In the Yongding Gate of Beijing in the 26th year of Guangxu's reign, the lead-gray haze was sinking along the texture of the alleys. Chen Sanxian squatted on the threshold of the ruined temple, rubbing the cracks on the copper pipe pot with his fingertips, his eyes fixed on the red lacquer door of the pawnshop opposite.
"Mr. Chen, do you really want to be a part of it?" Gouzi, the follower, held up his sleeves and the tip of his nose was red from the cold. "This is a gold-touching talisman passed down from your great-grandfather. It is more valuable than your lifeblood."
