Chapter Nine: A Chance Encounter

Zhu Senlin openly invited Zhang Can to dinner in front of Old Su, and to Old Su, this was yet another bad sign.

Zhang Can didn’t stand on ceremony, but after rising, he said to Zhu Senlin, “Boss Zhu, why don’t you invite Old Su as well? We can chat over dinner. I’d like to learn more from him.”

Zhu Senlin was taken aback, forced a smile, and replied, “Well... I can’t leave the shop right now. If Old Su goes, there’ll be no one to handle things if a customer comes in. Maybe next time, next time!”

Zhang Can’s face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. He nodded, “Alright, maybe next time then.”

Old Su felt even more bitter inside. Clearly, Zhu Senlin had private matters to discuss with Zhang Can. It was already half past five, the end of the workday, yet Zhu Senlin didn’t want him to join. The message couldn’t be clearer.

Zhu Senlin drove a BMW 5 Series, a Brilliance BMW, made domestically. In Jin City, most people could estimate a person’s wealth by their car. If someone drove a car worth around a hundred thousand, their net worth likely wouldn’t exceed a million. Some even bought on credit, spending money they hadn’t made yet, burdened with debt and barely any cash to spare.

With Zhu Senlin driving a car worth six or seven hundred thousand, Zhang Can figured his fortune must be around ten million.

“Zhang, did you really learn your skills from Old Su?” Zhu Senlin asked as he drove.

“I picked up some experience from him after moving to Jin City. But back home, my high school teacher was a folk expert in this field. I learned a few basics from him. Boss Zhu, it’s nothing impressive—just enough to earn a living,” Zhang Can replied smoothly. The bit about learning from his high school teacher was fabricated, but it caught Zhu Senlin’s attention. Subconsciously, he now believed Zhang Can’s skills came from the old artisan teacher, not Old Su, and that Old Su’s failure today wasn’t due to carelessness, but because his skills were inferior.

Zhu Senlin laughed, “Zhang, you’re too modest. If your skills are just the basics, what hope is there for everyone else? They say the waves of the Yangtze River push the old forward, and new generations replace the old. Inevitably, the old will be washed up on the shore!”

“Haha, Boss Zhu, you have a way with words!” Zhang Can replied lightly. In front of Old Zhu, he had to subtly diminish Old Su without making it obvious.

Zhu Senlin glanced at Zhang Can and smiled, “Zhang, what are your plans for the future?”

This question carried a hint of something more. Zhang Can understood—this was Zhu Senlin dropping a hint, perhaps even sending a signal. But Zhang Can wasn’t in a hurry; this couldn’t be rushed. Old Su’s decades of experience couldn’t be undermined in a day. Besides, Zhang Can’s aim wasn’t just to pull Old Su down from his position as master appraiser at Old Stone Studio; he wanted Old Su’s family ruined, wanted him to taste despair.

Such a result couldn’t be achieved in one step. Old Su was a crafty old hand, and the traps he set wouldn’t easily ensnare him. The stakes needed to be higher, so patience was essential.

Truthfully, Zhang Can admired himself these days. Perhaps it was due to the mysterious black-and-white eyes, but he could stay calm in any situation, always feeling everything was under his control.

“I don’t really have any plans. Like a nephew with a lantern, just carrying on as usual,” Zhang Can said calmly. “I eat and drink, wander around the market to pick up small profits, make a living. Plus, Boss Zhu just helped me make a handsome sum.”

“Ah, Zhang, don’t say that—that was earned by your own skill. Society is survival of the fittest; if you can earn that money, it’s because you have the ability. If you asked someone who makes a thousand a month to do a million-dollar job, he couldn’t do it even if you threatened him,” Zhu Senlin waved his hand, then eyed Zhang Can again. “Zhang, have you ever thought about finding a stable job? Being a drifter won’t last forever.”

Zhang Can pondered for a moment, scratched his head, and smiled, “Boss Zhu, I’ve always liked this carefree life. But... if there’s an opportunity, a steady job wouldn’t be bad. While I’m young, a career matters too... Boss Zhu—”

“Zhang, don’t always call me Boss Zhu. Just call me Old Zhu—it sounds friendlier,” Zhu Senlin said, growing more familiar, his intention to recruit Zhang Can becoming ever clearer.

“Alright, then I won’t be shy. I’ll call you Old Zhu from now on,” Zhang Can replied, but he didn’t outright say he wanted to work for him.

The meal was oddly tense. Zhu Senlin hinted, Zhang Can deflected, neither accepting nor rejecting the offer.

By the time dinner was finished, it was past nine o’clock. Zhu Senlin, emboldened by warm wine, insisted on dragging Zhang Can to a nightclub.

