The antique district sat tucked away behind a row of modern storefronts, the kind of place easy to miss unless someone already knew exactly where to look.
Wang Chengli parked outside a narrow shop with faded gold lettering above the door, the paint chipped enough to suggest decades of business rather than years.
"This is the place." Wang Chengli killed the engine. "The owner's been dealing in Song dynasty pieces longer than I've been alive, or close to it."
Guiying stepped out, studying the storefront with mild skepticism. "It doesn't look like much."
"The best ones rarely do." Wang Chengli led the way inside, a small bell chiming overhead as the door swung open.
Dust motes hung visible in the shafts of afternoon light filtering through the windows, illuminating shelf after shelf of ceramics, some displayed under glass, others simply sitting exposed, trusted to the care of whoever walked past them.
