Chapter 12: Cross-Border Trade

"More than all of them combined? Can I ask—just how much are we talking about?"

Faced with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Zhu Yihai wasn't about to let it slip away. He was thrilled, of course, but he also knew this deal depended on one key thing: finding a reliable supplier.

There were suppliers he could trust — sure.

But it all hinged on volume.

Pierre didn't hesitate.

"Around twenty crates."

Twenty crates…

He didn't have the time to run around hunting sellers on his own — not in a foreign country, and not when time was limited. By the time he tracked someone down, the deal might already be gone.

"What?!"

Zhu Yihai's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Did you say twenty—twenty crates?!"

Each crate held 250 cartons of cigarettes. Not packs — cartons.

And in America, cigarettes were also under strict rationing.

Zhu was practically sputtering in disbelief.

"Do you have any idea how much that is?"He paced a step, clearly rattled.

"You'd have to buy out half of Chinatown to gather that kind of supply!"

Then he paused and glanced outside, lowering his voice.

"But... I do know someone who might have that kind of stock.

He's not Chinese, though."

"Not Chinese?"

"Right," Zhu nodded.

"But he's reliable.

Plenty of the supply in Chinatown comes from him, actually. His family ran bootleg liquor during Prohibition — and now they've moved into the cigarette trade."

Ordinarily, Zhu wouldn't mention that man. But with a commission like this on the line, there was no room for secrets.

"That said —he only deals in cash.

Before we go see him, let's sell what you brought with you."

"Alright. Start by helping me find a buyer.

I've brought high-end wristwatches. I'm talking premium timepieces."

"Thank you for your trust."

Zhu beamed.

"I'll take you there now."

He led Pierre out of Chinatown and into a more upscale district.

"This is Mr. Philip Corville," he said, introducing them in English.

"He runs the finest watch shop in the area. Mr. Li just arrived from Europe."

"Welcome, Pierre"

Corville greeted them warmly.

His shop was filled with gleaming displays — a clear sign this was a high-end establishment.

"You can call me Philip," he said, extending his hand.

Pierre shook it, but he wasn't here for pleasantries.

Time was short, and he had plans to move forward.

So he cut right to the point.

From his pack, he pulled out a watch and set it gently on the counter.

"Mr. Corville, a pleasure to meet you.

This is one of the watches I've brought.

Please take a look."

Corville's eyes latched onto it almost immediately.

"A Longines flyback chronograph…" he murmured.

"Using the 13ZN movement, no less."

He handled it with the care of a museum curator.

Flipping open the caseback, he pulled over a magnifying loupe and a desk lamp, inspecting every detail.

Meanwhile, Pierre and Zhu sat quietly off to the side, waiting.

When Corville finally looked up, his expression was thoughtful.

War had disrupted the luxury market.

Supplies were down, but demand — especially among the newly rich — had surged.

Swiss watches had become near-impossible to import.

Even now, the wealthy still wanted their timepieces — and more than ever, they were willing to pay.

"Are you looking to sell it?" Corville asked.

"If you're interested, I'll offer two hundred dollars.

Before the war, that would be the retail price for a new one.

Yours is from '38, but it's in excellent condition."

Two hundred dollars?

Pierre replied evenly.

"Two hundred and fifty.

I've got five more of the same model —

all in similar condition."

Zhu and Corville both looked at him in surprise.

Corville hesitated only briefly before nodding.

Five watches.

Twelve hundred fifty dollars.

Just like that.

This was just the beginning.

Back in London, knowing he wouldn't be able to spend pounds in America — and unable to convert them into dollars —

Pierre had gone on a quiet shopping spree.

In the chaos of wartime London, countless families were selling their treasures just to survive —

watches, cameras, even antiques and artwork.

In times of peace, people hoard beauty.

In times of war, they hoard food.

Longines chronographs like the one he'd just sold were practically mid-tier by luxury standards —

nothing rare, but respectable.

He'd bought them for little more than ten pounds apiece.

And there was more.

In his pack lay several other valuable pieces — including one that truly stood out.

A Patek Philippe Ref. 96 "Quantième Lune".

When he pulled it out, Corville's eyes lit up instantly.

This model had been discontinued as soon as the war began —

rare even back then, and nearly impossible to find now.

"How much would you offer for this one, Mr. Corville?"

Pierre asked calmly.

He didn't wait for an offer.

This wasn't a watch he knew nothing about.

Before the war — before his sudden journey —

he'd read a report that listed only seven known pieces of this exact model.

A newly discovered eighth had gone to auction for nearly 49 million Hong Kong dollars.

It was a watch people dreamed of owning.

If he hadn't needed funds to buy inventory, he might have kept it as a family heirloom.

Corville took his time inspecting it.

Finally, he spoke.

"1,800 dollars.

Mr. Pierre I assure you — that's the highest offer you'll get.

No one will pay more in this market."

"2,500."

Pierre said, without blinking.

Corville didn't even argue.

"Done."

At that, Pierre gave a small laugh and sighed.

"Well…

there goes the family heirloom."

And in that moment, time seemed to freeze.

The screen appeared again before his eyes.