1: Chapter 1 Unemployment Blow

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Let us follow in the footsteps of Hu Tian and embark on this legendary global treasure-hunting journey together.

Binhai City.

This dazzling pearl on China's eastern coast is not only an international financial center but also a massive arena for fame and fortune.

Here, countless neon lights flicker madly against glass curtain walls, and the roar of the subway carries with it infinite opportunities and dreams.

This is a brutal battlefield where every young person is willing to burn their youth to fight for a place of their own.

When the afterglow of the setting sun dyes the cold glass curtain walls a tragic, brilliant crimson, the city welcomes its most exhausted moment—the evening rush hour.

Tens of millions of soul-emptied workers instantly merge into a gray torrent.

In the overcrowded subway cars and stagnant traffic, they are no longer independent individuals with names and dreams, but a massive colony of ants ruthlessly driven by time.

Dragging legs that feel like lead, carrying the exhaustion wrung out by work, they merge into murky streams of people, struggling to surge through the veins of the city's roads.

On the main thoroughfare, traffic is completely paralyzed.

The red taillights form a desperate river of blood, winding for kilometers, with no end in sight and no hope to be seen.

At every intersection, the dense crowd waits for the traffic lights to change like sardines in a can; a sea of heads, hundreds strong, suffocatingly oppressive.

The subway station entrances are even more crowded; office workers getting off work, students rushing to finish tasks, and exhausted laborers mix together, forming turbulent streams of pushing and shoving, everyone looking ashen-faced.

The Tang Dynasty poet Luo Yin once wrote in "Self-Indulgence": "Towering high-rises lock away the mist and clouds; in the mundane grind, my temples have turned gray. Suddenly freed from the cage, my body feels like a leaf; in the slanted sun of the old alley, I watch the fading flowers."

Linhai East Road.

The traffic here is completely deadlocked; various private cars, taxis, and buses are connected bumper to bumper, like a stiff, dead snake, unable to move an inch.

One could see cars moving forward bit by bit like snails.

Piercing honks rise and fall; the drivers in their seats are restless, occasionally poking their heads out to look forward, only to see the back of the heads of equally anxious drivers ahead, and that endless sea of red taillights.

The perspective continues to advance, finally locking onto a BZD118 bus.

The bus is trapped at the core of the traffic flow, straddling two zebra crossings; the vehicle body leans slightly due to overloading, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

There are simply too many passengers inside the bus, so many that one wonders if this tin box can withstand it.

Inside the bus, it is a suffocating scene of people pressed against people, flesh squeezed against flesh.

The passengers are tightly packed together, everyone's personal space compressed to the limit, making even breathing difficult.

The air is filled with the stench of sweat, the lingering smell of breakfast, cheap perfume, and all sorts of indescribable mixed odors, which is sickening.

In a corner at the back of the bus, a young man grips a rusty handrail tightly, his body swaying helplessly with the bus's start-stop motion, like a withered leaf drifting in the wind.

His name is Hu Tian, and he is twenty-four years old. He is the most typical "corporate slave" worker in this city.

He is wearing a shirt that has been washed to a pale white, the collar loose and deformed, with slight grease stains on the cuffs, which are casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing his thin forearms.

His cheap dress pants are full of wrinkles, wrapped around his legs like pickled vegetables, and the leather shoes on his feet have long lost their luster, covered in a layer of dusty gray.

His face is written with deep exhaustion and loss, his eye bags slightly swollen, his gaze hollow and numb, staring fixedly at the slow-moving street scene outside the bus window, as if his soul had already left his body.

Just at the last moment before getting off work today, he was ruthlessly called into the office by the company's Human Resources department.

The reason is ridiculously simple and cruelly real: the intern brother of the boss's new girlfriend urgently needs a formal position as a sales representative to "gain experience."

And Hu Tian, a sales representative who has just worked for a full year, with mediocre performance and no background, naturally became the most suitable sacrifice, pushed onto the altar without hesitation.

"The company is adjusting its business and needs to optimize its personnel structure."

The HR manager is a middle-aged woman wearing thick-rimmed glasses. She speaks nicely, her tone flat, as if this were a well-considered and wise decision for the company's long-term development.

In reality, Hu Tian knows it like the back of his hand.

The rumor had already spread among colleagues in the company this morning; this is just to make room for the boss's future brother-in-law.

He is that piece of trash being cleaned out.

According to labor laws, the company "generously" compensated him with one month's salary.

After deducting various taxes and social security, he ended up with 3,814.2 yuan.

Yes, accurate down to the "mao."

Hu Tian lets out a bitter, cold laugh in his heart.

How long can this money last in a city like Binhai, which is like a money-devouring beast?

The single room he rents in the urban village costs 1,500 a month, and the rent is due in five days.

The landlord's life-demanding WeChat messages seem to still be echoing in his ears.