Zhang Can declined, mainly because Zhu Senlin seemed a bit drunk. The restaurant had a parking lot; no need to worry about the car. Outside, Zhang Can flagged a taxi, helped Zhu Senlin inside, spoke a few words to the driver, paid the fare, and only then allowed the cab to drive off.

Only after Zhu Senlin’s taxi vanished into the night did Zhang Can take out the one-million check and kiss it.

No one was around; his joy was irrepressible. A million—enough to sweep away all his worries!

Yet deep down, Zhang Can found it hard to believe it was real. Was he truly a millionaire? But the check was tangible, lying in his pocket.

Still, reality couldn’t be ignored. He really had made a fortune today, an unimaginable sum. Yet in Jin City, what did it mean? Not enough to buy an apartment. With prices at thirty or forty thousand per square meter, a hundred-square-meter flat would cost three or four million. Add renovations, furnishings, appliances—no matter how frugal, at least four million. And living in such a place, even if you don’t eat or drink, there are water and electricity bills, management fees—thousands more. If your income falters, you’re in trouble. You might afford the place, but not the upkeep.

Even with the black-and-white eyes, Zhang Can felt worried; there was no guarantee he’d keep making big money. So, this million—he had to carefully plan how to use it.

He’d never walked such a long road at night.

From the restaurant downtown, Zhang Can walked all the way back to his place in the urban village, nearly an hour and a half on foot. He had cab fare, but carrying a million made him too excited to sit still; so he walked, not feeling tired at all.

It was eleven by the time he entered the village alley. As he passed through the dark passageways, he suddenly heard the sounds of a quarrel between a man and woman, followed by a scuffle and a woman’s shrill scream.

Probably a couple or boyfriend and girlfriend fighting. Such things were common these days.

Zhang Can didn’t pay attention; it was late, better to hurry home. But after a few steps, someone rushed out of the alley toward him. In the darkness, he couldn’t see who it was, but a hand grabbed his and a low voice pleaded, “Help me, please help me...”

It was a woman’s voice. Zhang Can was startled. Some men, when enraged, beat without restraint. If the man chased after her, Zhang Can might get dragged into the violence.

In the urgency of the moment, Zhang Can didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the woman’s hand and ran toward his place, using his familiarity with the area to move quickly despite the darkness. At his building, he hurriedly fumbled for his keys, struggled to unlock the door, then pulled the woman inside and shut the door tightly.

Outside, a man’s voice cursed, “Come out, where did you run off to? Found yourself a lover, did you? Get out here or I’ll kill you...”

In the darkness, both Zhang Can and the woman were panting heavily, but they held their breath, afraid to make a sound.

“Liu Xiaoli, get out here! Where are you hiding?” the man shouted again, seemingly kicking the garbage bins in the alley.

Apart from the faint sounds of televisions from those still awake, no one paid any heed. In the city, people kept to themselves, renters barely spoke to neighbors, sometimes not once in a year. Once inside, doors closed immediately. Even if a brawl ended in death, no one would intervene; everyone kept their distance.

“Liu Xiaoli?”

Hearing the name, Zhang Can paused. That name was deeply etched in his memory—the class beauty he secretly loved for three years in high school was also called Liu Xiaoli.

Of course, the woman he’d brought inside couldn’t be that Liu Xiaoli. Names were common enough; with so many people in China, there must be tens or hundreds of thousands of Liu Xiaolis. The surname Liu was widespread, too.

“You...” Zhang Can hesitated, then softly asked, “Do you want to go back, or should I call the police?”

“No, no... please don’t call the police,” the woman replied firmly, clearly unwilling to return, then after a pause, whispered, “Sir, may I hide here for a while?”

Zhang Can hesitated again. Her hand trembled in his grasp; he felt pity. He knew agreeing might bring trouble, but he couldn’t bear to leave her outside. With a sigh, he said, “Come upstairs with me.”

There was a light in the stairwell, but he didn’t turn it on, fearing it would alert the man, so he used his phone screen as a faint guide, holding the woman’s hand as he led her up.

On the fourth floor, he found the key by touch, opened the door, brought her inside, shut it, and then turned on the light. “Sit for a while. I’ll get you some water.”

The woman had a good figure, but her hair was disheveled, covering most of her face, and her eyes shone with terror.

Zhang Can looked around his bare room. Aside from the bed, there was nothing else—he’d sold his computer and TV. Pointing to the bed, he said, “Just sit here. I’ll boil some water for you, so you can drink and wash your face. When your friend calms down, you can go back.”

“I...” The woman’s fingers were clenched so tightly they were turning blue. Her voice trembled, “Sir, can I stay here tonight? I won’t sleep, I’ll just sit...”

As her face moved, Zhang Can froze in shock, exclaiming, “Xiaoli... is it really you?”