Tòumíng stared at the ceiling, his mind already spiraling into increasingly elaborate schemes. "What if I just... bought a mine?"
"Bought a mine," Cupid repeated flatly.
"Yeah! Like, an actual mining operation. Then I could mine whenever I wanted, take whatever I found, no bosses, no Zhāng Wěi taking ninety percent of everything valuable. Just me and my system grinding 24/7."
"Do you have any idea how much a functional mine costs?"
"I don't know... a lot?"
"Millions of yuan. Tens of millions for anything worth operating. Plus operational costs, equipment, permits, workers if you can't do it all yourself, safety compliance, environmental regulations—"
"Okay, okay, bad idea." Tòumíng waved his hand dismissively. "But what if... what if I bought like ten acres of land out in the countryside? Somewhere remote. Use my Ore Sense to find a spot with gems underneath, buy that specific property, and then just mine it myself?"
"That could never work."
"Why not? I've got almost two hundred thousand yuan. Land in rural areas is cheap. I could probably afford a decent plot, and with Ore Sense I'd know exactly where to dig. It's perfect!"
Cupid was quiet for a moment, which Tòumíng took as consideration. Then: "Article 3 of the Mineral Resources Law of the People's Republic of China, revised 2019. Quote: 'Mineral resources belong to the State. The State shall have ownership of mineral resources. The rights of exploring and mining mineral resources are exercised by the State Council on behalf of the State.'"
"What does that mean in normal person language?"
"It means you don't own what's under your land. The government does."
"But I bought the land!"
"You bought the surface rights. Not the mineral rights. Those belong to the state automatically." Cupid's tone took on a lecturing quality, clearly reading from something. "Article 39: 'Any mineral resources discovered in the course of land development and construction activities must be reported to the relevant authorities. Unauthorized extraction constitutes illegal mining and is subject to criminal prosecution.'"
"That's bullshit!"
"That's Chinese law. You can buy residential or agricultural land, but any minerals discovered on that land, regardless of who owns the surface property, are considered state property. You'd have to apply for mining permits, go through regulatory review, environmental assessments, pay extraction fees, and even then you'd only get a percentage of what you find."
Tòumíng groaned. "So even if I found a massive gem deposit on land I legally purchased, I couldn't just take it?"
"Correct. You'd have to report it, wait for government approval, probably get the land rezoned or seized under eminent domain, and watch while state-owned mining operations extracted everything while you got a small finder's fee if you're lucky."
"You're a party pooper."
"I'm a realist who can read legal code."
"Same thing!" Tòumíng threw a pillow at the wall in frustration. "This system is rigged! What's the point of having Ore Sense if I can't even use it to get rich legally?"
"You literally made two hundred thousand yuan illegally in two weeks."
"That's different!"
"How?"
"It just is! This feels more unfair!"
They bickered back and forth for another ten minutes, Cupid citing additional legal statutes while Tòumíng insisted there had to be loopholes, until finally Tòumíng gave up and went back to doom scrolling, his dreams of land ownership and legal mining operations thoroughly crushed.
Longkou abandoned factory..
Across the city, in a warehouse that hadn't seen legitimate business in at least a decade, five men sat around a metal table covered in empty beer bottles and playing cards. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the particular tension that came from people who were armed and bored in equal measure.
"I'm telling you, she was worth every yuan," one of them was saying, gesturing enthusiastically with a beer bottle. "The stripper from last week? The one with the—" He made exaggerated hand gestures. "Gang bang was legendary. Cheng almost had a heart attack."
The others laughed, cigarettes dangling from lips, slouched in chairs that had definitely been stolen from somewhere nicer.
"We should pool money and do it again next month," another suggested. "Make it a regular thing."
"If we have money next month. Boss has been tight with payouts lately."
"Boss is always tight with—"
The warehouse door opened.
Not kicked open dramatically. Not slammed. Just... opened. Smoothly. Quietly. Like someone who had every right to be there.
Everyone's hands went to their waistbands where guns were tucked. The conversation died immediately.
A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim streetlights outside. Gas mask covered the entire face not a cheap dust mask, but a proper military-grade respirator with dark lenses that hid the eyes completely. Pure black hoodie, hood pulled up. Baggy black jeans. Black gloves. Everything designed to eliminate identifying features.
The figure walked in without hesitation, footsteps echoing in the warehouse space.
"Who the fuck are you?" The nearest gang member stood up, hand still on his gun. "How'd you get this address?"
The masked figure didn't respond. Just kept walking toward their table with measured, unhurried steps.
"Hey! I asked you a question!" Another gang member stood, pulling his gun halfway out. "You lost or something?"
"He's a cop," the third one hissed. "Gotta be. Nobody else walks in here like that."
They surrounded the intruder, or tried to. The masked figure stopped about three meters from the table, hands visible and empty at their sides, seemingly unconcerned about being outnumbered five to one.
"Let's frisk him," the first gang member said, moving closer. "See what he's—"
The masked figure's hand moved faster than any of them could track. Gun appeared from inside the hoodie a proper handgun, not some cheap knockoff and leveled at the closest man's head in a single fluid motion.
Everyone froze.
"Listen," the figure said. The voice was distorted through the gas mask, mechanically altered, impossible to identify as male or female. "I'm not here for trouble. I'm here with information."
"Information," one of them repeated stupidly.
"I keep tabs on everything pawned in this city. Every shop, every dealer, every fence." The gun didn't waver, held with the casual confidence of someone who'd used it before. "A kid has been finding rare gems. High-quality stuff. Sold two pieces in two weeks."
The gang members exchanged glances. One of them, bolder or stupider than the others, spoke up. "So what? Lucky find. Why's that noteworthy?"
"Because it happened in a two-week span," the masked figure—Ghost Claw, though they didn't know that yet replied. "Nobody gets that lucky twice in fourteen days unless they have a reliable source. Either he has a supplier, or he's found a location with exceptional deposits."
"Still don't see why we care."
Ghost Claw holstered the gun in one smooth motion, then reached into the hoodie again. This time pulling out a black duffel bag. Tossed it onto the table where it landed with a heavy thunk.
One of the gang members unzipped it, eyes going wide.
Cash. Stacks and stacks of hundred-yuan bills, rubber-banded in bundles of ten thousand. Twenty stacks total.
Two hundred thousand yuan.
"Find this kid," Ghost Claw said. "Tail him. I want to know where he's getting the gems. Don't approach him, don't spook him, just observe and report. You get half now." A gloved hand gestured to the bag. "Half when you deliver useful intel."
"Four hundred thousand total?" The gang member holding the bag looked up. "For tailing one kid?"
"For finding my source. The kid's just the lead." Ghost Claw pulled out a phone, showed them a photo on the screen Tòumíng's face, clearly captured from security footage at one of the pawn shops. "His name is Tòumíng. Works at the Longhua mining complex. Lives at 401 Prefecture Zing Residence, ground floor unit 11A. Recently came into money. You'll know him when you see him looks like he got in a fight with a coal processor."
The gang members studied the photo, committing the face to memory.
"And if we find the source?" one of them asked carefully. "What happens to the kid?"
"Not your concern. Your job is surveillance only. Find where he mines, report the location, collect your money."
Ghost Claw turned to leave, then paused at the door. "One more thing. He might have connections. Be careful. I want information, not a gang war."
Then the figure was gone, disappearing into the night as smoothly as they'd arrived.
The five gang members sat in silence for a long moment, staring at two hundred thousand yuan in cash and a photo of a coal-stained teenager.
"Well," one of them finally said. "Guess we're not doing that stripper thing next month. We got work."