Counting necessary expenses like food and transportation, the 470 yuan left in his bank card probably wouldn't even cover the fraction of next quarter's rent.

"Screech—!"

The bus moved forward a few more meters, then suddenly braked hard.

Hu Tian, who was lost in thought, lost his footing, lost his balance, and slammed heavily into a middle-aged uncle standing next to him.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!"

Hu Tian quickly apologized in a low voice, his tone revealing his humbleness.

The man let out a cold snort of disgust, not even turning his head to look at him, just carefully scooting his body to the side, as if Hu Tian were carrying some infectious germs.

Hu Tian gripped the cold handrail tightly, his knuckles turning white, and an indescribable sourness and sorrow surged in his heart.

Thinking that he is only twenty-four and has already been severely defeated by reality.

That spirit of a newborn calf not fearing the tiger has long been smoothed away by life, leaving only a shell that accepts whatever comes its way.

Just one year after graduating from college, he has already changed three jobs.

None of them lasted long, and each one ended inexplicably.

Either the company suddenly went bankrupt and ran away, or like today, he was laid off for some inexplicable reason, becoming cannon fodder in a power struggle.

He couldn't help but vent crazily in his heart: Everyone says young people should strive, but where exactly is the opportunity to strive?

In this huge city, just the three words "survive" have exhausted all his energy and courage.

A girlfriend?

Heh, he hasn't even held hands.

At an age where even survival is a problem, love is just a luxury among luxuries.

Watching the hurrying, expressionless passersby outside the bus window, Hu Tian suddenly felt himself to be very small, as small as a speck of dust, which could be casually stepped on by anyone and crushed into the mud.

This city is too big, so big that it can easily swallow a person's dreams without leaving even an echo.

This city is also too cold, so cold that one cannot find a trace of warmth, only the endless, bone-chilling wind.

"Antique East Street is here! Passengers getting off, please move to the back door, don't push! Get off one by one. Passengers getting on, enter through the front door..."

The driver's rough and impatient voice sounded abruptly, breaking the deathly silence inside the bus.

The dispirited Hu Tian looked up blankly at the window; it was indeed Antique East Street.

He is very familiar with this street; he used to pass by here every day on his way to and from work, but he always walked in a hurry, never having the thought of stopping for even a moment.

At that time, his eyes only saw the punch-in clock and his pay stub.

Today, having been fired, he actually has some rare "leisure time," along with this sense of loneliness that has nowhere to settle.

He squeezed with difficulty through the crowded crowd from the back of the bus, like a slippery fish, and followed the flow of people off the bus.

His feet stepped back onto the solid ground, but it felt somewhat floating.

Antique Street is a famous antique and second-hand goods trading market in Binhai City. It is said that there are hidden talents here, and gold is everywhere.

He lives nearby and often hears myths of people getting rich overnight, but more often he hears tragedies of people losing everything.

One could see all kinds of antique shops lining both sides of the street, with antique-style signboards swaying in the wind.

The display windows were filled with blue and white porcelain, jade, calligraphy, paintings, and other items, glowing with a mysterious and alluring luster under the sunset's afterglow.

The crowd on the street was still considerable; there were middle-aged businessmen dressed elegantly holding folding fans, collectors wearing glasses with focused expressions, and of course, ordinary workers like Hu Tian, perhaps holding a mindset of trying their luck, or perhaps just coming to stroll around to find a trace of psychological comfort.

Hu Tian walked aimlessly on the street, his steps heavy.

He subconsciously scanned the stalls on the side of the road, but his gaze did not have much focus.

Most of these stalls were street stalls set up in front of shop entrances, with various "antiques" and brightly colored modern imitations piled up in a disorganized manner.

Hu Tian is a layman and couldn't tell the difference at all; he just thought they were colorful and quite nice to look at.

Just as he was about to continue walking forward dejectedly, his peripheral vision suddenly caught an inconspicuous stall on the side of the road.

It was a very ordinary street stall, with a dirty old cloth spread on the ground, on which were placed a dozen items of different sizes: chipped porcelain bowls, rusty copper coins, dull jade pendants, etc., all looking dusty and inconspicuous, as if they were trash abandoned by the world.

Before Hu Tian could look away, the stall owner keenly noticed him.

He was a fat man in his forties, his whole person like over-fermented dough.

His face was round like a full moon, his features almost squeezed together, especially those small eyes, which narrowed into an almost invisible slit when he smiled, revealing a shrewd calculation.

He was wearing a tight Tang suit, the buttons seemingly ready to pop open at any moment, revealing his white belly inside.

His fat body sat on a folding stool like a mountain of flesh, steadily blocking half of the stall.

The fat man looked at Hu Tian, the corners of his mouth hooking into a smile that seemed warm but was actually cunning. That smile hid the slickness and treachery of a businessman, as if he had already seen through the embarrassment in Hu Tian's pocket, and was waiting for a lamb to be slaughtered to come to his door voluntarily.