His heart was full of delight.
Two hundred thousand had bought him the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda, and, as a bonus, the Vajra Demon-Subduing Art.
The abbot was pleased too, naturally.
It had been a very long time since he'd met so generous a benefactor.
The second target was the Zhong Kui Ghost-Quelling Painting.
Unlike with the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda, the Wu family knew exactly how precious the Ghost-Quelling Painting was.
These days, wandering souls drifted outside the city at every hour. Even if nothing strange had shown itself yet, hanging an old painting with some years on it in the house was still a comfort to the heart.
So Chen Qing couldn't guess how high the price might climb.
A hundred thousand?
A million?
Or more?
Back home, Chen Man had already left for school.
An idea struck Chen Qing. He searched the app store for "borrow money."
Sure enough, there were plenty!
"Palm Loan."
And beneath it, a whole row of similar lending platforms.
Money was coming to him!
Chen Qing was delighted. He tapped download on one after another, and in moments a full five pages of his phone had turned into loan apps.
He opened the first. It would only lend 3,000...
Chen Qing was instantly let down.
Digging around inside the app, he found an asset-verification option.
He photographed the property deed, filled in all the various details, and returned to the main page—his limit had climbed to 120,000.
Sweet!
A pile of terms and conditions. He tapped "agree" on every single one.
The fine print about not using the loan to buy property or play the stock market—he tapped "agree" on all of it, without exception.
Then came the open-your-mouth, close-your-eyes liveness check and identity verification, and at last, the full 120,000 hit his account!
Chen Shan had left Chen Qing and Chen Man little more than this apartment. He and Chen Man were used to splitting a single yuan into two—but now, looking at the long string of digits in the account, he felt nothing at all.
This pile of money was destined to become garbage anyway.
He let out a sigh and tapped into the second app.
A round of operations, and this time he borrowed 50,000.
Then the next.
The next.
The next...
He'd pulled an all-nighter. He'd meant to catch up on sleep, but instead kept at it until high noon.
By then his account was fatter by a full 1.8 million, for a total of 10.8 million.
That should... be enough, right?
The biggest single item, of course, was the Zhong Kui Ghost-Quelling Painting.
Its price was anyone's guess, hinging entirely on how much the owner treasured it—could be two or three hundred thousand, could be tens of millions.
Chen Qing had to be fully prepared.
Beyond that, he planned to remodel his own home. The two super-relics guarded against ghosts, but he needed defenses against people too.
Before the Ghost Tide, building an apocalypse safe house had been a fringe niche.
But now it was a business barely smaller than real estate.
Most of the work targeted ghosts—silver-rune cloth lining the whole home, an entire house built of peachwood, walls with black-dog blood and glutinous rice packed into the cavities, and so on.
On top of that, food and clothing were another major expense.
Anything short of a few thousand tons in storage just didn't sit right with him.
The Demon-Suppressing Pagoda had a storage function, but right now it hadn't awakened yet!
It was still just an ordinary relic with a little history to it. Awakening had to wait for the Blood Moon—but after the Blood Moon, you couldn't buy anything anymore.
A vicious cycle...
Chen Qing thought it over and recalled an ancient tomb outside the city, one that later became a major source of the Ghost Tide.
Borrowing a bit of ghost-qi from inside it might activate the Demon-Suppressing Pagoda?
"Chen Qing, I'm home."
Chen Qing's apartment was on the sixth floor. The only one who'd shout up to him from the ground floor was Chen Man.
"I'm hungry."
Chen Man came in, saw that Chen Qing hadn't cooked, and said nothing more.
He went to the kitchen himself, climbed onto a little stool, rinsed and washed the rice, and set it going in the cooker.
Then he came to the shabby little table, spread out his books, and started his homework.
And, right on cue, at the very first problem he called out: "Chen Qing, I don't get the first one."
Same with the second: "Chen Qing, I don't get the second one."
"Chen Qing, I don't get the third one."
Chen Qing was long used to it, and taught him patiently.
Chen Man was very well-behaved, and very slow.
The next day.
Chen Qing set himself up with a new phone and a whole new outfit, and got a proper grooming at the barber.
Looking at himself in the mirror—slicked-back hair, a suit, a briefcase—he'd aged himself a solid five or six years.
He'd looked into the Wu family and finally felt some confidence. The Wus had once been well-off; their ancestors had been glorious, and the descendants were passable too. A few years back they'd plunged into the then-booming safe-house sector, lost a great deal of money, and were still tangled in several lawsuits.
At last he arrived at the Wu family villa. Not top-tier, but close.
He knocked.
A young man answered, eyeing Chen Qing in confusion. "You are?"
"My name is Li Qing. I've come on behalf of an elderly overseas gentleman to discuss a purchase." As he spoke, Chen Qing held out a bag of glistening fresh fruit.
This circle wasn't big, wasn't small; claim to be a local and a couple of extra questions would blow his cover.
"Ah? A purchase?" The young man was puzzled, but still welcomed Chen Qing inside.
Before long a middle-aged man came down from the second floor, and Chen Qing rose at once.
"I'm Wu Xiaomin. Hello." The two of them sat.
