[Year 18 of the Great Xia Dynasty. Black Bone City.]
The wind howled like a dying wolf, carrying the copper scent of blood and rotting flesh across the city walls.
Jiang Li stood on the crumbling battlements, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword so chipped it resembled a saw. Her armor, once a gleaming silver, was now a dull grey, caked with layers of dried mud and black blood.
Below the wall, the world was an ocean of torches.
Three hundred thousand barbarian soldiers. Their tents stretched to the horizon, a cage of fire surrounding the last stronghold of the Xia Dynasty.
"General," a hoarse voice rasped behind her.
Jiang Li did not turn. Her eyes, red-rimmed and dry, remained fixed on the enemy camp. "Report, Lieutenant Zhao."
"The last warhorse... died an hour ago," Zhao whispered. He was a burly man, but now his armor hung loosely on his skeletal frame. "The cooks are boiling the leather saddles. It... it will be ready in moments."
Jiang Li closed her eyes. Leather soup. That was their last meal.
For three months, Black Bone City had been under siege. The Emperor had abandoned them. The reinforcements never came. Ten thousand defenders had dwindled to three thousand starving ghosts.
There was no food. No water. No hope.
"Tell the men to eat," Jiang Li said, her voice cracking like dry parchment. "At dawn, we open the gates."
Zhao's breath hitched. "General?"
"We will not die of hunger in our beds," Jiang Li said softly. She turned, her face gaunt but her eyes burning with a terrifying light. "We will charge. We will take as many of them with us as we can. We will die as soldiers of Xia."
Zhao fell to his knees, tears carving tracks through the grime on his face. "Yes, General!"
He stumbled away to deliver the death sentence.
Jiang Li remained alone. Her legs trembled—not from fear, but from weakness. She hadn't eaten in four days. She had given her rations to the wounded.
She slowly walked down the stone steps toward the center of the city. There, in the ruins of the Governor's manor, stood the ancestral hall.
The roof had collapsed long ago, but the stone altar remained. On it sat a single object that the looters had ignored: a large, ugly bronze vase. It was tarnished, covered in verdigris, and cracked near the rim.
It was the heirloom of the Jiang family. Legend said it was a gift from the Heavens, but in eighteen generations, it had never done anything but collect dust.
Jiang Li fell to her knees before the altar. The stone bit into her bruised skin.
She pulled a jade pendant from her neck. It was white mutton-fat jade, carved with a phoenix. It was the only thing of value she had left—her mother's dowry.
She placed the pendant next to the ugly vase.
"Ancestors," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I have failed. I could not hold the city."
The wind whistled through the ruins.
"I do not ask for victory. That is impossible," she choked out, bowing her head until her forehead touched the cold ground. "I do not ask for my life. Take it."
Tears finally spilled, hot and stinging.
"I only ask... if any God is listening... please. Give my soldiers one full meal. Just one meal, so they do not have to die as starving ghosts. Please."
She stayed bowed, waiting for a sign.
Silence.
Just the wind.
Jiang Li let out a bitter laugh. Of course. The Gods had abandoned this city long ago.
She wiped her face, preparing to stand up and march to her death.
[The Year 2026. A Warehouse in the suburbs.]
Lu Chen sat on a plastic crate, staring at the bucket of KFC on the floor. He wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans and let out a long sigh.
"Man, my eyes were bigger than my stomach," he muttered, rubbing his belly.
He had ordered the 12-piece Family Bucket as a stress-eating coping mechanism, but he had only managed to eat half. Six large, extra-crispy drumsticks and thighs still sat in the bucket, getting cold.
He looked around the cavernous warehouse. It was filled with pallets of expired canned beans, cheap bottled water, and camping gear that his grandfather had hoarded before he died.
"Inheritance," Lu Chen scoffed. "Thanks, Grandpa. You left me a pile of junk and a ten million dollar debt."
He looked at the ugly bronze vase in the corner. His grandfather had insisted it was a priceless antique, but three appraisers had called it "junk metal." Lu Chen had been using it as a trash can for candy wrappers.
