Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Citywide Stock Transfer
Coins chimed somewhere in the air—bright, crisp, impossible to miss—and an electronic voice followed.
“Supermarket revenue: 26,000 RMB; 50 taels of fine silver; 56 copper coins; 100 taels of gold (deposit).”
“Trading partner entry method…”
Prompt after prompt scrolled through Xiao Ying Chun’s mind until she froze, stunned.
So that was why an ancient general had shown up to shop.
Her little convenience store had turned into some kind of cross-spacetime supermarket system.
And from years of gaming, she knew exactly what that meant: systems could level up.
Right now it was only Level 1—bound to Fu Chen An for trading. But later? It might connect to other people… maybe even open other spacetime routes.
The thought sent a rush through her chest. Excitement, relief, vindication—all at once.
She opened the storage function.
The moment she stepped in, she blinked.
It was just her storeroom.
The run-down two-story building was her parents’ legacy—eighty square meters total. Downstairs, about thirty square meters was storage, and a little over forty was the shop floor.
With a three-meter ceiling, that storage space came out to roughly ninety cubic meters.
Five thousand cartons of compressed biscuits and five thousand cartons of bottled water—maybe it wouldn’t all fit in one go, but two trips should do it.
Once the math clicked, she turned to the cloth bag of gold.
Inside were ten plain gold ingots.
They were small and flat, wider at the ends and pinched in the middle like a bow tie, with a stamped seal in the center.
She checked gold ingot prices online, did the numbers twice, then finally let herself breathe.
After that, she slipped two ingots into her shoulder bag. She added the three copper coins from yesterday, then locked the other eight gold ingots into her safe before heading out.
If she wanted to bring in five thousand cartons of biscuits and water, she needed at least 800,000. No wholesaler would extend that much credit. She’d have to pay a deposit first and settle the balance on delivery.
She didn’t have the cash—so she’d sell gold.
And while she was at it, she’d make sure the ingots were real.
In a T-shirt and shorts, face bare and hair tied back, Xiao Ying Chun walked straight into Xin Long Pawnshop.
Dai Heng Xin spotted her and stood immediately, his grin practiced and bright. “Back again, beauty? What do you have for me today?”
Xiao Ying Chun’s gaze slid past him to the new face in the shop: an older man with thinning gray hair and a shiny bald crown. She said nothing.
Dai Heng Xin read the wariness in her eyes and hurried to explain. “This is my mentor—also my uncle. He’s a PhD supervisor in cultural relic authentication at Bei Cheng University. Professor Dai Wang Nian.”
Xiao Ying Chun didn’t argue. She simply pulled out her phone and searched.
Bei Cheng University’s official site came up quickly: cultural relic restoration, PhD supervisor, Dai Wang Nian. The photo was clearly polished, but the eyes, the brows, the shape of the head—no mistaking him.
Only then did her shoulders loosen. She sat.
Dai Heng Xin’s attention lingered on her shoulder bag.
Xiao Ying Chun caught it and decided not to let him circle. “Teacher Dai is the one Boss Dai mentioned? The teacher who looked at copper coins?”
Professor Dai’s eyes sharpened. “You’re the one with those coins?”
Xiao Ying Chun nodded, careful not to offer more than that.
Professor Dai smiled faintly, the kind that came from long experience. “I mean no harm. I was going to have Heng Xin contact you. I’ve never seen that type of coin before. I searched the literature and found nothing. I’m curious. I want to see the real thing.”
After a beat, Xiao Ying Chun took out three copper coins and placed them on the tea table.
Professor Dai picked one up at once. He examined the face, the rim, the wear—and then, unexpectedly, brought it to his nose.
No earthy smell. Just like the silver ingot from before, it didn’t feel freshly excavated. More like something collected and handled over time.
Everything about it seemed right: the look, the sheen, the weight. He checked again, slower.
Nothing was wrong.
Except for one problem: he had never seen this style of Great Liang Tongbao, and the silver house named in the earlier ingot’s inscription was unfamiliar too.
