“Oh my little ancestor, what are you trying to do this late at night!” Tang Yuan was awakened in the middle of the night by the little white snake’s torment.

He didn’t dare not wake up—the little white snake’s cold body wound tightly around his neck, using an extremely crude and simple method to wake him up.

Tang Yuan smacked his lips, savoring the fried chicken leg he had just taken a bite of in his dream. He touched his empty stomach and felt very hungry—so hungry he could swallow a whole fried chicken! He crawled to the bedside and lifted the curtains, glanced at the sky, then muttered in a low voice: “It’s only the third quarter of the chou hour, not even two o’clock yet! What are you waking me up for!”

He turned back to look for the little white snake, only to discover it had already crawled out of the bedroom. He had no choice but to suppress his complaints, yawning as he followed it out of the bedroom, only to find it had stopped at the front door. It straightened its upper body and glanced at him with great composure, presenting a domineering stance of “This palace wishes to go out, quickly open the door for this palace.”

Tang Yuan knew the little white snake wouldn’t go crazy in the middle of the night for no reason. He resignedly found a jacket, took the keys and small wallet from the shoe cabinet, and didn’t forget to leave a note for the doctor. The excuse he wrote was that he woke up hungry in the middle of the night and went out to buy a late-night snack.

Of course, he wouldn’t mind making this excuse come true.

Tang Yuan pinched the small wallet in his pocket, thinking that in the middle of the night, there was a 24-hour KFC at the street corner—perfect for buying some fried chicken… The thought was actually quite exciting!

While debating whether to buy Orleans grilled wings or popcorn chicken, Tang Yuan discovered the little white snake had already darted out like a flash. Frightened, he quickly tiptoed into his shoes, closed the door properly, and followed. But after leaving the building, the little white snake wasn’t going toward KFC at all. Tang Yuan stamped his foot in annoyance and had no choice but to chase after it. Oh well, he’d just buy something on the way back.

Two o’clock in the morning was the quietest time of the day. Tang Yuan was used to walking mountain paths, so he wasn’t afraid of walking at night. Moreover, in his view, all the streetlights here were on, illuminating everything clearly. Compared to the pitch-black mountain forests, this was practically no different from daytime—what was there to fear?

Just because he thought this way didn’t mean others did.

In the middle of the night, a half-grown child in white clothes jogging through the streets—anyone who glimpsed his figure broke out in a cold sweat, thinking they had seen something unclean, and quickly turned their heads and quickened their pace.

Tang Yuan didn’t notice this oddity either. It was normal for pedestrians to walk quickly at night—who didn’t want to get home early? Tang Yuan ran until he was sweating. His stamina was good, so if even he was sweating from running, it must have been at least half an hour. He looked resentfully at the little white snake still tirelessly gliding ahead, and finally couldn’t help complaining: “My little ancestor, where exactly are you going? If it’s too far, you should have said so earlier—wouldn’t taking a taxi be faster?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the little white snake darted back in the opposite direction and dove into his arms, firmly coiling around Tang Yuan’s wrist.

Before Tang Yuan could ask what was wrong, he heard someone behind him call out to stop him.

“Child, why aren’t you sleeping and wandering the streets in the middle of the night? Where are your parents?”

Tang Yuan turned around to see a rather familiar young man frowning at him with a disapproving expression. Beside him was an uncle with a walking stick, also very familiar. Weren’t these the current shopkeeper of Mute House and the museum curator?

How coincidental to bump into these two? Tang Yuan couldn’t help reaching into his sleeve to pinch the little white snake’s vital spot. This little ancestor really knew how to cause trouble—how was he supposed to answer now? Say he couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night so came out for a jog? Even ghosts wouldn’t believe that!

“Well, child, how far is your home from here?” The curator uncle tapped his walking stick, trying to put on a kind expression, though under the night streetlights, his features appeared dark and shadowy, making him look even more frightening.

Tang Yuan shivered, unwilling to lie, and mumbled with his head down: “I’ve been out for over half an hour already.”

“Looks like he’s lost. Let’s take him to the nearby police station first.”

