Chapter 10 The Excluded Smuggler (Revised)...

The entrance to the Swan Hotel was a mess, with bags full of goods and garbage piled on the ground.

Some of the bags were so full that the zippers burst open, and the leather jackets and down jackets inside spilled out like popcorn.

Shockingly explicit pornographic posters and magazines are brazenly exposed to the sunlight.

Several drunkards sat on the ground, their eyes bloodshot, rubbing their faces and yawning incessantly.

Several axes were lying carelessly on the ground, and a large, drooling dog was chained up nearby.

A crowd had gathered at the hotel entrance, mostly Chinese, pointing and commenting on the mess.

"What's going on? How can this hotel just close down like that, and even 'ban Chinese people from entering'? What's wrong with the owner?"

"you do not know?"

"I just got back from importing goods from China, how would I know?!"

"Hey, it's all because of those Russians. They said they wouldn't rent the house to Chinese people anymore, and they're forcing us to move out. I played cards all night yesterday and wasn't even fully awake when they forced me to vacate the room..."

"They won't even make money when they have the chance? Those Russians must have gotten their heads shot!"

He Changyi stood aside and overheard the conversation of the people around him to understand the cause and effect of the matter.

This Swan Hotel was originally run by Oroqen people. Later, a large number of Chinese traders flocked to Moscow. Among them, the shrewd ones negotiated with the Oroqen owner and leased two floors of the hotel specifically to accommodate Chinese people.

But for some unknown reason, the owner of the Eros building suddenly went back on his word and forcibly took back the two floors that had been contracted out.

The Chinese smugglers living inside were kicked out, and a sign prohibiting Chinese people from entering was put up at the door.

I don't know what happened in between that made the boss of Eros so hateful. It's like a straight man being tricked into having sex online by a cross-dressing gay man, only to find out in bed that the other man has something bigger than him and he's the bottom (...).

He Changyi had a headache.

Is Mosk a place that clashes with her personality?

Since getting off the train, nothing good has happened to me. I've either almost been robbed or my hotel went out of business. Earning a few rubles is harder than going to the Western Paradise to obtain Buddhist scriptures.

Should she really go to church to pray to the local metaphysical master?

Everyone says that combining the two methods will have a better effect. Otherwise, why don't we have the priest sprinkle some holy water on her with pomelo leaves to ward off bad luck?

While pondering the feasibility of combining Eastern and Western metaphysics, He Changyi also took a moment to consider the issue of where to stay for the night.

At least her place of residence should be one where she doesn't have to worry about being robbed at gunpoint while she's sleeping.

A large truck was parked in front of the hotel, and several traders were shouting as they loaded the goods on the ground onto the truck bed.

With the hotel's closure a fait accompli, the crowd standing at the entrance began to disperse one after another.

He Changyi picked the one who looked the most kind and asked where everyone was going to stay next.

The older brother kindly told her that there was another hotel in Mosk called Baikal Hotel, run by Chinese people, but it was a bit more expensive than the Swan Hotel.

He Changyi followed the crowd to the Baikal Hotel. The environment there was indeed much better than the Swan Hotel, but of course, the price was also considerable: 1,000 rubles per day.

—Equivalent to a month's salary for a local, which is quite expensive.

Even at such a high price, the Baikal Hotel had no spare beds because she arrived late and too many resellers had flooded in.

Standing at the hotel entrance, He Changyi looked up at the sky and sighed.

It's unbelievable that one day she would encounter the problem of having money but nowhere to spend it.

Unlike the Swan Hotel, the people standing at the entrance of the Baikal Hotel were mostly from Stan, empty-handed, and excitedly surrounded by Zhong Guo's face.

One of them approached He Changyi and asked her in broken Chinese if she wanted to exchange for US dollars.

He Changyi asked him what the exchange rate was, and the other party hesitated for a moment before gesturing 1:150.

He Changyi calculated that, based on this exchange rate, the rubles she had could be exchanged for about seven hundred US dollars, which would be convenient to bring back to China.

However, it was already late, not a good time to exchange currency, so the two agreed to meet at the Baikal Hotel the next day.

The Stan people enthusiastically offered to help He Changyi find a hotel to stay in, but she politely but firmly declined.

—Are you kidding me? If she accepted the other party's accommodation arrangements when they knew she was carrying a large sum of rubles, what's the difference between that and throwing her neck to the butcher's knife?

Don't gamble on the inherent goodness of human nature when it comes to strangers you've only met once.

As He Changyi was about to leave, he saw an old woman from Oroqen selling a silver teapot to passing traders.

The old woman wore a heavy coat and a headscarf, and looked very serious and unsmiling, a classic image of an old grandmother.

The silver teapot must have been used for a long time, as it has a warm, lustrous sheen and an antique design, clearly a family heirloom.

At other times, He Changyi would have bought it, but today she wasn't in a good mood and decided to leave after taking a couple of glances.

Just as she was about to leave, she saw a fat black marketeer take the silver teapot and hand the old woman a banknote she had never seen before.

He Changyi paused in his steps.

—When did our country start issuing RMB banknotes with a face value of one thousand?

At that time, due to the devaluation of the ruble, the strongest and most valuable currency in Russia was the US dollar, followed by the renminbi. Therefore, the renminbi was also nicknamed "the second hard currency".

In Russia, the yuan is sometimes more useful than the ruble, and many Russian sellers prefer to accept yuan, at least because the yuan's exchange rate doesn't keep falling all the time.

But no matter how strong the RMB is, you can't fool people with counterfeit money.

The fat smuggler casually tossed the silver teapot around in his hands, almost dropping it to the ground.

The old woman hurriedly took back the teapot, holding it carefully in her hands and stroking it repeatedly.