"Well, I can't keep this here. It'll attract rats," Lu Chen muttered.
He picked up the half-full bucket of chicken.
"Sorry, Colonel Sanders. Into the trash you go."
He stood up and tossed the entire bucket—cardboard, chicken, and grease—towards the bronze vase.
"Kobe!"
The bucket sailed through the air. It arced perfectly towards the vase.
It crossed the rim.
Lu Chen waited for the thud of the bucket hitting the bottom.
...
Silence.
Lu Chen frowned. "Did I miss?"
He walked over to the vase and peered inside.
It was empty.
"What the hell?" He scratched his head. "I saw it go in."
He reached his hand in, feeling around the bottom. Nothing. Just cold metal and dust.
"Great. Now I'm hallucinating. Stress is finally cracking my brain."
He turned to walk away.
[Black Bone City.]
Thump.
A heavy, dull sound echoed from the altar.
Jiang Li froze. She looked up.
Inside the bronze vase, where there had been nothing a moment ago, a strange object had appeared.
It was a cylindrical vessel made of paper, white and red, painted with the face of a smiling old man with a white beard.
And the smell.
A thick, oily, impossibly rich scent exploded into the air. It smelled like... spices? Salt? Fat?
Jiang Li's stomach gave a violent, painful lurch.
She crawled forward, her hands trembling. She peered into the paper vessel.
Inside lay six large pieces of golden-skinned meat. Steam was rising from them.
Jiang Li reached in. The heat radiated against her cold fingers. She grasped a drumstick. It was hot. Real.
"What is this?" she whispered.
She looked up at the grey, empty sky. Then back at the golden object in her hand.
She took a bite.
Crunch.
The crispy skin shattered. Hot, salty grease flooded her mouth. The meat inside was tender, juicy, and white.
Jiang Li's eyes widened. She dropped to her knees, chewed frantically, and swallowed.
The taste was overwhelming. It was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. It tasted like life itself.
"The Golden Phoenix..." she gasped, tears streaming down her face again. "The Gods... the Gods have answered!"
She grabbed the bucket, hugging it to her chest as if it were the Imperial Seal itself.
"Lieutenant Zhao!" she screamed, her voice returning with the strength of the fed. "Zhao! Come here! The Heavens have sent a feast!"
[The Warehouse.]
Clink.
A sharp, clear sound rang out from the vase behind Lu Chen.
Lu Chen spun around. "What now?"
He walked back to the vase.
Lying at the bottom, where there had been nothing a second ago, was a small, white object.
Lu Chen blinked. He reached in and picked it up.
It was cool to the touch. Heavy. Smooth as oil.
He held it up to the fluorescent warehouse light.
It was a pendant. Carved from white jade that seemed to glow from within. The carving was exquisite—a phoenix rising from flames. Even Lu Chen, who knew nothing about art, could tell this wasn't glass or plastic.
There was a dark, reddish stain on one corner. Dried blood.
Lu Chen stared at the jade, then at the empty space where his chicken bucket used to be.
"Did... did the vase just trade me a bucket of leftovers for a piece of Imperial Jade?"
He rushed to his desk, grabbed a magnifying glass, and looked at the pendant again. The craftsmanship was impossible. No machine made this.
His heart started to hammer against his ribs.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Let's test this."
He looked at the pallets of unsold inventory around him. Then he grabbed a sealed bottle of mineral water from his desk.
He walked back to the vase.
"Hey... vase ghost?" he said, feeling stupid. "If you liked the chicken... you're probably thirsty too."
He dropped the plastic bottle into the vase.
It didn't hit the bottom. It vanished into thin air the moment it passed the rim.
Lu Chen held his breath, waiting.
...
Nothing came back out immediately.
But the water bottle was definitely gone. And in his hand, he held a piece of jade that was likely worth more than his entire warehouse.
Lu Chen looked at the mountains of unsold water, rice, and canned food filling his warehouse—supplies that were rotting because he couldn't find a buyer.
He looked back at the vase, gripping the jade pendant tight.
A slow, terrified, exhilarating grin spread across his face.
"I think... I think I just found my customer."