Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1245: Big Pig Hoof

Xiamen, Wanwan Snack Street.

Vendors shouted loudly, drawing in waves of people. The mingling scent of fried food filled the air so thickly that it seemed almost greasy.

At a seafood porridge stall, steam rose in clouds—then slowly thinned and drifted away. Higher up, in an old apartment above the stall, a hand suddenly slapped against the windowpane.

The hand trembled, clawed at the glass, then scraped downwards inch by inch. The cheerful clamor of the snack street outside completely drowned out the faint sounds from within the small apartment.

In the living room, Gong Fanxing sat lazily, watching the thing called a “television.”

Not long after, a man came out of the bedroom. Seeing him, Gong Fanxing immediately stretched her fiery, graceful body, grabbed some tissues, and offered them to the man.

He took them and wiped his lips—Song Kuangyin.

Gong Fanxing glanced into the bedroom and saw a shriveled corpse collapsed by the window, its death hideous. She frowned slightly and waved her hand—the corpse instantly crumbled to ash and scattered on the floor.

Song Kuangyin stood near the balcony, hands clasped behind his back, as thick, blood-red mist coiled around him. A moment later, it all flowed back into his body.

When he turned around, his appearance had grown a little younger.“Congratulations, Honored One,” Gong Fanxing said softly.

Song Kuangyin replied coolly, “A thousand years have passed. Most of my descendants’ bloodlines have become impure, useless even. In these days, I’ve found nine descendants with faint traces of my blood—yet they’ve provided me with less than two years of lifespan. What is there to congratulate?”

Gong Fanxing sighed helplessly. “Honored One, that Qin Chuyu keeps hounding us relentlessly. Ever since we left Mount Tai, she’s been chasing us like a vengeful spirit. It’s hard to make any big moves to find your remaining descendants.”

Song Kuangyin knew it was true. Both he and Gong Fanxing had fought Qin Chuyu several times—not counting the one on Mount Tai. In every subsequent battle, Qin Chuyu’s strength had grown.

Their last encounter had been just three days ago. Gong Fanxing had even suffered a small loss.

“That seductive fox… I didn’t expect her swordsmanship talent to be so terrifying.”

Gong Fanxing’s tone held jealousy. “The first time I fought her, I could suppress her easily. But ever since she obtained Taibai’s Green Lotus Sword Song, her mastery of the Green Lotus Sword Canon has advanced at a shocking pace. Each time, she escapes unharmed.”

“She’s probably using us as her practice targets,” Song Kuangyin said coldly.

Gong Fanxing sighed. “The Huan Zhen Dao cultivation method is terrifying—it avoids the cycle of reincarnation, forcing each life to remain in the mortal world and cultivate across multiple existences. Now that the world’s spiritual energy has revived, that fox has surely benefited greatly. This is her golden stage of growth. The next time we meet, she’ll be even stronger. If we don’t get rid of her soon, she may ruin your future plans… Honored One, why not seize Song Haoran’s bloodline directly? With that boy’s talent, you could recover your full power. Then, Qin Chuyu would be no threat at all.”

Song Kuangyin gave her a cold glance. “She’s after you, not me. She only wants information about Taibai. What does that have to do with me?”

Gong Fanxing lowered her gaze. She knew too well—royalty had no warmth. And this man, who could devour his own descendants for the sake of longevity, was utterly ruthless.

“I need Song Haoran for the Dragon Strife,” Song Kuangyin said icily. “As long as his destiny isn’t fulfilled, I won’t touch him. You’d best remember that.”

“Yes, Honored One,” Gong Fanxing replied sweetly.

Song Kuangyin continued, “From now on, we’ll separate. Lure that woman away. I’m going to the capital.”

“The capital?” Gong Fanxing frowned.

Song Kuangyin said calmly, “According to what I learned from the Zhao family’s descendants, there’s a Zhao clan in the capital that claims to be the rightful line of my Zhao family. I plan to see for myself. After you draw Qin Chuyu away—or kill her—come to the capital to find me.”

No sooner had he spoken than both of them froze slightly—they could sense a fierce, familiar sword intent trembling in the air.

