Fortune 015: The Array Master

The incense in the burner slowly burned itself out. Nan Shi took a long, deep breath, then gently pushed the censer forward. On the wooden table, the incense burner made a faint scraping sound. “Professor Zhou, please.”

They had just spent some time chatting and exchanging names. This Mr. Zhou carried a natural air of credibility when he spoke. Nan Shi asked a few questions and soon learned that he was, in fact, a university professor.

A few more questions revealed the kicker: he was from Nan Shi’s own alma mater. Although Nan Shi had graduated three or four years ago, rules dictated that he still respectfully address him as “Professor.” However, Nan Shi had been from the art department, while Professor Zhou belonged to the history department, so Nan Shi had never taken any of his classes; he had only heard the name in passing.

For his part, Professor Zhou hadn’t expected the young shop owner before him to be a former student of his own university either. He shook his head, lamenting his bad luck—after all, since they both belonged to the same school, one could almost consider Nan Shi his student. He had hoped to snag a bargain, but for the sake of his “student,” he would have to forget about that.

Although bargain-hunting wasn’t exactly “cheating” in the antiques business, it was never good for one’s reputation if word got out.

In any case, he didn’t really need the money. If he truly took a liking to the piece later, he could simply buy it at its proper price.

Professor Zhou pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and put them on. He even carried his own magnifying glass. Witnessing this made Nan Shi feel somewhat ashamed—as the proprietor of an antiques shop, the last time he’d used a magnifying glass was two months ago, and its main purpose had been threading a needle to mend a pair of worn-out flip-flops.

The just-finished golden sandalwood had turned into an ashen-white “longevity” character inside the burner. The burner itself was warm but not hot to the touch. Professor Zhou inspected the still-distinct character and nodded in approval. “Young Nan, this is fine craftsmanship.”

Nan Shi smiled shyly.

Professor Zhou examined the burner from every angle for a good while. Old Wang also leaned in, finally managing to find the magnifying glass Nan Shi had fished out. He shook his head and said, “I can’t make much of it. Old Zhou, what do you say?”

“I’d say it’s a straightforward piece,” Professor Zhou replied, flipping the censer lid over and running his fingertip over a patch of rust. “But the condition’s poor. It’s heavily oxidized.”

He looked at Nan Shi and asked, “Nan, have you considered having this censer restored?”

Nan Shi shook his head. “I liked it precisely because of the beautiful rust spots.”

“Here…” He pointed to a cloud-shaped patch of rust on the censer’s side. “It looks just like a flaming sunset. I was smitten the moment I saw it.”

At that, Professor Zhou turned the censer for a closer look. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he exclaimed, “You’re right—if you hadn’t pointed it out, I would never have noticed.”

Old Wang, prompted by Nan Shi, also saw what he meant. “It really does have a certain charm.”

“That’s all it took for you to buy it?” Professor Zhou couldn’t help but ask.

Nan Shi spoke languidly, “I always choose what I buy on a whim. If I find it pleasing to the eye, that’s enough for me.”

“Step back and look—it’s even prettier from a distance,” Nan Shi added.

“Still,” Professor Zhou insisted, “the piece is badly damaged. If you have it restored, there might be something special yet to be revealed. Nan, if you’re interested, I can take care of it for you, free of charge… I’m certain you’ve found yourself a true gem here. The only question is: what kind?”

Nan Shi absently stroked the ancient jade pendant hanging beside his chest. The green silk cord threaded through his fingers like a stream of clear water. He truly liked this censer, but if he had it restored—regardless of success—the rust patch would certainly disappear.

But compared to the weight of debt, what did a censer matter?

Lost in thought, he noticed Professor Zhou watching him intently, waiting for his decision.

After just a couple of breaths, Nan Shi nodded and broke into a smile. “I’ll leave it to you, Professor Zhou.”

He was a man of action. Without delay, he pulled a wooden packing box from beneath the table, lined thickly with cotton and velvet. Not even a minute passed before he had packed the censer neatly, even tying the string into an intricate Chinese knot. He passed the box to Professor Zhou.

