for this business.
And the “ghost” had said he’d come again.
Xiao Ying Chun stood on the sidewalk, torn between dread and greed. See a ghost… or be a poor ghost?
She looked at her WeChat balance again, and her hesitation evaporated.
She called immediately and ordered twenty cartons of mixed-flavor compressed biscuits, plus several cartons of water.
Fine. She’d gamble.
What if one bold move turned a bicycle into a motorcycle?
Meanwhile, Fu Chen An stood at the entrance of the strange shop with two cartons in his arms, the weight anchoring him to reality.
The curtain still hung there, but whatever lay beyond it blurred like heat haze. The boxes in his arms did not.
This wasn’t illusion.
Half believing, half doubting, Fu Chen An carried the cartons back to the city at the edge of the desert. The command tent stood in the central square, surrounded by rubble and scorched stone. War had gnawed the place down to bones.
As he walked, Fu Chen An barked, “Send Physician Niu to me.”
Physician Niu arrived and froze when he saw the contents. “This is…”
Fu Chen An tore open a pack, withdrew a biscuit, and handed it over. “Test it. Make sure it isn’t poisoned.”
Physician Niu looked baffled, but he obeyed. He sniffed it, tasted it, then soaked a piece in water and examined it carefully.
His eyes brightened. “Young General—no poison. It’s edible. And it tastes good.” He stared at Fu Chen An with open admiration. “Where did you get this?”
Ever since the army reached the outskirts of Yong Zhou, the world had become nothing but wind-blown sand. Supplies had failed. Water was scarce. Grain was scarcer. Yong Zhou still wouldn’t fall, and the army was pinned—unable to advance, unable to retreat.
Fu Chen An didn’t hesitate. “Order every unit to gather silver. We’re buying more of this.”
The deputy general turned to carry it out at once.
Physician Niu blinked like he’d heard a miracle. “Buying? This is something you bought?”
Fu Chen An nodded. “Yes. In a small alley.”
“A small alley?” Physician Niu stared. “There are still merchants in this town?”
The deputy general’s worry spilled out. “General, we’ve never seen food like this. And this place was razed—civilians fled long ago. Where would any merchant come from?”
“Anything that strange could be a trap,” someone else warned. “General, be cautious.”
Fu Chen An looked at them, unmoved. “Do you have another way to get food and water?”
Silence.
The deputy general’s cracked lips pressed together. His inability to answer was louder than any speech.
In their current predicament, all they had left was a gamble.
Armor scraped outside. Footsteps approached.
The marshal entered.
Fu Zhong Hai was middle-aged, but his presence filled the tent like a storm cloud. His gaze went straight to the cardboard cartons on the table.
“I heard you’re gathering silver to buy goods,” he said.
Fu Chen An clasped his hands in salute. “Father Marshal. I purchased these in a small alley—”
“Edible. No poison,” Physician Niu added immediately.
Fu Zhong Hai studied the strange packaging and the unfamiliar biscuits inside. He didn’t waste words. “Take a squad. We go see it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fu Chen An led thirty fully armed men into the ruins and down the intact alley.
They stopped before the hanging curtain. Fu Chen An lifted his hand. “In.”
He stepped through first. The thirty followed.
In the next instant, Fu Chen An stopped short.
Only he stood inside the shop.
Where were the others?
Outside, the soldiers found themselves standing among broken walls and collapsed stone, staring at one another in confusion.
Where was the shop? Where was the merchant?
Where was their General?
Panic rose. They searched the dead-end lane from end to end.
Nothing but rubble.
The captain made a snap decision. “Half stay here. The rest come with me—we report to the marshal!”
“Yes, sir!”
They turned to move—and Fu Chen An walked out through the curtain again, wearing the same baffled expression.
“Why aren’t you going in?” he demanded.
The soldiers went rigid, hair prickling under their helmets.
The captain swallowed hard and forced the words out. “General… we did go in. There were only ruins.” His voice cracked. “You weren’t there.”
Fu Chen An frowned. “That’s impossible.” He glanced at the curtain. “Try again.”
They tried. Again and again.
Every time, the soldiers saw only ruins.
Every time, Fu Chen An alone stepped into the shop.
By the fifth attempt, a grim understanding settled in Fu Chen An’s chest.
Only he could see it.
He gathered the silver and copper the soldiers had scraped together and stepped through the curtain one more time.
And collided, shoulder-first, with Xiao Ying Chun.
She’d heard the back-door sensor chirp “Welcome” over and over until she lost patience. She’d gone to investigate—and now a man with a blade was suddenly right in front of her.
Xiao Ying Chun’s smile came out stiff. She backed up fast. “Y-you’re here…”
Fu Chen An noticed her eyes fixed on the weapon and reflexively explained, “I’m here to buy goods.”
He placed a gray-yellow bundle on the counter and unwrapped it. Broken silver, ingots, and copper coins spilled out.
“These,” he said, steady and direct, “how much of the same biscuits and water can they buy?”
Xiao Ying Chun stared at the mess of money, her gaze snagging on the two ingots.
They were bigger than the last one.
With the other pieces and coins… her throat worked.
She forced herself to point toward the newly delivered stacks. “Take them. That’s all I have for now.”
Fu Chen An nodded, already thinking ahead. “Next time, can you prepare more? Fifty cartons of each?”
Xiao Ying Chun didn’t hesitate. “No problem. Come tomorrow and pick them up.”
Twenty cartons of compressed biscuits, twenty cartons of bottled water—her conscience twitched. She added a few cartons of instant noodles and several cans of luncheon meat from the storeroom.
Then, after a beat, she shoved in a bottle of Er Guo Tou liquor too.
Fu Chen An sheathed his blade and hauled the supplies out through the back door in multiple trips, his long limbs moving with practiced efficiency.
When the last carton vanished and the curtain settled again, Xiao Ying Chun stood alone, breathing shallowly.
Then she swallowed hard.
Close the shop.
Go to the pawnshop.