The fat reseller looked completely indifferent.

"Alright, old lady, be content. It's a thousand yuan. Is your broken teapot worth that much? It's only because I'm kind-hearted and can't bear to see old people suffer that I bought this piece of junk."

The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her face full of reluctance.

But considering that the silver teapot could be exchanged for bread and butter to feed the whole family for a month, they had to give it up no matter how reluctant they were.

Just as she was about to hand the silver teapot to the reseller, a woman's voice suddenly rang out.

"Bagni (fake)."

He Changyi walked over to the old woman, pointed to the 1,000 yuan banknote, and repeated it in broken Emei dialect.

"Bagni (fake)."

The old woman looked at her with suspicion, while the fat dealer was the first to become displeased.

"Hey, who the hell are you? Why the hell are you meddling in other people's business? What's it to you?"

He Changyi rolled her eyes.

I was already in a bad mood, and then I ran into some idiot who bullied an elderly person. It was like adding fuel to the fire.

"I told you that's enough. Who are you trying to fool with a counterfeit bill? Where did you get a thousand yuan? Did you invent it?"

The fat smuggler argued:

"Who says there aren't any? Russia has a thousand rubles, so why can't there be a thousand yuan?"

He Changyi said impatiently:

“Go to the People’s Bank of China and tell them that you invented a thousand-yuan banknote, and that it’s issued exclusively in Russia. Let’s see if the police arrive faster or you run away faster.”

Enraged, the fat speculator raised his fist in a threat.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Do you know who I am? If you mess with me, you can forget about living here!"

Just as He Changyi was about to retort, the old woman, who had finally figured out what had happened, grabbed her behind her like an enraged lioness and unleashed her full power on the fat black marketeer.

"#￥%&Sukabulye*@#￥Ahuyevsi￥%&Dudrak@#￥Zaibis￥%*&!!!"

The old woman had a loud voice, and everyone around, whether Chinese or Russian, looked over in surprise.

He Changyi's eyes twitched as he listened.

I didn't understand anything else, but I did hear the few swear words she knew in Ethnic Minority.

That's why they say old ginger is spicier; despite her dignified and serious appearance, the old woman was a cultured person at heart.

The fat speculator was given a severe dressing-down, and his face turned bright red.

He angrily swung his fist at the old woman, but the nearby Oroqen people all looked at him, their silent gazes filled with pressure.

The fat smuggler sheepishly lowered his hand, snorted, and turned to return to the hotel, his steps quickening as if he were fleeing in panic.

The old woman stopped talking, still wanting more, and turned to He Changyi, speaking gently. Seeing her blank expression, she took out a small piece of chocolate from her pocket and gave it to her.

He Changyi thought for a moment, and realized that if the family hadn't been short of rice, the old man wouldn't have been willing to sell his family heirloom teapot.

She took a stack of rubles out of her bag and handed it to the old woman, indicating that she wanted to buy the silver teapot.

The old woman only took a few bills from the money and pushed the rest back.

She handed the silver teapot to He Changyi, then tiptoed to hug her before turning and leaving.

He Changyi watched the old woman walk away, and couldn't help but shake his head with a self-deprecating smile. What a mess this is.

I haven't found a place to stay yet, but I've bought a teapot first.

He Changyi also left the Baikal Hotel and went to find the hotels one by one according to the locations marked on the map.

Unfortunately, when they learned she was from China, all the hotels refused to accommodate her, and the receptionists looked at her as if they had seen rats in their granary.

Mosk does not welcome Chinese people.

As He Changyi walked down the street, this sentence came to mind.

Some of the Oroqen people looked at her with disgust, as if they had seen something filthy.

He Changyi's lips twitched. Although she hadn't washed her hair or showered for a week on the train, she wasn't that smelly...

Besides, she hasn't complained about Mosk being desolate and dilapidated yet.

The city was like it had been on strike for a hundred years; sanitation conditions were back to the Middle Ages; thieves and hooligans were everywhere; and there were old beggars and drunkards all around.

For a moment, He Changyi thought he had actually traveled to Gotham City, and that a cat-eared cosplayer would descend from the sky and shout, "Get out of my city!"

A drunkard, carrying a bottle of liquor, stumbled down the street. Suddenly, he tilted his head back, downed the last mouthful of liquor, slammed the empty bottle on the ground, and roared, "Alliance! Hurrah!"

Upon seeing He Changyi not far away, he suddenly sped over like a tractor.

"Zhong Guo is a liar!"

He Changyi lifted her foot, and the other person's face bumped into the sole of her shoe. The next moment, the other person fell asleep, a sleep quality that was truly enviable.

Even carrying a heavy bag of rubles, He Changyi couldn't help but feel irritable.

This feeling of being rejected and an outsider is truly awful.

As darkness fell, most of the streetlights were broken, with only one or two lights barely illuminating the scene.

He Changyi wandered aimlessly through the streets of Mosk. When he passed a cemetery, he had an urge to spend the night there.

—If anyone dares to rob her, she'll show them what a uniquely Chinese ghost story looks like.

Snowflakes began to fall at some point, settling in a thin layer on He Changyi's head and shoulders.

Ahead, a building had its door ajar, and warm light spilled out, with soft music faintly audible.

He Changyi was completely frozen. If she continued walking, she could present the people of Moscow with a living ice sculpture from China tomorrow.

Without hesitation, she pushed open the door. No matter what was inside, she was determined to carve out a spot, even if it meant throwing rubles at it.

She froze as soon as she entered the door.

—How the hell is this a church?!

A note from the author:

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I'll resume my daily update schedule, building up a draft first, then six chapters a day after the VIP chapters.

By the way, I don't understand why firmness would […].