"You did well yesterday," Lin Xiao Tong said, placing a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of Chen Wei. They were back in the small tea room behind the shop's main counter. "You've graduated from theory to practice. Which means it's time to stop being reactive and start being proactive."
Chen Wei looked at her, the memory of the greasy, foul energy of the Greed Imp still fresh in his mind. "Proactive about what? Are we going after Hu Meilan?" The name still tasted like fear on his tongue.
"No," Xiao Tong said firmly, shaking her head. "Don't be an idiot. You don't go after a tiger with a pocketknife. You go after a tiger with a map of its territory, a detailed understanding of its habits, and a very, very big gun. Right now, we have none of those things. We start with the map."
'A map,' Chen Wei thought. The analyst in him latched onto the word. It was a concept he understood. Data. Intelligence. It transformed the problem from an insurmountable monster into a project with defined variables. It didn't make the tiger less deadly, but it made the fear manageable, channeling it into a clear objective.
"The Sect has records on Greater Yao, of course," Xiao Tong continued, "but accessing them would raise all sorts of red flags. My grandfather would know I was up to something, and he'd lock me in the temple for a month to 'meditate on my impulsiveness.' We need a different source. An unofficial one."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "There are things, and beings, that exist in the cracks between the factions. They don't belong to the Sects or the Yao Clans. They trade in the one currency that's valuable to everyone: information. And the best information broker for this part of the city isn't a person. He's a ghost."
An hour later, they were navigating the labyrinthine alleys of the Dongtai Road Antique Market. This place was older, dustier, and felt more authentic. Stalls were piled high with old furniture, yellowed books, and tarnished silver. The air was thick with the smell of old wood, dust, and camphor.
To Chen Wei's heightened senses, the market was a cacophony of echoes. Every object hummed with a history, a faint trace of the Rén Qì of its previous owners. He could feel the faint joy from a set of porcelain teacups that had seen a thousand family gatherings, and the quiet despair clinging to a worn wooden abacus that had calculated a merchant's ruin. It was overwhelming, a library of ghosts whispering all at once.
"How do we find him?" Chen Wei asked, trying to shield his mind from the sensory onslaught.
"We don't," Xiao Tong said, her eyes scanning the stalls. "He finds us. He's drawn to purpose. Just try to look like you're looking for something you're not supposed to find."
They stopped at a stall filled with old, leather-bound books. Xiao Tong picked one up, pretending to inspect it. Chen Wei tried to look casual, but he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. The ambient temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
"Ah, a young master and a miss from the righteous path! What rare treasures bring you to this humble place of dust and memory?"
The voice was thin and raspy, like dry leaves skittering across pavement. It came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Chen Wei spun around, but saw no one. Xiao Tong didn't even flinch.
A figure began to coalesce from the shadows between two tall wardrobes. It was translucent, shimmering at the edges like a heat haze. It took the form of a man in the attire of a Qing Dynasty merchant—a silk magua jacket over a long robe, and a small, round cap on his head. His face was shrewd, with narrow, calculating eyes and a thin mustache. This was "Qian Lao Gui"—Old Man Qian the Ghost.
"This one is new," the ghost rasped, his form flickering as his gaze fell on Chen Wei. "He shines so brightly. Full of modern qi... electricity and ambition. A premium-grade soul. Very valuable."
Chen Wei felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ghost's presence. "I'm not for sale."
"Everything is for sale, young master, for the right price!" Qian Lao Gui chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. He turned his attention to Xiao Tong, his form solidifying slightly. "Miss Lin. It has been a while. Your last purchase, the information on the rogue water spirit, was it to your satisfaction?"
"It was accurate, Qian," Xiao Tong said, her voice all business. "Which is why we're here again. We need information on a Greater Yao."
The ghost's eyes narrowed, the shimmer around him intensifying. "A Greater Yao? That is not cheap merchandise, Miss Lin. That is premium, top-shelf intelligence. The risk factor alone... the price will be steep."
"We're aware," Xiao Tong said. "We need to know about the Húli Jīng who frequents the old French Concession. The one they call Hu Meilan."
At the mention of the name, Qian Lao Gui visibly recoiled. His translucent form flickered wildly for a moment, and the temperature dropped another few degrees.
"The Crimson Fox?" he hissed. "You ask me about her? Are you trying to get this old one dispersed? She does not like to be discussed. To even know of her is to be in her debt."
"That's why we came to you. You know how to stay off her radar," Xiao Tong countered smoothly. "We need to know her habits. Her residence. Her weaknesses, if any."
Qian Lao Gui stroked his thin, ghostly mustache, his eyes darting between them. "Weaknesses? A Yao of her age has no weaknesses, only preferences. And the information you seek... it will cost you dearly. Your usual payment of spirit money will not suffice."
"What do you want?"
The ghost's eyes gleamed with an ethereal avarice. "In your shop, on the northern wall, third shelf from the top. There is a small, three-legged toad cast from meteorite iron. It has absorbed the Zhèng Qì of your family's righteous practice for three generations. It is a potent tool for stabilizing a spirit form. I want that."
Xiao Tong's face hardened. Chen Wei could feel a protective, angry spike of energy from her.
"Absolutely not," she snapped. "That is a legacy item of my family. It protects my shop."
"A fair price for a fair trade!" Qian Lao Gui cackled. "Information that could save your lives, for an item that will ensure my existence. It seems a perfectly balanced transaction to this humble merchant."
They were at an impasse. Chen Wei could feel Xiao Tong's frustration. He knew she wouldn't make that trade. He watched the ghost, this creature of pure, calculating opportunism. He wasn't a monster like Hu Meilan. He was a businessman. And every businessman has a bottom line.
An idea sparked in Chen Wei's mind, born of his unique perception. He stepped forward.
"Mr. Qian," he said, his voice calm. "That toad is a 'capital asset,' correct? It's valuable because it's a stable, long-term source of energy for you."
The ghost looked at him, surprised. "A... capital asset? Yes, an excellent term, young master! Precisely!"
"What if we could offer you not a one-time capital payment, but a recurring revenue stream?" Chen Wei continued, falling back on the language he knew best. "Something less potent, perhaps, but more sustainable, with lower acquisition cost and risk."
He pointed to a string of prayer beads on Xiao Tong's wrist. "These beads are consecrated, but their energy is finite. But my... associate here... she can recharge them. And I," he took a risk, "I can channel a specific type of energy. The pure, orderly energy of the city's power grid. We could create a custom-charged artifact for you. A 'battery' that we could replenish for you once a month, in exchange for your continued cooperation. A retainer."
Qian Lao Gui's ghostly form stopped flickering. He stared at Chen Wei, his shrewd eyes wide with a strange mix of disbelief and intense interest. A rechargeable artifact, powered by the very city he haunted? It was an entirely new business model.
"A... retainer?" the ghost repeated, tasting the foreign word. "Recurring revenue... fascinating. This is a most... modern proposal."
Xiao Tong looked at Chen Wei, her eyes wide with surprise, then a grudging respect. He had just negotiated with a Qing Dynasty ghost using 21st-century business terminology.
"The terms are negotiable, of course," Chen Wei pressed. "Our first payment will be one fully charged artifact. In exchange, we want everything you know about Hu Meilan's current residence and habits."
Qian Lao Gui floated silently for a long moment, the gears of a centuries-old mind grinding on a brand-new concept. Finally, a slow, raspy chuckle escaped him.
"Very well, young master," the ghost said, a ghostly contract sealed. "You have a deal. Meet me here in three days with your... 'battery.' And I will give you the address to the tiger's den."