The young man touched Tang Yuan’s head and took his hand, only to find it ice-cold, so he enclosed it in his own palm to warm it.

Tang Yuan was startled by this action because this person had almost touched the little white snake—fortunately it was just almost… This person seemed to be called Lu Zigang, sharing the same name as that Ming Dynasty jade carving master.

“There’s no time for that. How about we just bring this child along and send him back after we’re done browsing? Hmph! Careless parents these days deserve to worry!” The curator said domineeringly, leaning on his walking stick.

Lu Zigang hesitated for a moment, knowing time was urgent. He crouched down and smiled as he asked Tang Yuan: “Little brother, what’s your name?”

“Uncle, my name is Tang Yuan.” Tang Yuan firmly corrected his form of address.

Lu Zigang’s smile stiffened slightly. He coughed lightly to cover his embarrassment before saying: “Tang Yuan, it’s too dangerous for you to walk the streets alone like this. Come with us to browse a market first, then I’ll take you home, okay?”

Tang Yuan felt the little white snake on his wrist sweep him twice with its tail. He intuited that where the little white snake wanted to go was probably the same destination as these two people. Tang Yuan rolled his eyes, reluctantly nodded, and didn’t forget to add a condition: “I want to eat popcorn chicken.”

“This brat probably ran out just to eat popcorn chicken, didn’t he?” Upon hearing this, the curator couldn’t help but blow his beard and glare, unceremoniously striking Tang Yuan’s leg with his walking stick. “Alright, you little rascal, this remote area doesn’t have fancy stores like KFC. First accompany this old man to browse the market, then I’ll buy it for you later. Eat, eat, eat! All you know is eating!”

Tang Yuan rubbed the spot on his leg where he’d been hit. The curator hadn’t used force, so it didn’t hurt, but Tang Yuan felt he was definitely being blamed by association—it seemed the curator’s family also had a disobedient brat.

Seeing Lu Zigang leading him forward, Tang Yuan obediently looked up curiously and asked: “Uncle, where are we going? Where is there a market? It’s not even dawn yet!”

“You can call me Uncle Lu.” Being called uncle made him feel quite dejected, suddenly feeling he’d aged several more years. Lu Zigang pressed his temples and patiently explained while walking: “We’re going to a market that sells antiques.”

“Liar! How could antiques be sold in the middle of the night? Didn’t they say you shouldn’t judge colors under lamplight?” Tang Yuan immediately couldn’t help retorting. If he weren’t certain of these two people’s identities, he would have suspected they were human traffickers by now.

“Ho ho! You little rascal actually know about not judging colors under lamplight?” The curator perked up immediately, slowing his pace to walk beside Tang Yuan, looking down at him with interest. “Who taught you this saying?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.” Tang Yuan wouldn’t be so easily drawn into conversation, staring with big eyes, not allowing the curator to change the subject.

“Cough, actually, this kind of market that sets up stalls to sell antiques before dawn is a traditional ancient market that’s been passed down. Originally it was because selling old items couldn’t be done in daylight—problems would be spotted during the day. So this kind of market has another name, called… ghost… market.” The curator deliberately drew out his voice and spoke eerily, trying to scare Tang Yuan.

But Tang Yuan had a starry-eyed expression, looking up and pressing: “Ghost market? That sounds pretty cool, though it’s not like there are actual ghosts selling things… That was originally, but what about now? Since everyone knows the antiques being sold are problematic, why still come before dawn to buy?”

“The antique market is undergoing demolition recently, so some shops have set up stalls directly on site. Since city management is around during the day, they can only hold the market during this time period.” Lu Zigang explained, really unable to stand the curator deceiving a child.

“Tch, that reason really isn’t cool at all…” Tang Yuan pouted in disappointment.

“Want a cooler reason?” The curator stroked his beard and chuckled: “There really are some shady reasons. Some unearthed burial objects are sold here. Since they can’t be traded during the day, in the darkest time of day, both parties exchange money and goods without being able to see each other’s faces clearly—that’s safer.”