But unfamiliar didn’t mean fake. It could be unrecorded. Or recorded somewhere obscure. Or so rare that almost none survived.
Xiao Ying Chun waited him out.
At last, Professor Dai set the coin down. “Two thousand yuan each.”
His tone stayed gentle, almost apologetic. “On the market, Great Liang Tongbao usually sells for around one thousand per coin. Yours is a design I’ve never encountered, so it’s worth more. But there’s wear, so two thousand each is the best I can offer. Would you be willing to part with them?”
Xiao Ying Chun thought about the stash sitting in her safe at home and nodded without hesitation. “Deal.”
Professor Dai looked genuinely pleased and waved to Dai Heng Xin. “Pay her.”
Dai Heng Xin counted out the money, but his eyes flicked again to her bag. He’d seen the toilet paper wrapping inside.
When the payment was done, he leaned forward, voice light. “Miss Xiao, do you have anything else? Something for us to broaden our horizons?”
Xiao Ying Chun considered it. Then she took out the bundled wad of toilet paper and set it on the table.
Both men went still.
After three odd transactions already, neither of them reached in too quickly. They exchanged a look, then Professor Dai carefully unfolded the layers.
A bright gold ingot gleamed up at them.
Even prepared, they still stared.
“This is… a gold ingot?” Dai Heng Xin blurted.
Xiao Ying Chun nodded.
Professor Dai looked like he might vibrate out of his chair. “Gold is different from silver. Even in ancient times, ordinary people didn’t trade in gold ingots. They rarely circulated.”
He told Dai Heng Xin to fetch a scale, then lifted the ingot as if it might crumble. He checked the stamp, the edges, the surface. Then he weighed it.
“Three hundred sixty-two grams.”
He looked up, eyes lit. “Ten taels. Exactly.”
Before Xiao Ying Chun could speak, he slid naturally into lecture mode. “Ancient scales were sixteen taels to a jin, so one tael varied—roughly thirty-one to thirty-six grams depending on region and era…”
Xiao Ying Chun nodded along, letting him talk. The more he talked, the more certain she felt: this was real. Real enough to become the money she needed.
Finally, Professor Dai stopped. “Are you selling it?”
“I need cash,” Xiao Ying Chun said, face solemn. “I don’t have a choice.”
Professor Dai didn’t press her for a story. He pulled Dai Heng Xin aside, spoke in a low voice, then returned.
“I’ll offer eight hundred thousand for one ingot. How does that sound?”
Xiao Ying Chun almost choked.
Eight hundred thousand.
She nodded fast. “Yes.”
Then she reached into her bag and set down another. “I have two.”
Silence.
Professor Dai stared at the second ingot. Dai Heng Xin went wordless, then slowly reached for the scale again.
When Xiao Ying Chun left with the money, Dai Heng Xin finally exhaled hard. “Uncle… this is a pawnshop. You can’t buy at market price. If it were me, I’d offer sixty at most.”
Professor Dai’s face stayed stern. “The inscription is unfamiliar. It could be from a dynasty we’ve never recorded. For the same ten-tael ingot, prices can differ by more than ten times. I’m already offering low. How can you take advantage of her ignorance?”
He paused, then added, quieter but sharper, “And that young woman has more. If she realizes later she was cheated, do you think she’ll come back? Or will she find another channel and never return?”
Dai Heng Xin had a dozen arguments, but he swallowed them. He knew that look. Scholar pride wasn’t something you won against.
Xiao Ying Chun didn’t hear any of it.
The moment she stepped out of the pawnshop, she called Uncle Liang, a wholesaler she trusted, and placed her order.
Water was easy. Mineral water could be pulled anytime.
Compressed biscuits were the problem.
Five thousand cartons in a single day meant citywide stock transfer—maybe even pulling from neighboring cities.
Luckily, Xiao Ying Chun knew where to give. “Brand doesn’t matter. Packaging doesn’t matter. Just get me five thousand cartons.”
Uncle Liang promised it could be done.
Only then did Xiao Ying Chun finally let her breath settle—and start thinking about what came next.