Professor Zhou chuckled at Nan Shi’s efficiency. “Boss Nan, aren’t you afraid I might take your treasure and never come back?”

Nan Shi replied without a hint of hesitation, “It’s just a piece worth a hundred yuan. Is it really worth the risk?”

He thought to himself that if Professor Zhou really did run off with his property, he’d have the courage to curse him with sleep paralysis every night.

Professor Zhou stood and patted Nan Shi on the shoulder. “Young people these days really have guts! You’re from the arts department, right? Have you thought about pursuing graduate studies? In the antiques business, a dash of historical knowledge goes a long way. My specialization is the Yong dynasty, and I happen to have a spot open under me. If you apply, I’ll give you a nudge—make things easier for you.”

Nan Shi was rendered speechless. If he’d been asked this before meeting Chi You, he’d probably have agreed on the spot. But now, he feared Chi You would have him hanging upside down—he hadn’t even begun to master the true disciplines, and here he was thinking of taking up history?

Besides, the house was full of ancient ghosts, most of them from the very era of Yong, living history books in themselves. What need had he to study? If a question arose, grabbing any random servant would prove more enlightening than a modern-day professor.

“Thank you. I’ll think about it,” Nan Shi answered, weighing his words.

In the adult world, “I’ll think about it” was a polite refusal. Professor Zhou got the message, shrugged, and didn’t take offense. “Very well.”

With that, they parted ways. After seeing his guest out, Nan Shi stretched his back and paced the room a couple of times. He was getting on in years—just sitting upright for a while made his lower back ache, and moving about brought some relief.

He had barely finished two laps when a customer walked in, and he had no choice but to serve them. Business was exceptionally good that day; a steady stream of customers kept him busy all day. It wasn’t until a customer complained that their favorite bracelet design was out of stock that he realized what had happened. Opening the drawer, he saw that every bracelet he’d ordered had been sold out.

Huh? Was cheap jewelry really this popular?

He had ordered three hundred bracelets! And they’d sold out in just a few days?

Once the customer left, Nan Shi returned to the business of ordering supplies. After putting in an order for five hundred more bracelets, he even began considering a trip to Yiwu to find other novel trinkets—perhaps even some high-end stock, authentic and beautiful, yet still affordable.

The higher-end the merchandise, the deeper the water. If you relied solely on photos and videos sent via phone without an on-site visit, you risked financial ruin.

He’d need a couple of knowledgeable associates. Otherwise, as a novice, he might as well tattoo “Gullible, Rich, Come Get Me” on his forehead.

To that end, Nan Shi thought of a roommate who specialized in jade carving. He could ask when he was free for a trip. Of course, he wouldn’t ask for help for nothing—a fair payment was in order.

It was getting late. Remembering that Qing He wanted him home early, Nan Shi gave up the idea of ordering takeaway, tidied up, locked up the shop, and headed home.

---

“Young master,” Steward Zhou greeted Nan Shi with a beaming smile.

Steward Zhou was a busy man, overseeing the entire household operation. Idle types like Nan Shi rarely saw him, and, truth be told, Nan Shi preferred it that way.

Perhaps because he had returned early, the setting sun gave the Steward’s face a warm, lively glow, making him seem less intimidating than usual. “Steward Zhou, what brings you here, asking me to meet the newcomer?”

“Please, I can’t accept your ‘sir.’ I’m just an old servant. If the master heard you call me that, he’d take offense,” Steward Zhou replied, though it was clear that compared to Qing He and the others, he was much closer to Chi You in attitude.

It was said that Steward Zhou had served as Chi You’s pageboy as a child and, once grown, took over the household’s external affairs. He was considered the master’s right hand.

“The thing is, young master, you let an outsider into your room yesterday. The master didn’t say anything, but behind the scenes, he was livid,” Steward Zhou explained. “I’ve been making inquiries these past days, looking for a suitable array master, but didn’t expect an outsider would make it in first.”