Gong Fanxing’s face darkened. She nodded at Song Kuangyin, having no time to lament being used as bait. With her soul bound to him, disobedience meant death.

“Honored One, take care,” she said.

Then she stepped out, leapt to the rooftop, and laughed into the night sky. “Fox girl! If you’ve got guts, come find me where no one will interrupt us—let’s settle this properly!”

She shot toward the coastline, and the sword intent in the air immediately followed.

Song Kuangyin looked down at the bustling street below and muttered, “Zhao family from the capital… let’s hope you don’t disappoint me.”

---

“Huh? He’s already leaving?”

Auntie Ren had come home earlier than usual today—being the editor-in-chief now gave her more freedom.

“He should be boarding by now.”

Auntie Ren tilted her head, then shrugged. “That blockhead really is a blockhead. Always so simple-minded… Ah well, let him go.”

She rummaged in her purse and pulled out an envelope. “Here, kid—this is for you!”

“What is it?” Luo Qiu didn’t reach for it.

Seeing his reluctance, Auntie Ren rolled her eyes and smacked the envelope onto his chest. “A supplementary credit card! Spending abroad isn’t as easy as it is here! You can use it without paying foreign exchange fees!”

Luo Qiu blinked in mild surprise.

Auntie Ren threw an arm over his shoulder, launching into her well-practiced lecture. “Listen, you can’t go running out of money over there! Sure, you’ve got a scholarship, but food costs money, doesn’t it? You’ll need money to buy things, right? To book hotels, right? You can’t go spending You Ye’s money! Paying for hotel rooms with a woman’s card—that’s just asking for divine punishment!”

…

“But spend wisely, okay? Don’t go overboard! And take care of yourself! I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you brought back a big chubby grandson for me next year, hahaha!”

“Go to bed,” Luo Qiu said expressionlessly, turning toward his room without another word.

“Can’t you at least act touched?!” Ren Ziling fumed.

At the door, Luo Qiu sighed. “After I leave, if you get lonely, let Li Zi come stay with you. There’s an extra room anyway.”

Her heart warmed instantly, and a bright smile spread across her face.

---

At his desk, Luo Qiu placed the envelope containing the card in a drawer, locked it, then turned on his desk lamp. From the bookshelf, he pulled out A Brief History of Time and began reading carefully.

---

Back in her apartment, Nan Xiaonan couldn’t find the grains of her homeland, but she had discovered something similar—white toast, its taste reminiscent of a staple food she once knew.

She carefully poured out a little jam from the jar and spread it on the toast—just half a spoonful, using a small wooden spoon. She even licked clean the jam stuck around the rim before closing the lid tightly.

Life required ceremony—even eating.

That single slice of toast, eaten with proper etiquette, took her fifteen precious minutes to finish.

She hadn’t gone to any staff dormitory but returned to her old apartment. As for Luo Qiu’s promise to “continue her story,” she wasn’t too worried.

She had already gained “qualification.” Once recognized by the world, many techniques and methods no longer required her to struggle to synchronize with the sub-world’s rules—she could use them freely. Now, only two tasks remained.

First, accumulating energy units.

Second, expanding the foundation of her Star Creation Ritual and Arcane principles within the world’s rule structure.

Having gained “qualification” meant both power systems now had a legitimate framework here—like registered companies awaiting development. The rest depended on how she filled them.

It would be a long process—rebuilding in this sub-world from nothing, reproducing the results of thousands of years of work from her previous one.

Compared to that, accumulating energy units was simpler.

Her soul was already strong, and even without meditation, she could naturally gather energy. Now that she had official status, the rate was impressive.

“Already 0.075 units,” Nan Xiaonan said with satisfaction.

That was her day’s progress—she had spent the last two days focused entirely on writing spells, not on energy accumulation.

The increase in power units meant a rise in her ability to protect herself. Against unknown dangers, Nan Xiaonan now felt far more confident—mainly because she didn’t believe she could be so unlucky as to casually run into another person of Luo Qiu’s level.

Still, caution never hurt.

After returning to her apartment, Nan Xiaonan kept her true sight active constantly, monitoring everything around her—otherwise, her accumulated power units could have been much higher by now.

