Chapter 3: Digging for Gold - Gao Ju's Confusion

“May the almighty God of Transmigration bless us. May the Time-Space Administration Bureau approve our actions. Amen.”

With a final, muttered prayer, Wen Desi shouldered his assault pack and stepped through the shimmering wormhole. Xiao Zishan and Wang Luobin followed close behind.

Wen Desi, an avid hiker, had a full complement of camping gear at home. He chose to travel light, however, bringing only quick-dry clothing, a survival kit, a multi-tool, and a pack to carry the wormhole’s exit.

He’d considered bringing his steel crossbow and hunting knife, but quickly dismissed the idea. Three city-dwelling nerds, he reasoned, would be no match for the hardened men of the Ming Dynasty. Besides, the wormhole was their ultimate escape plan. If things went south, they could simply open it and vanish. As a precaution, he did bring three stab-proof vests, a few smoke bombs, and some stun guns—just in case they needed to create a diversion.

Xiao Zishan, lacking any such equipment, had visited a military surplus store and purchased a set of training clothes, a pair of high-top Jiefang boots, and a replica military backpack. Wang Luobin wore his usual work clothes. They each carried two days’ worth of compressed biscuits, a few bottles of water, and a small first-aid kit. The goal was to minimize their reliance on the wormhole and avoid unnecessary exposure.

Xiao Zishan’s hoard of promotional items was a diverse lot. At first, they’d planned to bring only glass cups and plastic powder boxes, but then decided to bring a wider variety. They had no idea what the aesthetic tastes of the Ming people were, so a broad sampling seemed prudent.

After pinpointing the location of Haopan Street on an old map, Xiao Zishan rented a room in a nearby budget hotel. For several nights, Wen Desi would cautiously open the wormhole, using a newly acquired pair of infrared night vision goggles to scout the other side. Haopan Street was a bustling commercial district; a randomly opened portal could land them in someone’s bedroom or on a crowded street. It was a gamble.

His observations revealed what appeared to be the deserted backyard of a large mansion, lined with rows of gray brick and tile houses. After dark, it was completely still.

They had no idea what to expect. The plan was to find a secluded spot, wait for dawn, and then approach a local shopkeeper with their wares.

How the 17th-century locals would react to three strangely dressed men was anyone’s guess. They might be shunned, or they might draw a curious crowd. Then there was the language barrier. Chief Wen was optimistic, arguing that Cantonese had preserved many elements of ancient Chinese, but it was still a major concern.

They chose to cross at 5 a.m., the beginning of the mao hour in ancient times. Any earlier, and it would still be dark. The Ming and Qing dynasties didn’t have a strict curfew, but the streets were empty at night, and an encounter with a night watchman or a patrolling yamen runner would be disastrous. Any later, and the streets would be filled with people, increasing the risk of their arrival being witnessed. Three men appearing out of thin air would cause a city-wide sensation.

For the past few nights, Master Gao Ju had been sleeping poorly. The dogs in the warehouse yard behind his mansion had been barking incessantly. His guards had investigated several times but found nothing. The warehouse was a fortress, with high walls and a network of side courtyards and alleys. Even a master thief would have trouble getting in.

Then the rumors started. A strange light, some said, would appear in the courtyard in the middle of the night. A wave of fear swept through the Gao residence. By day, things were normal, but as night fell, the warehouse became a place to be avoided. The celestial phenomena had been strange as well, with nightly thunderstorms that brought no rain, only an eerie purple glow to the sky. Master Gao’s mood soured, and he lost all interest in his favorite concubine.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of ghosts. The warehouse was his lifeblood. Like every other merchant on Haopan Street, he’d made his fortune trading with foreigners. He had invested everything—all the goods and silver from his last deal with the Franks—in raw silk, satin, and porcelain, all highly sought after by the foreign traders. He’d also stockpiled a large quantity of saltpeter and ironware, items whose export was strictly forbidden by the imperial court. If anything went wrong, he would be ruined. And it wasn’t just his life on the line. Half of his enterprise belonged to Eunuch Yang, a powerful figure in the palace. While not as influential as the infamous “Nine-Thousand-Year-Old,” Eunuch Yang could still have his entire family exterminated with a flick of his wrist.

Tonight, however, the dogs were quiet. Master Gao slept soundly, alone in his inner study. He rose just after the fifth watch. A maidservant attended to him as he brushed his teeth with green salt and washed his face. He was gazing at the dimly lit sky, contemplating the weather and a possible morning stroll, when a fresh chorus of frantic barking erupted from the backyard.

His good mood vanished. He slammed his cup down, about to summon a servant, when the head of his household guard came tumbling into the courtyard. Master Gao’s face paled. This was the inner study, off-limits to male servants without a summons. For the head guard to burst in like this, something was terribly wrong.

“Master, Master, the warehouse yard… in the yard… there are… there are…”

“What’s the rush? Speak slowly.” Years of smuggling had taught Master Gao to remain calm in the face of danger. He took a deep breath and composed himself.

“The backyard, the backyard, three Japanese have come!”

Japanese. Master Gao was momentarily relieved. As long as they were men, they could be dealt with. “A few Japanese have you this scared?” he scoffed. “Tie them up and lock them in the woodshed.” He waved a dismissive hand, his mind already racing.

Could they be from Boss Wang on Youyu Island? Had a foreign ship arrived? The Franks often employed Japanese servants, but it wasn’t the right season for their ships. And Boss Wang, his partner, would never send men over without warning, let alone have them sneak into his backyard.

“Master, these Japanese… they’re strange!” the head guard stammered. “We didn’t dare to act rashly.”

“Useless!” Master Gao fumed, a flicker of fear returning. He’d heard tales of the ferocious Japanese pirates who had plagued the coast in his grandfather’s time. The very reason Haopan Street was now enclosed within the city walls was because of them. For three men to sneak into his backyard undetected… he remembered a sea merchant telling him about a class of Japanese warriors skilled in stealth and assassination…

The thought terrified him. The idea of a swift capture faded. “Where are they now?” he demanded.

“We have them surrounded in the backyard with bows and muskets,” the head guard said, eyeing his master’s face. “They don’t seem to have any ill intentions…”

“Bastard! If they had no ill intentions, what were they doing in my backyard? Buying soy sauce?”

“Master, they have no weapons. Their leader threw this to us.” The head guard produced a small box from his tunic. “He said a lot of things, but I couldn’t understand him.”

Master Gao took the paper box, his curiosity piqued. It was impossibly smooth, as if glazed, yet the rough edges told him it was paper.

Strange, he thought. He opened the box to find a small, oval-shaped container. The material was neither jade nor porcelain, yet it had the same glossy finish as the box. It was a vibrant pink, a color he’d never seen on ceramics, and it was surprisingly light. Master Gao was a man of the world, but he had no idea what it was made of. It resembled a woman’s powder box. He lifted the lid, which opened with a clamshell-like hinge. Inside, a bright, shining surface caught his eye. He peered closer, and the color drained from his face.