July fourteenth, three o'clock in the morning. On the bluestone in the back alley of Huai'an Zhai, Shen Xinghe squatted down and unconsciously rubbed his fingers over the bronze mirror he had just received. The mirror was covered with a layer of dark green rust, but it reflected his face as pale as paper. The night wind picked up the dead leaves at the entrance of the alley, casting intertwined shadows of branches on the mirror. In a trance, those shadows were like countless twisted fingers scratching desperately in the mirror.
Lao Zhou stood under the streetlight with his neck curled up, and the orange halo was cut into tiny spots by the bamboo hat on his head. He watched Shen Xinghe wrap the bronze mirror in velvet and couldn't help but say: "Xiao Shen, do you really want to take away this mirror? The seller said it was dug out of a mass grave on the outskirts of the city. You also know that we are very particular about this business..."
"Okay." Shen Xinghe interrupted him, and the cold touch of metal penetrated into the palm of his hand through the fabric, "The complete Tang Dynasty sea beast grape mirror, the asking price is only 800, it is not a loss." He said it firmly, but in fact he was also scared in his heart. Since he took over the Huai'anzhai antique store left behind by his father last month, the business has been so bleak that he can't even close the deal. He really doesn't want to miss this deal.
