Qin Mi's fingertips turned white in front of the counter of the antique shop. When Yin Nanfeng turned around, his windbreaker rolled up and he said that the wedding matter, which was due at 100,000 yuan per month, must be kept secret. The rhythm of her high heels tapping the ground was as cold as a bell. He stood there and watched the back lengthen in the light and shadow. Traveling through March and falling into the world of stolen pens, he became the cheap husband of Yin Nanfeng, the leader of the Crescent Hotel. The old agreement between the Qin family and the Yin family is now only a transaction. He looked down at his empty left ring finger, where there should have been a wedding ring but not even a ring mark was left. Someone stopped at the street corner and looked at him through the window for three breaths, then lowered his head and put out his cigarette butt in the crack of the bricks. The string of copper coins hanging on the man's waist swayed in the afternoon light, and Qin Mi recognized the weaving method of the Five Emperors' coins - the craftsmanship of Lao Jiumen.