Under her true sight observation, the corpse of the assassin she’d discovered days ago had vanished. She had been keeping an eye on the news for the past two days but hadn’t seen any related reports, so it seemed likely that the assassin’s body had been taken away by a companion.

The apartment itself yielded no clues.

Even so, Nan Xiaonan didn’t relax. She preferred slower accumulation of power units if it meant ensuring her safety. But the thought of “safety” left her feeling somewhat disappointed.

She wished that the organization pursuing the identity “Nan Xiaonan” had attacked back when she was still living at Ren Ziling’s house—then perhaps she could have relied on the world’s will or Luo Qiu’s power to erase that organization completely, once and for all.

Unfortunately, the connection had only been “severed” and then “resumed.”

Nan Xiaonan shook her head, stood on her tiptoes, and put the jar of jam onto the highest shelf of the cupboard, pushing it inside. Just as the cupboard door clicked shut, she swallowed hard.

“Just one more spoon! Just one more and that’s it! Worst case, I’ll finish the whole jar and offer myself as compensation!”

So she opened the cupboard again, stood on her toes, reached up, and muttered, “What’s this?”

Nan Xiaonan blinked, pulling down something from the top shelf—a USB drive.

Her expression shifted as she frowned slightly. Forgetting all about the jam, she hurried to the desk, plugged the drive in, and began browsing its contents.

The screen’s blue glow flickered in her pupils.

Her face slowly turned more and more puzzled.

“These files are…”

——

The reflected light from passing lamps danced across the back window of a blue Maserati, gliding over Song Ying’s fair face.

A MacBook Pro rested on her crossed legs as she focused intently on the screen. In the front seats sat a driver and a bodyguard, while another Alphard followed behind, carrying more security.

“Miss, with our funding, we shouldn’t need to look for partners, right?”

The question came from Song Ying’s assistant sitting beside her—a newly transferred aide from the Song family’s secret village school, still getting used to the company’s operations. Even so, after reviewing the company documents, the assistant couldn’t help but find them strange.

The company’s registered owner wasn’t Song Ying, but Young Master Qiu—and Song Ying herself didn’t hold a single share, merely drawing a CEO’s salary. It was hard not to speculate about the internal politics of the Song family.

“It’s true we don’t lack money,” Song Ying said, closing her laptop. “But what we do lack is time and facilities. The man we’re meeting—Mr. House—has excellent factories and sales networks in China, and strong ties with the Zhao family, one of Beijing’s four major clans. If we can use him as a platform, we can establish ourselves quickly.”

“These materials were all prepared by that Miss Zhang, right?” the assistant asked curiously.

Song Ying replied coolly, “It’s mutual benefit. Old Madam Zhang is a major figure in southern China’s business circles. Several prominent chamber of commerce leaders in this province are her protégés. No reason not to use those connections. Besides, our Song family’s been handling a lot of business for the Li family under her for years—now that we’ve got a chance to grow again, she’s happy to return the favor.”

“This old lady sounds like a tough one,” the assistant chuckled, then teased, “Miss, you used to hate dealing with these old fossils. Doing all this for Young Master Qiu’s company—he’s going to be touched when he finds out!”

“Touched, my ass! I’ll be lucky if he’s not making me mad! The guy disappears for days on end! I only said he didn’t need to worry as a polite thing to say—how dare he take it seriously and actually not care at all!”

“Ah, Miss… you shouldn’t have gotten involved with Young Master Qiu so fast,” the assistant sighed. “Men are all big pig trotters.”

In broad daylight, Young Master Qiu and Miss Ying had spent quite a while together in a car, and afterward, when Miss Ying complained about back pain, the story—passed along with “I’ll tell you something, but don’t tell anyone”—had already made its way back to the Song family’s secret village in South America. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but it wasn’t much of a secret either.

“Huh?” Song Ying froze.

Big pig trotters? What the heck does that even mean…

Just then, the car suddenly slowed to a stop. The driver turned around and said, “Miss, we’ve arrived.”

(End of Chapter)

In this context, “大猪蹄子” (big pig trotter) is a modern Chinese slang, mainly used by women to jokingly or teasingly describe men who are unreliable, fickle, or insensitive—especially in romantic relationships.

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