itle: "The Cost of Trust"
The young man frowned in confusion. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. How could it?"
"Indeed, who would do something so senseless?" the shopkeeper echoed.
The elder turned to the young man and instructed, "Go to the security office and report this. Everyone should be on alert; it seems Southport isn't as peaceful as it used to be."
"Don't worry, Father. I'll take care of it," the young man replied confidently.
The elder nodded and then addressed the shopkeeper and the assistant manager. "I understand this wasn't your fault, so there's no need to worry. And as for the boy, find him and let him know everything is fine now. But from now on, be more vigilant. Someone seems to be stirring up trouble in Southport, so keep an eye on things."
The elder looked down at the shattered porcelain on the floor, sighed, and added, "Such a shame to lose a piece of fine craftsmanship."
Watching this exchange, Fa Yinge couldn't help but admire the elder's shrewdness. No wonder the old man had become so wealthy—he knew how to handle situations like these with both wisdom and grace. The shopkeeper and assistant manager, their faces filled with gratitude, would likely remain loyal to him for life. Turning a broken plate and an unfortunate incident into an opportunity to strengthen bonds with his employees was truly a masterful move.
One day, Fa Yinge thought to himself, he would reach such a level of mastery in his own dealings.
Leaving the shop, Fa Yinge made his way quickly to the docks. He had just enough time to try his luck at a few gambling dens before his return to Laier. The hours flew by as he indulged in his favorite pastime. Fa Yinge was careful to keep track of time, knowing he had to reach the stagecoach stop before sunset.
When he finally emerged from the last gambling den, he was more than satisfied. Unlike the previous day, today Fa Yinge was heading back to Laier, uncertain of when he might return to Southport again. With that in mind, he didn't hold back. Like a greedy gambler on a winning streak, he kept raking in the coins, his pile growing ever higher, attracting more and more envious and dangerous glances from his opponents. But Fa Yinge pretended not to notice.
The hardened gamblers and bouncers in the casino watched him with the cold, calculating gaze of men used to dealing with fools who flaunted their winnings. They knew all too well that those who boasted too much in the casino often ended up floating face-down in the harbor by morning.
As Fa Yinge left the casino, a group of men who had lost everything trailed behind him, their eyes glinting with hostility. Fa Yinge, clutching the largest fortune he had ever amassed—a hefty sum of over 150 gold coins—was pleased with his haul. Although it wasn't enough to buy the stagecoach of his dreams, it was enough for a horse and its four legs. For three days' work, Fa Yinge was quite content.
Now, his immediate task was to lose the men following him. For a seasoned golden finger like Fa Yinge, shaking off a few thugs with obvious intentions and clouded by anger was child's play.
He easily drew the attention of a couple of plainclothes officers, forcing his pursuers to scatter. With his pursuers distracted, Fa Yinge slipped away and made his way back to the stagecoach stop, his pockets filled with his life's greatest winnings.
From a distance, he spotted the boy nervously pacing back and forth. The boy's expression visibly relaxed when he saw Fa Yinge approaching, the tension in his face easing, and a faint smile even tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You're here! I... I thought you wouldn't come. Did you tell Aunt Betty I'm going away with you?" the boy asked anxiously.
"Relax, I took care of it. But I have to say, your place is hard to find—all mud and a terrible smell. How could you live there for so long?" Fa Yinge replied casually, making up the story as he went.
The boy believed him without question, reassured by the details that confirmed Fa Yinge had been to his home.
A stagecoach was parked nearby, and the two of them climbed aboard. To be honest, this was Fa Yinge's first time sitting inside a coach rather than clinging to the luggage rack, and it was indeed far more comfortable.
Fa Yinge took a seat by the window, with the boy sitting across from him. The coach wasn't full; there were still two empty seats. The driver, waiting for more passengers, showed no sign of leaving anytime soon. Next to Fa Yinge, an elderly woman sat with her eyes closed, resting. Across from her, a middle-aged man fidgeted impatiently, grumbling about the delay and how long he had already waited. A young couple, seated near the door, whispered quietly to each other.
"I didn't bring any money with me. Should I…" the boy began nervously.
"Don't worry, I'll cover it for now. You can pay me back later," Fa Yinge replied nonchalantly. He thought for a moment and added, "You must be hungry. I haven't eaten either, and I'm not familiar with this place. Why don't you go get us something to eat?" He handed the boy a gold coin.
"That's too much!" The boy was clearly startled by Fa Yinge's generosity.
"I can't help it—I only have gold coins," Fa Yinge said, pulling out his stash of money to show the boy.
The sight of so much money made the boy's face go pale with worry. "Be careful! What if someone steals it?"
Fa Yinge nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Me, worried about thieves? he mused. I'm the best thief in the South! Who would dare try to steal from me?
Of course, he couldn't share these thoughts with the naïve boy. Instead, Fa Yinge reassured him, "Don't worry. None of the passengers here look like thieves. We'll be fine."
"Still, it's better to be cautious. By the way, how did you get so much money?" the boy asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Oh, I'm here to collect debts. My boss sends me to Southport every month to settle accounts. Today wasn't too successful—I only collected about thirty percent," Fa Yinge lied smoothly.
"Thirty percent? That looks like over 120 gold coins! So your boss brings in nearly 400 a month. What kind of business is he in? Are you collecting payments or interest?" the boy asked, intrigued.
Fa Yinge felt a pang of panic at the boy's probing questions. Worried he might slip up, he feigned impatience. "Why are you asking so many questions?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just a habit—I like asking questions. Aunt Betty says it's a bad habit and that I should stop, but I can't seem to help it. She says if I were wealthy, people would call me inquisitive and say I have potential. But since we're poor and can't afford school, my questions just annoy people. I really didn't mean anything by it. Please don't be upset," the boy babbled, his words tumbling over each other.
Annoyed by the boy's chatter, Fa Yinge turned to look out the window, wondering if he had chosen the wrong person. This kid cries too much, talks too much—he's like a woman. Is he really the right choice? Fa Yinge doubted himself for a moment.
Sensing that he had upset Fa Yinge, the boy fell silent. He jumped off the coach and dashed into a nearby alley, returning shortly with a basket in hand. As he rejoined Fa Yinge in the coach, he placed the basket in front of him and handed over a fistful of change.
"This should be enough, right? If it's not, I can go get more," the boy said, handing Fa Yinge the coins.
As a seasoned golden finger, Fa Yinge could tell at a glance how much money he held. He was surprised that the basket of food had only cost two silver coins—less than a meal at the cheap inn he had stayed at on his first night in Southport.
Seeing the confusion on Fa Yinge's face, the boy quickly explained, "I swear I didn't pocket any of the money…"
Amused by the boy's earnestness, Fa Yinge reassured him, "Don't worry, I wasn't accusing you of anything. It just seems like this basket of food was very cheap."
Relieved, the boy explained, "Prices here vary a lot depending on the time of day. I bought these pastries just now because they were left over from the morning. The big shops would rather sell them cheap than throw them away. So I got a good deal. The basket was included since they always give you a basket with your pastries. If you buy a lot, they give you a big basket; if you buy a little, you get a small, fancy one. Normally, all this would cost at least seventeen or eighteen silver coins, with the basket included in the price."
"Seventeen or eighteen silver coins," Fa Yinge echoed, impressed. "Well then, I'm looking forward to tasting what a seventeen- or eighteen-silver coin treat tastes like."