Qing Chen had never seen more than eight thousand yuan in his life. He refused a transfer and insisted on taking cash.
As the old man in the gold shop counted the money, he muttered, "You're pretty cautious for someone so young. But caution is never wrong in your line of work. Bring any more hauls to me next time. If the quantity's big enough, I'll raise the price by five yuan per gram. I'll take however much you've got."
The old man seemed to have taken Qing Chen for a thief, but Qing Chen did not argue.
He handed the money to Qing Chen, then watched him inspect each bill under the light, one by one—the watermark, security thread, tactile markings, hidden angled print. He did not miss a single checkpoint.
In the end, Qing Chen pulled two bills from the stack. "Please exchange this fifty and this twenty."
The old man's teeth ached. "Most people in your line take the money and leave after selling gold. Not many are as meticulous as you."
As he spoke, he opened the drawer beside him and swapped out the two bills.
"If you want to do business properly, don't try to pass fake bills on people in the future," Qing Chen said.
"Fine, come by often," the old man said helplessly.
Qing Chen took the money and left. The elderly gold shop owner, missing a tooth, watched his retreating figure and thought to himself that this boy would surely make something of himself someday—he would become a king of thieves.
He took seven or eight turns through the alleyways before catching the bus home.
He also bought over ten pounds of beef, three pounds of eggs, and some vegetables at the farmers' market.
Ye Wan had said that he needed to