Chapter 31

Chapter 31

The antique dealer Qu Yixian recommended to Fu Xun was on the only road to the alien ruins.

From a distance, Fu Xun saw a small stall rising from the Gobi desert and paused, his tone a bit odd: “An antique dealer with a sharp eye? Can you explain your judgment criteria to me?”

Qu Yixian replied casually: “I made it up. So, shall we go?”

Even she hadn’t realized it herself: in front of Fu Xun, she reverted to her rebellious phase. He said one thing, she would counter, not to win an argument, just to annoy him.

Fu Xun only furrowed his brows and said: “If you communicated differently, I think our collaboration wouldn’t be this difficult.”

He didn’t mention collaboration, it would have been fine. But mentioning collaboration made Qu Yixian frown: “Did I agree to it? Collaboration is based on mutual trust and mutual benefit. Which part of that have you given me?”

After spending the past few days together, Fu Xun understood Qu Yixian’s stubborn but soft-hearted nature perfectly.

People like her are usually the type who do thankless work. Offend others with words, yet execute the task properly. In the end, who will be grateful? People only remember being provoked during the verbal clash.

He usually indulged Qu Yixian. Since this wasn’t the place to argue, he simply yielded: “Whatever you want, I’ll give you. Just not now.”

He raised his eyes, gesturing toward the antique stall: “Let’s handle what’s in front of us first.”

Strangely enough, if Fu Xun had argued, Qu Yixian wouldn’t necessarily have backed down. By dismissing it lightly, if she still clung to it, she would appear unreasonable.

Even if she had a few more verbal shots to fire, there was no proper motive left.

——

Qu Yixian led Fu Xun to the stall and leaned forward to tap the metal cash box placed boldly on the counter. The crisp sound quickly drew the stall owner’s gaze up from his phone.

She smiled and handed over a cigarette: “Jiang Cuo.”

The stall owner, named Jiang Cuo, stood up in surprise, took the cigarette with one hand, and shook Qu Yixian’s hand with the other: “Long time no see.” Then he glanced at Fu Xun standing beside her.

Qu Yixian introduced smoothly: “My friend, Fu Xun.”

She turned and introduced him properly: “Jiang Cuo, Tibetan.”

Jiang Cuo extended his hand amicably, shaking Fu Xun’s.

Jiang Cuo’s Mandarin was standard, with only rare characters showing a slight accent. Otherwise, apart from his Tibetan robe, there was little to indicate he was Tibetan.

Hearing that Fu Xun wanted to buy some collectible items, Jiang Cuo went back to his car, retrieved some ancient bronze coins. They were all unique in shape or design, not genuine antiques at all.

One even had the outline of Baigong Mountain stamped on it, with a small inscription: “Alien Ruins.”

Qu Yixian looked a little embarrassed, leaning on the stall as she sorted through the items: “Do you have anything more authentic? This friend of mine is Tibetan. I heard you have good items below market price, so we made a detour.”

She now doubted whether Jiang Cuo’s sharp gaze was genuine… With such a large “God of Wealth” statue in front of him, was he blind?

Jiang Cuo suddenly understood, went back to his car, and brought out a wooden box. The box was 20 cm wide, 25 cm tall—slightly thicker than a Chinese dictionary—square and neat.

He spread a red silk cloth on the counter, carefully opened the box, showing Fu Xun: “Song Dynasty Jun kiln sky-blue-glazed bowl with stand.”

Fu Xun only glanced, then smiled: “I’ve seen the genuine article. The cup and stand are fired together, the rim is round. Ancient people drank tea carefully to avoid burning their hands, so the middle was made with a raised edge, all covered in sky-blue glaze. This one…”

He stopped there, saying no more.

Jiang Cuo’s face darkened at first, feeling embarrassed. But as he continued to listen, hope returned, and a flush appeared on his cheeks; his gaze toward Fu Xun changed.

Without any hesitation, he said frankly: “This is a high-quality replica, the only piece I can show you now. When I first saw it, I couldn’t tell the difference. You didn’t even handle it closely—how did you judge it?”

Fu Xun, by profession, always cleans hands and wears gloves before examining artifacts, ensuring no sweat or modern chemicals damage them.

He hadn’t touched it, just lowered his eyes and examined it carefully, saying: “The edge of this stand shows new firing marks. The rim’s damage is a common flaw technique. The base imitation marks are severe. Even as a high-quality replica, it’s still a poor piece.”

After hearing this, Jiang Cuo’s eyes lit up: “I had eyes but failed to see Mount Tai.”

He covered the bowl with the red silk cloth, returned it to the box, and spoke again, now much more serious: “As you’ve seen, I only have a small stall. I can’t sell many collectibles. Even at this scale, no one believes I could sell rare items. My stall—cheap souvenirs cost five or six each, the most expensive is this stand, a few thousand. That’s it.”

Fu Xun was unhurried. He glanced at the wooden box on the cloth: “Huanglihua wood?”

Jiang Cuo followed his gaze and nodded: “This box is more expensive than the stand.”

The antique business was treacherous, especially for stall owners selling trinkets. They could deceive people far more easily than top domestic appraisers.

Jiang Cuo was a typical example. He used expensive wood to package a poor-quality high replica. Anyone with some knowledge would immediately be cautious at the sight of the wooden box holding the bowl; those less knowledgeable, hearing his spiel, would assume that if the box was this valuable, the bowl inside must be worth even more.