“Really?!” Tang Yuan stared with big eyes, actually believing this explanation somewhat.

“Cough, of course it’s mostly made up.” Lu Zigang quickly explained. “Most of it is fake. Many people buy counterfeits here, but even knowing they might be cheated, people still come to treasure hunt. It’s like knowing lottery odds are low, but people still buy them year after year.” Tang Yuan drooped his little head in disappointment again.

“Actually, this kind of market has another name!” The curator obviously had experience dealing with children and immediately became mysterious again.

“Ah? Is it cooler than the name ‘ghost market’?” Tang Yuan raised an eyebrow without much hope.

The curator smiled mysteriously but stopped walking, adjusting his glasses and straightening up to look ahead.

Only then did Tang Yuan realize that while chatting, they had reached their destination.

Before him, he could vaguely make out an ancient alley. Along both sides of the broken walls were various stalls, each with an electric lamp or kerosene lamp beside it. Points of light wound through the alley, extending sparsely into the distance.

In the flickering light, he could dimly see bustling activity inside with many figures moving about. At first glance, it looked like they had suddenly broken through a crack in spacetime and entered another world.

“This kind of ghost market usually appears on ruins and completely disappears at dawn, returning to the original ruins. So it has a very vivid nickname—Dawn Market.”

“…That really is cool.” Such a cool place naturally had to be explored since they were here. Moreover, his little ancestor had dragged him out in the middle of the night just to visit this Dawn Market. Tang Yuan followed Lu Zigang and the curator into the ghost market with great interest, looking around curiously.

Since these were unlicensed stalls, they sold everything. Tang Yuan saw many strange and unusual items, from ancient Hongshan and Liangzhu jade to modern watches, glasses, and antique cameras—truly everything imaginable, dazzling to the eye.

No one spoke loudly; they all communicated in low voices or gestured with their hands. The entire market looked full of shadowy figures yet was eerily quiet. Combined with the dark night and flickering lights, it sent chills down one’s spine.

The curator, however, looked completely in his element. He first casually glanced left and right, seemingly unimpressed with these street stall goods, then slowly walked forward leaning on his walking stick.

Tang Yuan noticed the curator wasn’t actually looking at the antiques on the stalls but at the stall owners themselves. He was clearly a regular who often visited ghost markets, knowing which vendors had genuine items and which were just there for show.

The little white snake on his wrist showed no movement, so Tang Yuan quietly let Lu Zigang hold his hand and leisurely followed behind the curator. But after a short while, the curator’s steps suddenly stopped. He stared in a certain direction, dazed for a moment, as if he’d seen someone he recognized.

Lu Zigang followed his gaze but only saw people coming and going, still trying to identify which was the acquaintance the curator had spotted, when the curator beside him suddenly moved like lightning, heading in that direction with his walking stick. He moved so fast that Lu Zigang didn’t even react, and since he had to look after Tang Yuan, they got separated in a few blinks.

Lu Zigang tried to find the curator’s figure in the crowd but gave up after a while. Since everyone was dressed similarly in dark coats, it was impossible to tell who was who in the night. But getting separated wasn’t scary—they both had phones and could contact each other if needed. Lu Zigang was more afraid of Tang Yuan getting lost, so he gripped the boy’s small hand tightly.

This made it impossible for Tang Yuan to walk faster according to the little white snake’s directions. With no other choice, Tang Yuan could only follow Lu Zigang step by step, skillfully guiding him toward the stall the little white snake wanted to find.

Lu Zigang also stopped and started frequently. For someone who had previously worked at the National Museum, the items on these stalls couldn’t attract even half his attention. Not to mention many “antiques” that looked laughably fake to him. A supposedly unique rhinoceros horn cup had an identical twin at a nearby stall. A supposedly family heirloom enamel jewelry box looked very similar to a popular item on Taobao. And supposedly old-mine jadeite was obviously chemically treated Grade C goods.

If the curator hadn’t insisted on dragging him here, Lu Zigang would never have sacrificed sleep time to travel all this way. Maybe the curator had familiar stalls with good items, but unfortunately they’d gotten separated.