Trust stores are pretty much like pawn shops. Ordinary people can consign their items for sale, pay a certain handling fee, and if the item doesn’t sell, they can redeem it; or the store can buy the item outright and then sell it themselves. The prices are extremely cheap because there’s a rule called “used can’t be more expensive than new.”

These days, visiting trust stores is a hobby for many people—not to buy, just to browse. Sharp-eyed folks often manage to find some real treasures.

As soon as the two of them walked in, they felt the lighting was dim and the goods were disorganized. All sorts of furniture, porcelain, bronze ware, clothing, leather goods, phonographs, clocks, and so on were scattered across the shelves and counters.

There was a huge variety, most of it secondhand, and you didn’t need ration tickets!

Andrew Brooks glanced around and quickly took a liking to a full-steel wristwatch. When he asked the price, it was only twenty-five, so he promptly paid for it.

Brian Clark wandered for a while, then suddenly his eyes widened, w（ﾟДﾟ）w!

Holy crap, what did I just see? He rushed over, and there, on display, was a pair of grand armchairs—broad and imposing, with the backrest and armrests forming a single piece, creating a three-panel screen, dignified and precise, made from heavy materials.

Next to them was a sign: Rosewood chairs, fifty.

Oh my! Oh my!

Brian Clark was losing his mind—fifty yuan for a pair of rosewood grand armchairs! Even though the era wasn’t specified, grand armchairs like these, if they’ve survived, are either from the Ming or Qing dynasty.

People these days don’t value old things; what they want are refrigerators, color TVs, and bicycles. All those ancestral heirlooms are being sold off for next to nothing, or even thrown away as junk.

But everything sold at the trust store has to go through strict appraisal, so authenticity is basically guaranteed.

His eyes red, he reached into his pocket, and the next second he was even more frantic—damn it, he didn’t have fifty yuan! He only had a little over twenty, and that included his train ticket home.

“Hey…”

He looked at his companion, who clutched the wristwatch. “What do you want?”

“Can you…”

“No! This is for my dad, and besides, I already paid.”

Aaaahhh!

Like mourning the dead! Like mourning the dead!

That’s exactly how Brian Clark felt now, watching the treasure right in front of him, but unable to get his hands on it.

He lingered in front of the chairs for ages, until a customer nearby, having waited impatiently, asked, “Hey buddy, are you taking this or not?”

“Oh, go ahead, go ahead!” he said, letting go with great pain.

That customer was clearly an expert. After feeling the chairs over, he cheerfully paid on the spot. Oh man, Brian Clark could only sigh even more, looking back at every step as he left. Andrew Brooks frowned, “It’s just a pair of chairs, is it really that big a deal?”

“Don’t mind me, I’m dead.”

“Drama queen!”

The girl really did ignore him and went on browsing by herself.

“These imported ice skates are only twenty. I just saw domestic ones at the department store for seventy.”

“These records must be from the Republic era—oh, there’s even Zhou Xuan.”

“Why are there flowers for sale? Hey, what kind of flower is that?”

She nudged someone, who glanced over with a look of utter despair. “You don’t even recognize clivia… Hm? Wait a second!”

Brian Clark immediately perked up and strode over. At the base of the counter were two pots of flowers, each with two seedlings, just sprouting a few thick, glossy green leaves.

They were clivias.

“Comrade, are these flowers for sale?” he called out.

“……”

The shop assistant wasn’t sure and asked someone else. After learning they’d just been brought in for consignment, he replied, “Yes, three yuan per plant.”

“So expensive?”

Andrew Brooks couldn’t understand, but saw that guy already hugging the flowers. “I’ll take both pots!”

And so, Brian Clark spent twelve yuan, bought a small box as well, and carefully placed the flowers inside as if they were treasures.

“Why did you buy them?”

“As a gift for my mom! You hardly ever see these in Ancheng,” he said without missing a beat.

Clivia is a South African species, very rare, only discovered in 1823. It was first cultivated in Europe, then brought to Japan in 1854.

Later, when the Japanese built Manchukuo in Spring City, they presented it to Puyi, making it an imperial court flower. After liberation, it spread among the people. Now, the main place it’s grown is Spring City, and only in recent years has it slowly spread elsewhere, but still in very small numbers.

At least, he’d never seen it in Ancheng…

These two little seedlings probably came from someone short on cash, who even brought out their flowers to sell. Three yuan might seem expensive, but he knew in his heart it was absolutely not! At! All! Expensive!

In an instant, he felt much better, though he was still regretful, and left the store, looking back at every step.

Chapter 8: Returning Home

“Boom!”

“Rumble!”

A green train, belching smoke, pulled into Ancheng Station in the middle of the night.

Not many people got off, just a scattered few, walking along the brightly lit platform for a bit before turning down the steps. As soon as they turned, it was as if all the lights had been switched off—pitch black everywhere.

A staff member swung a kerosene lamp back and forth, guiding passengers. In the distance, there were still some lights at the station entrance.

They were supposed to arrive in the evening, but the train broke down midway, causing several hours of delay.

Brian Clark carried the small box, with a weary Andrew Brooks following behind. The two of them were worrying about how to get home, but as soon as they stepped out, they saw two dark figures lying on the square.

Andrew Brooks squinted for a while, then called out tentatively, “Dad?”

“Hey, we’ve been waiting for you for ages!”