Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1170: Soul as the Gun, Life as the Bullet—When the Bullets Run Out, One Perishes

It was a strange feeling… when Luo Qiu faced this new customer.

He was clearly and consciously aware that he probably wasn’t in the right state to meet guests these past few days—but he had almost instantly returned to his former demeanor—or rather, he had been bestowed with it.

Because of that clarity and awareness, Luo Qiu didn’t feel any discomfort. On the contrary, it felt natural—as it should be. That’s why he found it strange, rather than unsettling.

His integration with the club far exceeded what he had estimated for himself… As he looked at the customer in front of him, an inexplicable sense of comfort gradually took over, making him feel like this place was his ultimate home.

In that moment, the change in the Boss did not go unnoticed by Da Zhe.

As the Black Soul Envoy—practically an extension of the Boss himself—his perception of the Boss was naturally strong… and if even he could sense it, then there was no need to mention Miss Maid.

Da Zhe saw something he hadn’t seen on Miss Maid’s face since last night—a beautiful smile.

Suddenly, Da Zhe frowned slightly. It may have been a reflex, an instinct. Even he couldn’t tell why.

…

The new guest wasn’t like the typical first-timers who often came in flustered—this one was calm and composed, his expression at ease. He gave off the impression of either being a returning customer or someone with supernatural power.But in reality, this new guest was as ordinary as they come. He had no trace of extraordinary power, nor was he a regular… He was simply someone with a cold temperament.

Gray eyes.

Boss Luo looked into his eyes. Though the irises were the common black, what came to mind was a shade of gray—like black paint mixed forcibly with too much white.

After hearing Miss Maid explain the rules of the club, the new guest fell into silence. From the start until then, he had only asked three questions:

—"Where is this?"

—"Why am I here?"

—"Who are you?"

…

“Mr. Chen Mingming, do you still have any questions?” Boss Luo was the first to speak—the guest’s name was Chen Mingming.

Though Chen hadn’t introduced himself, the Boss addressed him directly by name.

Chen merely glanced up in surprise. Finally relaxing, he began to observe his surroundings for the first time.

On the shelves were all sorts of oddities; behind the counter, a diverse selection of aged spirits; in the corner, an old-fashioned phonograph and a grandfather clock.

“Do you know why I was named Mingming?” He suddenly looked at the Boss, expression blank. His lips moved as if splitting his face into two parts—the top half still, the bottom animated.

Luo Qiu gently shook his head… because he figured Chen probably wanted to say it himself.

“When they gave me this name, they wanted me to live clearly and honestly. To be clear in life, in actions, in everything.”

“They?” the Boss asked.

“Who else would have the right to name a child?” Chen replied calmly.

Luo Qiu nodded slightly. Returning to the topic, he smiled faintly. “Then, Mr. Chen, now that you know the rules… have you decided what you'd like to purchase?”

“A gun. Give me a gun,” Chen said directly, “one that can kill anyone.”

His request stirred Da Zhe, but as this was not a mission to find clients—and the client was already at the Boss’s desk—Black Soul Envoy had no say in this final step.

Boss Luo shifted slightly in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. His eyes landed on a bit of tattoo peeking out from Chen’s collar—a partial design, unclear in meaning.

“Do you have someone you wish to kill, Mr. Chen?” the Boss asked gently after a long pause.

Chen shook his head, his gaze still gray. “No. I just want to be prepared—to have a way, just in case.”

Boss Luo nodded. “We sell everything here, Mr. Chen—but there’s always a price. Based on our assessment, you fall under the range of an ordinary person. This place, however, deals in the extraordinary… A gun that can kill anyone? We can offer it, but you can’t afford it.”

“That sounds fair.” Chen didn’t seem disappointed, only nodded as if it made perfect sense. “Then how about a gun that can kill anyone I am capable of killing?”

“In theory, even ordinary people can kill extraordinary ones under specific conditions,” Boss Luo smiled. “Don’t you think your definition is still a bit too broad?”

Chen paused, ready to respond, but the Boss spoke first. “I can recommend a firearm that should suit your needs…”

As he spoke, the Boss opened his hand. A silver handgun began materializing, starting from the grip, inch by inch… The silver hue faded once it was fully formed, becoming dull and matte.

Boss Luo set the gun on the table and explained slowly, “This gun isn’t complete yet. It requires your soul to become whole. And it doesn’t use conventional bullets—it only fires bullets made from your life.”

“Bullets… made from my life?” Chen finally reacted slightly.

Boss Luo spoke calmly, “We understand that, if one truly wants to kill someone—assuming both parties are close in strength—given time and effort, a chance will always arise. Time kills. Do you deny this, Mr. Chen?”

Chen shook his head faintly.

“Then use your time as bullets—to kill those you say you have the power to kill.”

“How will I know how much time one bullet costs?”

“The gun will tell you when the time comes.”

“What’s the price?”

“When you can no longer supply bullets, we will reclaim the gun… and your soul. What do you think?”

“When the bullets run out, I perish,” Chen said flatly.

Boss Luo smiled. “In theory, as long as you never fire a single shot, your life will end naturally.”

After a long silence under the Boss’s gaze and Miss Maid’s watchful eyes, Chen slowly picked up the silver gun from the table.

He said nothing more as he turned and left.

Da Zhe frowned, stepped over to Luo Qiu, and muttered, “Boss, this guy… seems dangerous. Aren’t you worried about giving him that gun?”

