Volume One: Qin Yang of the Northern Sea Chapter 9: The Unexpected Windfall

In late September 2020, after just receiving his salary, he began pondering where he might go to enjoy himself; after all, it had been nearly two months since he’d arrived in Bin City. Life had been leisurely, especially after he’d cleared out Wang Dafu and his cohort—the entire security department was now essentially his domain. Even Wu Yao’s words carried little weight with him lately. Recently, he’d applied to establish a training base within the company, the purpose being to keep everyone in shape—he didn’t want them turning into a bunch of overweight sloths.

He hopped into a taxi and headed toward the Antique Market. In Bin City, aside from the bar street, the main attraction for visitors was this very market. Here, the authenticity of items was nearly impossible to discern; if you managed to buy something genuine, congratulations, you’d struck gold. If you bought a fake—well, tough luck, you’d taken a loss. Everything depended on your eye; if you were deceived, you had only yourself to blame for lacking the necessary skill.

Of course, there were also plenty of high-quality replicas, which could serve as pleasant decorations at home. As he was about to get out, the taxi driver turned to him and said, “Young man, the wares here are tricky. Sometimes you can bargain down the price by half—never rush to pay, always examine things carefully.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, Uncle. I’m just here for fun, to take a look around.”

With the driver’s well-meaning advice in mind, he stepped out of the car and surveyed the bustling scene. The street teemed with people coming and going. Although it wasn’t a holiday, the thronging crowds spoke to the market’s thriving business.

The Antique Market was divided into three streets and three avenues, forming a grid reminiscent of the character for 'field.' He’d done some research on this place and now wandered like an ordinary tourist, taking in the sights. Shouts of vendors echoed all around him. He was genuinely surprised—after some comparison, he realized that the high-quality replicas here could easily pass for the real thing. If not for the powerful inheritance he possessed, he wouldn’t have had this discerning eye.

Suddenly, a pile of silver dollars caught his attention, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Boss, how much for these silver dollars?” he asked.

The vendor, seeing that he was a young man, replied, “One hundred yuan for five.”

“Are these real?” he pressed.

The vendor burst out laughing. “Kid, if they were real, the price would be a hundred times higher. What do you think?”

Qin Yang nodded. “Boss, that’s too expensive. I’m just traveling and want to bring something back for my friends to prove I’ve been to Bin City. How about ten yuan for two?”

The vendor hesitated, then sighed. “Alright, I’ll take a loss for the business. Take them.”

Qin Yang left with two silver dollars, delighted. These two coins were clearly different from the rest, or he wouldn’t have bought them. As for exactly how, he wasn’t yet sure—he’d need to find an expert to take a look.

He wandered around but found nothing else worthwhile. Just as he was about to head home, he spotted a painting that made him pause. The colors were vivid; the seals indicated it was a work from the Republican era by an unfamiliar artist, so the price wasn’t high. For collectors, its value wasn’t particularly great, but as a decoration, it would suffice.

“How much for this painting?” he asked.

“Twelve hundred, fixed price,” the vendor replied.

A foreign tourist overheard and shook his head. “Too expensive, and it’s a fake. Never mind, I won’t buy it.”

“I’ll take it,” Qin Yang said, handing over the money without haggling. The vendor was taken aback by such an easy mark—people who didn’t even bargain were rare.

Having purchased the painting, hunger set in, and he found a restaurant for a meal.

Meanwhile, Zhang Yiming, an antiques enthusiast, had spotted a painting in this very shop on a previous visit. Uncertain about its authenticity, he’d meant to return with an expert, but upon his return, the shopkeeper informed him it had just sold. He felt a wave of disappointment; his instincts told him this was a hidden painting—a painting within a painting. Such concealment, even if the inner work wasn’t a masterpiece, meant it was still of significant value.

“Uncle Luo, I’m sorry to have dragged you out for nothing. There’s a restaurant ahead—let’s at least have a meal,” Zhang Yiming said helplessly, leading Luo Dayou toward the eatery.

There, Zhang Yiming’s eyes widened as he spotted the very painting on the neighboring table. “Uncle Luo, that’s the one!” he exclaimed.

Luo Dayou and Zhang Yiming sat down beside Qin Yang. “Young man, may I take a look at your painting?”

Though puzzled, Qin Yang nodded. “Of course.”

With care, the two men unrolled the scroll. Luo Dayou’s brow furrowed in concentration. This was surely a painting concealing another within; the two were almost seamlessly joined. If he hadn’t seen this technique in his youth, he wouldn’t have believed it existed.

Seeing Luo Dayou’s reaction, Zhang Yiming knew his hunch had been right. But now the painting belonged to someone else; he regretted not spending the twelve hundred to secure it himself.

“Young man, my name is Zhang Yiming. I’d like to buy this painting for one hundred thousand yuan—what do you think?”

Their conversation stunned everyone present. Who could have guessed this unremarkable scroll was worth so much?

All eyes turned to the young man, eager to see his decision. Qin Yang shook his head. Though he didn’t know exactly what was hidden within the scroll, his curiosity was stronger than any desire to sell; he wanted to discover the value for himself.

Zhang Yiming was crestfallen. Even after offering such a high price, the man refused to sell. There was nothing more he could do.

“I want to see what’s inside before I consider selling,” Qin Yang said.

Hearing this, Zhang Yiming’s face lit up with joy—it was exactly what he’d hoped for. He just wanted to see the hidden painting.

“And what’s your name, young man?” Luo Dayou asked with a smile.

“Qin Yang.”

Zhang Yiming, barely able to contain his excitement, waited patiently for Qin Yang to finish his meal before dragging him home.

The villa was vast, filled with all manner of antiques. Some were high-quality replicas, others genuine treasures of considerable value. By his rough estimate, the collection was worth several hundred million yuan—Zhang Yiming’s family was truly wealthy. What was more, everything was displayed openly, as if he had no fear of thieves.

“Qin Yang, bring over the painting—I can hardly wait,” Zhang Yiming urged.

Luo Dayou was visibly excited as well. Last time, he’d only been a witness; now, he’d get to unveil the mystery himself. He steadied himself, trying to keep calm.

While Luo Dayou prepared his tools, Qin Yang felt in his pocket and remembered the two silver dollars he’d bought.

“Mr. Zhang, could you take a look at these silver dollars for me and tell me if they’re real?”

Zhang Yiming, puzzled, adjusted his glasses and stared at the coins in disbelief. These coins were so common as to be worthless—unless, of course, they were genuine, in which case their value would skyrocket.

“These are real,” Zhang Yiming said after five minutes of scrutiny, struggling to keep his composure. He could only marvel at Qin Yang’s extraordinary luck.

“Qin Yang, I’ll buy these two silver dollars from you for thirty thousand yuan. What do you say?” Zhang Yiming ventured.

“Deal,” Qin Yang agreed without hesitation. He’d spent ten yuan and now was selling for thirty thousand—his heart was bursting with joy. Finding such a bargain felt like a game.

If only Zhang Yiming knew what Qin Yang was thinking—he’d surely go mad.