"Forgive the intrusion. There's an elderly gentleman who has taken a liking to your family's Zhong Kui Ghost-Quelling Painting," Chen Qing said with a smile. "For the sake of his business, this gentleman relocated abroad, but he's always loved everything to do with Zhong Kui. He asked me to inquire whether you might be willing to part with it."
"Overseas Chinese?" Wu Xiaomin's brow creased, but he shook his head. "That painting is a family heirloom. It's not for sale."
Refused outright, without even naming a price. This was going to be tricky.
"Of course! I completely understand. The Wu family is a house of standing in Ximing; you're certainly not short of this bit of money," Chen Qing said, groping for the right angle. "But this gentleman truly loves Great Tang culture—Zhong Kui and the whole ghost-culture he represents most of all. He must know something of you; he says he holds you, and your family's past glory, in great respect, and is willing to trade anything he can offer for it."
Wu Xiaomin smiled.
Everyone had their own point of pride, and Wu Xiaomin's was the glory of his ancestors.
"I'd very much like to meet this friend. Could you introduce us, young man?" Wu Xiaomin smiled.
"That may not be possible for a while," Chen Qing said, shaking his head, then steered the topic back to the painting. "Sir, a house as illustrious as yours surely has more than one heirloom treasure. This gentleman loves it down to his bones—please, part with it."
Wu Xiaomin peeled one of the oranges Chen Qing had brought, popped in a couple of segments, and said nothing.
Time to name a price.
Chen Qing thought to himself.
He would have this painting, no matter what!
Even if it cleaned out his account.
"Would he pay a million for it?" came a middle-aged woman's voice.
Yes! Yes, absolutely he would!
Chen Qing's heart leapt.
He looked up to see a plump, well-to-do middle-aged woman.
"This is my wife," said Wu Xiaomin.
"Hello, Mrs. Wu!" Chen Qing gave a slight bow. "Let me make a call."
He stepped out into the courtyard and dialed his brother Chen Kuan's number.
Which had, of course, long since been disconnected.
He put on a whole show of consulting and reporting back, then returned with a smile. "The gentleman says the price is acceptable. He also says he'd be delighted to have Mr. Wu as a guest."
Both Wu Xiaomin and Mrs. Wu were taken aback.
Because the painting wasn't especially old; by market value, it might have gone for one zero less.
Mrs. Wu suddenly stood. "Oh, no, not a million. Two hundred—no, three—five million! Five million!"
Then she cocked an eyebrow at Chen Qing. "Young man, you're the middleman. The higher the deal closes, the fatter your commission. If you'd put in a good word and we settle at five million, I'll wrap you a big red envelope on top!"
You want me to talk my own price up?
Chen Qing was speechless, and shook his head. "Mrs. Wu, from what I know of the gentleman, I'm afraid that price simply isn't possible. He might go a little higher. But only a little."
"No matter, say what you like! Anything over a million, you get 20 percent!"
Chen Qing agreed aloud, but inside he was thrilled!
He could have it for just over a million?
It was practically free!
He put on another show and made a second call.
This one dragged on especially long.
At last he came back. "The gentleman offers 1.6 million."
Wu Xiaomin's brow furrowed.
He hadn't actually meant to sell.
The Ghost Tide's effect on the north was limited, but even in peaceful times people prayed to gods and buried Buddhas for luck. In an age of hauntings, having a Zhong Kui painting with some age to it hanging in the house was a real comfort.
Mrs. Wu seemed to read his mind. She jabbed him with an elbow and whispered, "They've been after us for our debts these past few days—my heart jumps every time I hear a knock at the door. Don't you have several more Ghost-Quelling Paintings? Last time the appraiser said this one's only worth a dozen thousand or so. What's there to hesitate about?"
Wu Xiaomin finally nodded.
Only then did Mrs. Wu turn to Chen Qing, delighted. "How do you want to pay?"
"Draw up a contract, and I can transfer the money right now."
There and then, Mrs. Wu and Chen Qing worked out a contract amid laughter and chatter.
Soon, Chen Qing had transferred 1.6 million from his account to Mrs. Wu's.
Beaming, Mrs. Wu brought out the painting.
She also pushed over an envelope. Having handed one just like it over at the Wu house—no, having given away 200,000 the day before—Chen Qing could tell at a glance this held fifty or sixty thousand at most.
Nowhere near the 20 percent Mrs. Wu had promised—which would have been 120,000.
"This..." Chen Qing's expression turned sour.
He was faking it, of course.
When you're haggled down, you have to look thoroughly pained; only then does the payer feel they've come out ahead.
"Aiya, young man, that's plenty! Don't be greedy!" Mrs. Wu patted Chen Qing's knee. "Fifty thousand for an hour's work—that's a fine day's earning. And that overseas gentleman is bound to pay you a commission too."
"Mm." Chen Qing breathed out hard through his nose.
He unrolled the painting.
An ugly-faced Zhong Kui had seized two little ghosts, a heap of small-ghost corpses beneath his feet.
Vivid, alive.
No need to check whether it was genuine—this was the one!
That ferocious visage, visible across half the city, Chen Qing remembered it perfectly!
The Zhong Kui painting—acquired!