“The customer buys what they ask for,” Luo Qiu replied calmly. “Isn’t that how it’s always been?”

Da Zhe opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing. He simply nodded and stepped back—if the Boss had no objections, he had no grounds to protest.

The will of the master must not be defied… that rule had been etched into his soul since becoming a Black Soul Envoy.

Miss Maid began tidying the table. “Master, earlier you said you wanted to do something?”

Luo Qiu shook his head. “I was going to visit the third altar… but suddenly, I no longer feel like it. I think I’d rather have your cooking for dinner.”

“I’ll get started right away.”

Miss Maid smiled as she left, her steps light and cheerful.

…

A car slowly pulled into the residential parking lot. After stopping, Zhou Yusheng didn’t get out immediately but remained alone in the driver’s seat.

He reclined his seat and lay back with his eyes closed… leaving the engine running.

It was about half an hour before Zhou Yusheng finally got out of the car.

He suddenly recalled what Ma Houde had said, and instinctively sniffed his own clothes… There was indeed a rather unpleasant odor—how long had it been since he last showered?

“Officer Zhou, you're back?”

In the underground garage, a middle-aged man had just come out of the elevator. He looked like he was heading out by car—most likely one of Zhou Yusheng’s neighbors, given the enthusiastic greeting.

“Mm.” Zhou Yusheng nodded.

He remembered the neighbor’s name, face, and even some past conversations… but facing such warmth, Zhou Yusheng found himself oddly unaccustomed to it.

He quickly extricated himself from the small talk and made his way briskly home. After opening the door—

“I’m back…”

Zhou Yusheng shook his head, closed the door, tossed his keys casually onto the cabinet near the entrance, and didn’t bother to change his shoes. He walked straight into the living room and sat on the sofa.

Perhaps because he hadn’t been home in a long time… as soon as he sat, a cloud of dust rose from the fabric cushions.

He turned on the TV at random—just in time for the evening news.

“We interrupt this program with a special bulletin. This morning, a shocking murder occurred in a self-built house on Longhua Road in our city…”

Zhou Yusheng didn’t listen further. He turned off the TV.

Suddenly, he remembered the goldfish he kept at home—he hadn’t fed them, and the water hadn’t been changed in a long while. He hurried to the tank and found that the once lively arowana had already flipped belly-up, floating lifelessly.

He quickly reached in to scoop out the dead fish, only to realize too late that he hadn’t rolled up his sleeves. He pulled his hand back.

The cuffs were unusually difficult to unbutton today. After fumbling with them for a bit, he gave up and simply leaned both arms on the edge of the tank, letting his wrists soak in the water.

Suddenly, Zhou Yusheng pushed the fish tank over with a loud crash.

Glass shattered. Water splashed across the floor, soaking him. The arowana didn’t move—it simply lay on the ground, lifeless.

Zhou Yusheng squatted down and just stared. He kept staring… until, finally, he stood up abruptly, grabbed cleaning tools, swept up the broken glass and dead fish, and wiped the water off the floor.

Then, looking at the now even more dismal state of his home, he tossed the mop aside… and stood there, staring at the ticking wall clock.

After a while, Zhou Yusheng lightly tapped his forehead, wiped his face, then turned, grabbed his keys, and walked out. He went straight to the garage and drove off.

…

The place Zhou Yusheng drove to was a fairly upscale residential area.

He parked by a two-story villa near an artificial lake in the neighborhood and rang the doorbell. Not long after, the gate opened, and a refined man walked out.

Seeing Zhou Yusheng, the man looked surprised. “Yusheng?”

Zhou Yusheng looked at him and let out a sigh. “Captain Gao… Can I come in and sit for a while? My head hurts.”

Captain Gao—Gao Wen—opened his mouth, then nodded. “Come in.”

Gao Wen led Zhou Yusheng to his study and had him sit in a lounge chair. He pulled over another chair and sat beside him.

“Yusheng, didn’t you say your headaches stopped months ago? Why the sudden recurrence?” Gao Wen frowned.

Zhou Yusheng lay back, lightly knocking his fist on his forehead. “I don’t know either… Captain Gao, can you give me more of that medication you gave last time?”

Gao Wen replied, “That was just regular sleeping pills. I only wanted you to rest more, not treat the headache… Are you having nightmares again?”

Zhou Yusheng shook his head. “No.”

Gao Wen said, “Then I think you’re just overly fatigued. When I saw you this morning, you looked like you were about to collapse. Yusheng, what you need isn’t medicine or my therapy. You just need proper rest.”

Zhou Yusheng gave a bitter smile. “I almost got into a fight with Ma Houde today. He told me to go home and rest… Rest? Other people go home to relax—when I go home, it’s just suffering… What’s the point.”

Gao Wen patted his shoulder. “I don’t recommend more pills, but a little wine might help. Red wine aids sleep. Someone just gave me a nice bottle. My wife’s out these days anyway, and I’m bored—how about sharing a few glasses with me?”

“Sounds good.” Zhou Yusheng’s tense expression finally relaxed.

As Gao Wen began uncorking and airing the wine at the small bar in his study, Zhou Yusheng suddenly asked, “By the way, how’s Mingming been lately?”

“If you care about your son, why don’t you go see him yourself?” Gao Wen shook his head. “I’m just his teacher, not his father.”

Zhou Yusheng shook his head. “Skip the red wine. Give me something stronger…”

(End of Chapter)