Qu Yixian wasn’t wrong to say he had a sharp eye. Jiang Cuo immediately saw she wasn’t a connoisseur and tried to bluff her.

Once he appraised it, Jiang Cuo knew he had met an expert and revealed everything.

Fu Xun turned, hooked an arm around Qu Yixian’s shoulder, pulling her slightly into his embrace. Before she could react, he lowered his voice and whispered in her ear: “Are you sure all his stock comes from Dunhuang?”

Qu Yixian nodded confidently. She could feel Jiang Cuo’s gaze on them, her ears warmed slightly, but she calmed herself and answered: “He said the channels were in Dunhuang, and I did meet him at a donkey meat yellow noodle shop in Dunhuang. That shop is on the antiques street, and he’s a regular. The owner said he eats there every time he comes to restock.”

As for his sharp eye and questionable sources—that was her own deduction.

You see, although the alien ruins are a tourist spot, outside the peak season, few actually come. It’s not even part of the classic seven-day Northwest itinerary.

Every time Qu Yixian came, Jiang Cuo was there. From a motorcycle to a Wuling Hongguang, his small stall was doing reasonably well.

Wasn’t that thanks to his sharp eye?

As for the illicit sources… Qu Yixian once saw Jiang Cuo wholesale half a carload of cheap trinkets on Taobao. She couldn’t openly call them counterfeit, so she said the sources were questionable.

Hearing this, Fu Xun had an understanding.

He pulled a sketch of a cloud-hook jade pendant from his phone and handed it to Jiang Cuo: “I’ll leave you my number. Keep an eye out in the Dunhuang market for this pendant.”

Jiang Cuo squinted his small eyes: “This is a Hongshan culture cloud-hook jade pendant, right?”

The Hongshan culture originated in central-southern Inner Mongolia to the western Northeast, dating back five thousand years, an important civilization comparable to discovering the pyramids in Egypt.

Jiang Cuo clicked his tongue twice, not immediately agreeing. He exhaled and said: “The ratio of fakes to genuine Hongshan cloud-hook jade pendants is one in ten million. Without certainty, I can’t handle it.”

Fu Xun put away his phone, smiling: “Just keep an eye out, and inform me if there’s news. Payment is negotiable.”

From the conversation, Jiang Cuo already suspected Fu Xun was no ordinary Tibetan friend. This task was easy, basically money for nothing; even if it didn’t appear on the market, he incurred no cost.

He readily saved Fu Xun’s number and sent the photo via Bluetooth.

——

Qu Yixian had no knowledge of antiques. She couldn’t understand, had no interest in analyzing, only vaguely felt the term “Hongshan culture” sounded familiar.

But she couldn’t recall where she had heard it.

She was about to move closer to see the image when her phone rang. Yuan Ye was calling.

She stepped aside a few paces and answered.

Yuan Ye, looking for her, immediately asked: “Qu Ye, is Xun Ge next to you?”

Qu Yixian glanced at Fu Xun a few paces away: “What is it? Just say it.”

“Weren’t you having me look for someone in Dunhuang at noon?” Yuan Ye licked his lips, throat dry from the wind. He coughed twice: “I asked a buddy I used to hang with. He has connections and just called me—was the person named Xiang Xiaolong?”

Qu Yixian’s heart skipped. She replied: “Yes. Do you know where he is now?”

“Not now.” Yuan Ye’s gaze stayed on Jiang Yun, who was taking selfies in front of the Maya pile, while listening to Qu Yixian: Is Jiang Yun standing too close to the lake?

“My buddy works at a nightclub. He said Xiang Xiaolong frequently went to his club in July and August to oversee a lady’s business. There’s a big conference in Dunhuang in September, with strict security, so Xiang Xiaolong wouldn’t come much then.” Yuan Ye paused, thinking if he’d missed anything, then added: “Oh… heard he left Dunhuang in early September. My buddy hasn’t checked the pawnshop yet, probably tomorrow.”

Qu Yixian nodded: “Not too urgent.”

She calculated the itinerary: tomorrow, they’d head back from Dachaidan to Kekexili; the day after, they could reach Dunhuang.

“The day after tomorrow, help me contact your buddy and have him bring along the lady Xiang Xiaolong usually oversees…”

Before she finished, she suddenly heard Yuan Ye shout: “Jiang Yun!”

Qu Yixian’s mind went blank. Instinctively, she looked toward the stone monument at the alien ruins.

The communication cut off. The north side of the mountain suddenly erupted with noise. Qu Yixian saw visitors turning back from the parking lot, their expressions changing from confusion to surprise.

Her body reacted before her mind, running toward the north side of the mountain.

By the lakeside, a crowd had gathered. The surface of Tuosu Lake rippled as if startled, concentric waves spreading toward the center.

Fu Xun had somehow caught up. His palm lightly pressed the back of Qu Yixian’s neck, giving a gentle squeeze: “Stand here, I’ll go take a look.”

He prepared to enter the water, unzipping his jacket and hanging it on Qu Yixian’s arm. Even the ferret that had been curled up asleep in his arms was placed into her lap.

Fu Xun’s tone was like leaving a child in someone’s care: “Take good care of it for me.”

Author’s note: Qu Yixian: Are you kidding me? Are you seriously handing over the hotpot ingredients to me right now?