Chapter 119: The Courtyard House

It is hard to imagine the hardships my mother must have endured, rising from an orphan to graduate from university and eventually secure a job. Similarly, within the tomb-guarding clan my father belonged to, one would assume he had kin. However, after making inquiries, I learned that my father was an only child; my grandparents passed away shortly after he was born. I am truly left without a single relative in this world.

The phone number given to me by Black Sunglasses was for a landline. It connected quickly, and the voice on the other end was gruff. I identified myself as a friend of Black Sunglasses, explaining that he had provided the number and that I had some "goods" I wanted to offload. When asked what kind of goods, I used the code word he had taught me: "Mingqi"—a term for artifacts unearthed from tombs, a play on the word for funerary objects.

Upon hearing the name Black Sunglasses, the man exclaimed, "Old Black? That kid is still alive?! Damn! Where are you? I'll come pick you up!"

I gave him the name of the supermarket below my apartment building. He told me he would be there in ten minutes. I put on my coat and paced the room for a moment, stealing one last, lingering look at the family portrait. Then, I turned away and never looked back. I feared my resolve might falter, but there were things I had to do, and as I had told myself before, I was running out of time.

I locked the door and hurried downstairs. At the supermarket, I bought a bottle of cola, cracked it open, and gulped it down. The carbonation soothed my throat and eased some of the oppressive weight in my chest. In truth, I desperately wanted a drink, but alcohol would dull my senses and slow my thinking—a fatal mistake given my current situation.

Time passed quickly. Just after ten minutes had elapsed, a gold-colored van pulled up in front of the supermarket. My phone rang, but the caller hung up after only two rings. Then, the van honked twice. I knew he had arrived.

When I opened the door, I found the driver to be a stocky, middle-aged man with a shaved head. He looked rugged, spoke with a thick Northeastern accent, and had the air of a quintessential, reliable man from that region.

He told me to hop in and started the engine. As we drove, I asked, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough. You brought the goods, right?"

I grunted in affirmation, and he said nothing more. However, I noticed him glancing at the rearview mirror to observe me repeatedly. Since we were strangers and the connection was solely through Black Sunglasses, I remained silent.

After about half an hour of driving, I realized he was driving in circles, clearly a man of extreme caution. As the van slowed down, he said to me, "Don't take it the wrong way, kid. I called Black and found out you’re being targeted by that bunch of vultures led by Old Ghost, so we have to be careful. But don't worry, once you're on my turf—call me Monk—no matter who these 'ghosts' are, they’ll have to keep their heads down. You’re safe here. Consider the drive a little tour. My brothers in the trade call me Monk Wei, and you can too. Since you're a friend of Black's, you're a friend of mine. Haha."

I offered a polite smile, thanked him, and addressed him as "Brother Monk" as I stepped out of the van. We were at a traditional courtyard house deep in an alleyway. It seemed quite busy, with people coming and going, yet everyone spoke in hushed tones. The courtyard was crowded, yet eerily silent, which felt quite strange.

"Keep your voice down. That’s the rule here."

I nodded without a word. I knew that every place had its customs, and when you enter a place, you follow its rules—especially in trades that operate in the shadows. Those who break the rules rarely meet a good end.

I followed Monk Wei into a room filled with shelves holding various antiques. My eye for such things was limited, so I couldn't tell the real from the fake. A thin man wearing glasses sat inside. When he saw us, he looked up and immediately smiled. "Oh, Master Wei! Come in, have a seat. What brings you here today? And who is this young man? He looks unfamiliar—is this his first time?"

Monk Wei pulled up a chair, poured himself a cup of tea, downed it in one go, and smacked his lips. "Cut the chatter, Gold-Handed Jin. This kid isn't in the trade, but he's a friend of mine and has something to move. Hurry up; my time is precious."

"Goods?!" Gold-Handed Jin’s expression shifted, becoming even more eager. "Ah, a guest introduced by Master Wei! Say no more. If it’s coming from you, it must be the real deal. Young man, let's see what you’ve got. Let me take a look."

I didn't say much. Since Black Sunglasses had vouched for him and I had a decent impression of Monk Wei, I readily reached into my small bag and pulled out a jade bead. I had been keeping it, along with a few other items, on me at all times.

Gold-Handed Jin took the bead, his expression turning to one of surprise. He picked up a magnifying glass to examine it. After a moment, Monk Wei urged, "Well, Old Jin? Has your eyesight failed you? You’ve been staring at a tiny bead for ages. Don't be so slow."

"Don't be so impatient, Master Wei. I’m just being careful so I don't make a mistake and embarrass you. This bead has some years on it. Looks like something from 'down below,' doesn't it?"

"Cut the crap!" Monk Wei grumbled.

Gold-Handed Jin smiled and nodded. "Right, right. This is a jadeite bead, quite old. The 'womb-green' inside is extremely pure, the kind only royalty or high nobility would have possessed back then. And it’s perfectly preserved, which is rare. In our trade, we call this 'Jade Linglong.' It's a top-tier piece among jadeite beads. A real treasure."