Chapter 3
Chapter 3: About to Get Rich
Before she left, Xiao Ying Chun checked everything twice.
Each ingot had a stamped seal. The copper coins came in three distinct designs; she chose one of each. From the broken silver, she took only a small piece.
She packed them quickly and hid the rest with the careful panic of someone who suddenly owned “antiques” that should not exist.
When she arrived at Xin Long Pawnshop, Dai Heng Xin practically lit up.
“Miss! You’re here—please, sit.” He looked like he was welcoming a VIP now, not a random girl off the street.
“Xiao Mei, tea,” he called.
Xiao Ying Chun waved it away, opened her bag, and dropped the ingots on the counter. “Skip the pleasantries. Check these.”
Dai Heng Xin winced. “Gently…” He sounded like it physically hurt him to hear metal clunk.
Xiao Ying Chun stared at him.
After a thorough examination, Dai Heng Xin’s excitement barely stayed contained. “Two ten-tael ingots. Good condition. Ten thousand each. Deal?”
Xiao Ying Chun snatched them back instantly. Then she slid three copper coins forward. “Check these too.”
Dai Heng Xin frowned.
He’d seen a lot in his line of work, but these patterns were unfamiliar. And yet the coins looked naturally worn, their surfaces bright like they’d been handled for years—not like modern fakes.
A short-lived era? A lost mint?
Rare meant valuable. If these were genuine…
His eyes warmed, but his face stayed neutral. “Miss, do you have more of this kind of coin at home?”
Xiao Ying Chun’s smile didn’t shift. “Don’t ask. If I can bring them, you focus on appraisal. If the price is right, I sell. If it isn’t, I take them back.”
Dai Heng Xin paused, then let out a small, helpless sigh. “All right.” He studied the coins again, then finally admitted, “I can’t be certain. How about this—I’ll photograph them and ask my teacher. Once I have news, I’ll message you.”
“Your teacher?”
“I studied cultural relic appraisal,” Dai Heng Xin said, humor edging his smile with bitterness.
Xiao Ying Chun’s sympathy flickered. “Fine.”
Jobs really were hard to find, huh?
She watched him take numerous high-definition photos from every angle, like he couldn’t bear to stop.
When he finally returned the coins, Xiao Ying Chun brought out a small piece of broken silver.
Dai Heng Xin took it without waiting for her to speak, weighed it, and nodded decisively. “This is silver.”
Relief hit her like a warm wave.
She put away the coins and broken silver, then sold the two ingots and left with 20,000 yuan.
On the way home, Xiao Ying Chun couldn’t stop thinking.
Ghost General would come back. He had to.
A few more trades like this and she’d hit her yearly KPI without breaking a sweat. Why hunt for a job at all?
She passed a shop selling safes, hesitated for half a second, then walked in and bought one.
Ten minutes later, 2,000 yuan was gone.
Worth it. If ancient money kept appearing in her life, she needed somewhere to lock it up.
The boss lady promised delivery after dinner, and only then did Xiao Ying Chun remember she still hadn’t eaten. She bought food, went home, and found the safe already delivered.
After eating, she stuffed every “impossible” item from today into the safe, slammed it shut, and spun the lock.
Then she sat down and did the numbers.
From Ghost General alone, she’d brought in 26,000 yuan in sales today. Even counting the freebies, her costs were 3,700.
Net profit: 22,300 yuan.
And that didn’t include the broken silver and copper coins she’d kept.
It was obscene.
In front of that kind of money, what did “seeing a ghost” matter?
Make money. That was the whole plan.
Tomorrow she’d order more compressed biscuits, install an air conditioner, and maybe replace the door—because summer heat and a metal safe did not belong in the same small space.
But then she reconsidered, suddenly wary.
If she renovated too much… what if Ghost General couldn’t recognize the shop?
Cutting off her own cash flow was not an option.
Fine. Just the air conditioner, then.
With her thoughts buzzing like a fever, Xiao Ying Chun fell asleep smiling.
On Fu Chen An’s side, the camp erupted.
The biscuits and water were tested again—no poison, no problems. Real food. Real water.
But the shop itself had become a mystery.
Only Fu Chen An could see it. Only he could enter and trade. And the shop’s owner was a young woman—pretty-faced, dressed far too lightly.
To everyone else, it was just a ruined archway leading into rubble.
It wasn’t illusion—not with piles of supplies stacked in their camp.
Someone finally blurted out, “What if it’s a mirage?”
A soldier snorted. “Have you ever seen a mirage like that?”
“Legends are legends,” someone argued. “Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it can’t exist.”
Fu Zhong Hai’s conclusion was practical. “Tomorrow, take more men. Buy as much food and water as you can. If she has anything else, buy that too. Ask how long the shop will remain there.”
In other words: probe.
Fu Chen An agreed and began preparations.
Fu Zhong Hai looked toward the deputy general. “If tomorrow truly brings us enough food and water, we prepare to attack the city.”
“Yes, sir!”
Joy crackled through the tent as everyone rushed to ready themselves.
Early the next morning, Xiao Ying Chun woke up energized and hurried downstairs for deliveries.
The delivery boss had worked with her for years. He stared at the stacks and whistled. “Girl, why so many compressed biscuits? You land some big client?”
Xiao Ying Chun didn’t miss a beat. “Big order. Outdoor survival. Everyone carries compressed biscuits and bottled water.”
“Oh,” the man said, immediately satisfied. “That makes sense.”
He unloaded quickly.
When the last carton hit the floor, Xiao Ying Chun let out a long breath. “Good. I’m ready.”