“I see…” Nan Shi was even more confused. What did they need with an array master? And why bring him, who knew nothing at all about it?

Steward Zhou made an inviting gesture, bidding Nan Shi to enter. He then followed a step behind.

Contrary to Nan Shi’s mental image of a white-bearded Taoist or other elderly figure, the person in the room was a bespectacled, plaid-shirted young man with a hint of roundness to his frame. When Nan Shi and the Steward entered, the young man stood and extended his hand to Nan Shi. “Hello, I’m Zhang He.”

“Hello, I’m Nan Shi.” Nan Shi shook his hand, still rather bewildered. As soon as they sat down, Zhang He began talking a mile a minute: “I’m the chief engineer of the security department at XXX Network Company, thirty-four, unmarried, no children, registered in S City. Previously worked in B City, with twelve years of professional experience. I’ve fended off XX, YY… and other internationally renowned hacker attacks…”

He reeled off a list of impressive credentials. Nan Shi glanced at him, then at Steward Zhou. “…What’s going on?”

The Steward’s eyes crinkled in delight. “Abilities like this are hard to come by. I spent several days keeping watch for Master Zhang, and it took quite a bit of persuasive argument with the Black and White Impermanence before I managed to secure him.”

“What?” Nan Shi looked at Zhang He, perplexed.

Zhang He heaved a resigned sigh. “That’s right. I only died yesterday—sudden death. Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Zhou chatting with the Black and White Impermanence… um, negotiating, then he brought me to interview here.”

In fact, as the Black and White Impermanence tried to tempt him with offers that his lifelong idol, Mr. XX—the number one hacker of the Rabbit dynasty—was waiting below to tackle technical challenges with him, and “The Underworld will offer you an annual salary of thirty million spirit coins!” Steward Zhou, on the other hand, was promising “No endless shifts below—we offer alternating days off, no overtime, a Chinese-style luxury courtyard, with food delivery service, and life just like the living,” so he happily chose to go with Steward Zhou.

The Black and White Impermanence had wailed in protest, touting things like “The Underworld has Apple Generation 200 and smart AI hologram games,” but really, isn’t it more comforting to pick what’s familiar?

Compared to the unknowns of the afterlife, the human world was still the happier choice!

Honestly, it was all a bit surreal. Who would’ve thought he’d have to keep grinding away, even in death?

When Zhang He saw Nan Shi—someone his own age, dressed in modern clothes—he was relieved: at least this should be an easy conversation.

Nan Shi listened and nodded empathetically. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” Zhang He nodded. “Might I ask what it is your household requires of me?”

Nan Shi turned to Steward Zhou, who replied with a smile, “It’s nothing difficult. We need Master Zhang to help us set up a… firewall, that’s it, so outsiders can’t just hack their way in; it wouldn’t do to let strangers barge about the house.”

“If you accept, Master Zhang, you’ll be responsible for the house’s network from now on—any related equipment will be under your full control. As for compensation, we can’t match the underworld’s offer, but we’ll give you this much…” Steward Zhou signaled a number. “Full room and board, plus a cash salary for your living expenses in the mortal world.”

“We’ll also handle your social insurance and housing fund contract and take care of all relevant certificates for your stay in the underworld—guaranteeing your life here is every bit as comfortable as when you were alive.”

Steward Zhou proudly showed off some newly learned modern lingo. “Put simply, you’ll install network cables, fix computers, tablets, and phones, install operating systems, and build a firewall for our network.”

Nan Shi immediately gave Zhang He a look of sympathy; Zhang He seemed on the verge of collapse. Nan Shi quickly said, “I can install the network cables myself! I know how to fix phones, computers, and tablets—just the firewall would be enough from you, Mr. Zhang!”

Wouldn’t assigning system admin duties to a programmer make anyone want to bash their own head in?

Zhang He said with a long-suffering sigh, “…It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

He had spent plenty of time fixing things for friends and relatives anyway.

Compared to a job with no overtime, he was willing to be the sysadmin! He really was!