Ye Zhishu left the Ye family villa with a smile.
With just a single sentence, she had made Ye Zhikuan spend twenty million for her—it was worth it.
As for Ye Zhikuan…
Ye Zhishu got into a taxi, recalling the almost ink-black scowl on Ye Zhikuan’s face as she left, and she couldn’t help but curl her lips in delight.
This was just the beginning.
Whatever the original owner had lost, Ye Zhishu would reclaim bit by bit for her.
“Master, take me to Antique Street.”
“Got it.”
The taxi driver pressed the accelerator, quickly driving Ye Zhishu away from the villa district.
Meanwhile, at the Ye family villa:
A clatter of porcelain shattering rang through the house. Ye Zhikuan cursed “Ungrateful girl!” several times before slamming his study door shut.
Someone had gone off in a huff.
“Mom…”
Ye Wanqing approached Yi Lan, linking arms with her. She was scared—she had never seen her father this furious. If not for her sister…
Biting her lip, she thought: everyone’s family, and yet her sister treated Mom that way. Mom forgave her, so why couldn’t her sister show a little understanding toward Dad?
“It’s fine, Wanqing. Go to your room and choose a dress for the banquet,” Yi Lan said, her face tight, forcing a smile as she patted Wanqing’s hand reassuringly.
Twenty million wasn’t much for the Ye family.
But all of it was supposed to be for the child in her womb. If Ye Zhishu took more, her own child would get less. And this was twenty million, not two hundred.
Now, even buying a million-dollar handbag required her to act coquettishly toward Ye Zhikuan. Twenty million… Yi Lan’s heart bled.
“Okay.”
Hearing about the dress, Wanqing’s attention shifted. In her heart, she wondered if she should remind her sister that a formal dress was needed for the charity banquet.
Forget it.
Her sister had been doted on by Dad since childhood—she surely knew better. If her sister didn’t like her, then she wouldn’t like her sister either.
Wanqing exited the chat with Ye Zhishu and cheerfully went upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, Ye Zhishu stepped off the taxi and was immediately greeted by a mix of delicious food aromas.
Left hand holding a starchy sausage, right hand a candied haw, wrists full of other snacks, she stepped onto Antique Street.
According to what she read online, this street was quite famous in Beijing, with nearly two hundred years of history.
Decades ago, one could even find treasures unearthed from tombs.
But in recent years, strict crackdowns had made true antiques rare. Most were new items made to look old; some were simply sourced from factories. Prices were cheap, relying on volume sales.
Street stalls lined both sides: raw stones, freshly carved Bodhi beads, jade bracelets, crystal ornaments—everything imaginable.
There were also actual shops, decorated in a rustic style, clearly expensive. Without enough cash, most people wouldn’t dare step inside.
Ye Zhishu nibbled at her snacks, fox-like eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
She was already full from the hotel breakfast, but wanted to try the “junk food” she had read about online.
After tasting it… it was delicious!
Her gaze swept across the stalls and shop windows: fake, fake, and more fake.
Antique Street formed a T-shape. Even at the end of the longest street, she hadn’t seen a single genuine item.
“Nowadays, even buying yellow talisman paper and cinnabar is this hard?”
She silently bit her sausage, sighing.
Turning a corner, her peripheral vision caught a small shop squeezed between others. Her eyes lit up.
Finally!
The shop had a narrow, small entrance. The counter took up almost the entire doorway. Behind it sat a man in a gray Taoist robe, his hair styled fashionably, around thirty years old.
A tablet rested on the counter, showing a live stream of a fishing host. Neither the host nor the man moved, as if entranced.
The walls were lined with drawers labeled neatly, resembling a traditional Chinese medicine shop. Outside, a salon-style LED sign read: “Return” (Gui Qu).
The name… sounded ominous.
People passed by, mostly glancing curiously at the man, then moving on. Without someone older to oversee, most would assume it was a fake antiques shop.
Ye Zhishu tossed her bamboo skewer into a distant trash bin with perfect accuracy, wiped her mouth, and stepped into the shop.
The man’s eyes remained glued to the tablet.
“Boss?”
She tapped the counter slowly, deliberately.
The man was startled, snapping out of his trance. Seeing Ye Zhishu, his eyes briefly flashed with admiration. “Yes?”
He still seemed partially absorbed in the livestream, looking dazed.
“Do you have tools for drawing talismans?” Ye Zhishu asked.
“Talismans? Yes, yes, yes!”
He stood up. The counter was small, barely enough to turn around. He opened a drawer above his head, taking out yellow talisman paper, cinnabar, cinnabar pens, everything.
“How many sheets do you need, little girl?” The man’s service was attentive.
He assumed Ye Zhishu, like the other girls who came in before, just wanted to try making talismans for fun after seeing videos online.
Most people would buy the items, see the price, and then run to the next shop for fake cinnabar mixed with powder.
Ye Zhishu examined the yellow paper and cinnabar. The paper was thick, clearly handmade. The cinnabar was a dark shade, with a grainy texture.
She could feel a faint spiritual energy emanating from it. This was genuine cinnabar, no fake powder mixed in.
“Pack it for me,” she said.
“Pack it?!”
The man was shocked. “L-little girl, are you sure? This… isn’t cheap.”
“Yes. The real thing is worth it.”
She glanced at the yellowed price list on the wall: cinnabar was 100 yuan per gram.
The small box he pulled out alone cost ten thousand yuan.
“You’re a connoisseur!”
Finally realizing Ye Zhishu was serious, he scrutinized her carefully, trying to guess her background—couldn’t figure it out.
Ye Zhishu smiled, revealing nothing. The man wisely didn’t press.
Once packed:
“You can pay via Alipay or WeChat. Total: 12,328 yuan. I’ll round it down—12,300 will do.”
Apparently, he rarely met someone as discerning as Ye Zhishu, and he was happy to be straightforward.
“Fine.”
Ye Zhishu took out her phone, about to pay, when a sharp voice suddenly rang out:
“Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You’re a liar!”