With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

The night wind in the port city carried away the last trace of the smell of blood.

Jiang Zhiyu stood on the street corner, watching the dilapidated wooden house gradually disappear into the shadows as it was entwined by vines, as if no one had ever existed there.

The moment of relief she felt just now wasn't an illusion. Personally eliminating her uncle's family wasn't just revenge for the original owner of this body; it was more like severing the last ties that bound her to this world. From now on, she was Jiang Zhiyu, living for herself.

She stopped as she passed a dessert shop. A sweet aroma wafted on the evening breeze. Her mouth watered. She went inside and ordered a bowl of mango pomelo sago.

Cool mango chunks mixed with sago pearls slid down her throat, the sweet but not cloying flavor exploding on her tongue. She ate slowly, watching the rickshaws and neon signs passing by outside the window, and suddenly felt that this Hong Kong city in the 1970s was actually quite charming.

"0047, check the recent auctions." She scooped up a spoonful of pomelo segments. "Convert some of the gold and jewelry in the space into visible Hong Kong dollars for stockpiling."

[Host, there's a private auction in Central next Saturday, specializing in antiques, paintings, and precious metals.]

"Very good." Jiang Zhiyu put down her spoon, paid, and got up.

Across the street, the cinema was showing an old movie, and the actress on the poster was all smiles. She suddenly remembered that in the original owner's memories, her mother had said that once the situation stabilized, she would take her to see a color movie.

"Perhaps I should hurry back. Having taken this body, I have to bear the consequences of her actions, otherwise these images will keep popping up for no reason. The original owner's parents must not be doing well," Jiang Zhiyu murmured to herself.

The next morning, Jiang Zhiyu changed into a moon-white cheongsam, with a pearl brooch pinned to her collar, and hailed a rickshaw to head to the auction house.

The auction house is tucked away in an old colonial-style building, where the brass door knockers are polished to a shine and make a dull "click" sound when pushed open.

"Does Miss have an appointment?" the waiter asked, bowing slightly. His gaze swept over the slit in her cheongsam before he quickly lowered his eyes again respectfully.

Jiang Zhiyu handed over a gold-embossed invitation card – “Admission Ticket”.

After the waiter checked the list, he led her upstairs. The second-floor exhibition hall was already quite crowded; wealthy businessmen in suits and foreigners in top hats were conversing quietly, the air filled with the scents of cigars and perfume. Jiang Zhiyu ignored the scrutinizing gazes and went straight to the appraisal table.

"What do you want to sell?" The appraiser was an old man wearing a monocle and a jade thumb ring on his finger.

Jiang Zhiyu took out a brocade box from her handbag—inside were three 1914 Yuan Shikai silver dollars and a pair of silver bracelets, which she had found in her uncle's luggage. They weren't exactly rare treasures, but they were enough to test the waters.

The old man picked up the silver coin, blew on it, listened to it, then examined the bracelet's texture with a magnifying glass. He looked up and said, "Six hundred silver coins each. The bracelet is of average quality, so I'll give you two hundred. Want it?"

"That's too little," Jiang Zhiyu said casually, pulling a small cloth pouch from the bottom of her handbag. Inside was a sapphire the size of a pigeon's egg; its cut wasn't exquisite, but its color was pure. "What about this?"

The old man's eyes lit up. He quickly put on gloves, took the stone, and examined it closely under the light, his breathing becoming rapid. "Natural cornflower blue... Miss, I'll offer you HK$50,000 for this stone, how about it?"

People around them glanced at her. Jiang Zhiyu tapped the table with her fingertips: "Eighty thousand, plus those other items, take them all with you."

The old man hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said, "Deal!"

When the money was settled, the old man couldn't help but ask, "Miss, do you have any other treasures? We have a high-end auction next week, buying calligraphy, paintings, and gold. I'll give you a lower commission rate."

Jiang Zhiyu took the check, a slight smile playing on her lips: "We'll see."

As she left the auction house, she slipped the check into her handbag and went into the bank next door. Eighty thousand Hong Kong dollars wasn't a lot, but it was enough for her expenses for the next few days.

[Host, there's a department store three blocks ahead. Their Dacron fabric is in high demand right now! And since you're about to return to the mainland, this stuff is hard currency there, and you even need coupons for it.] 0047's voice was filled with excitement.

In Hong Kong during the 1970s, department stores were packed with people. Jiang Zhiyu squeezed her way to the fabric section and looked at the polyester fabrics hanging on the counter, in all sorts of colors.

"What would you like, miss?" The sales clerk asked without looking up, tapping on her abacus.

"Fifty bolts of each color of Dacron, and twenty bolts of cotton cloth," Jiang Zhiyu said, slapping the Hong Kong dollars she had just received onto the counter in a clear voice.

Several surprised glances immediately fell upon her. The sales clerk then looked up, noticing her presentable attire, unlike that of an ordinary person, and quickly became enthusiastic: "Alright! Please wait a moment!"

While cutting the fabric, Jiang Zhiyu glanced at the ready-to-wear section next to her. A rather unremarkable short jacket caught her eye; its style was neat and just right to cover the gun holster at her waist. She pointed to it: "Wrap that one up too." She had bought a lot this time, so she asked the shop assistant to deliver the fabric to the alley entrance.

As she paid, someone nudged her arm from behind. It was a woman in a cheongsam, clutching a cloth ration coupon in her hand, who whispered, "Miss, you've bought quite a lot, haven't you? Could you spare me two feet? My daughter needs some for her wedding..."

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at the coupons in her hand—they were cloth coupons from the mainland, which couldn't be used in Hong Kong. She thought for a moment, then pulled out two feet of pink polyester fabric from the newly wrapped cloth and handed it over: "Take it, it's free."

The woman's eyes welled up with tears of joy, and she thanked him repeatedly. Jiang Zhiyu waved her hand, picked up her bags, and squeezed through the crowd.

"Host, are you doing a good deed?" 0047 joked.

"Just doing it on the spur of the moment." She turned into the alley, where there were already piles of cloth! She glanced around to make sure no one was watching. She put the items into her spatial storage. "Let's go check out the auction preview."

The preview has already begun at a private club in Central. Under the crystal chandeliers, a dazzling array of auction items are on display, and several foreigners are discussing an antique painting in hushed tones.

Jiang Zhiyu's gaze fell on a sandalwood box in the corner. Inside the box was a set of silver wine utensils. She remembered having a pile of similar items in her spatial storage, which would be perfect for testing the waters.

"What's the starting bid for these wine vessels?" she asked the waiter beside her.

"Three thousand Hong Kong dollars, miss."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded and didn't ask any more questions. As she turned around, she bumped into someone. The coffee in the other person's hand spilled all over her, the dark brown liquid spreading into a stain on her moon-white cheongsam.

"I'm so sorry!" The man quickly handed over a handkerchief, his voice filled with apology. "My name is Shen Muyan. May I ask how you should address me, Miss? I will make amends another day."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at him—well-dressed and refined, yet with a shrewd glint in his eyes. She didn't take the handkerchief, saying indifferently, "No need." Then she turned and left.

Shen Muyan watched her retreating figure, smiled gently, and twirled the fabric fibers he had just picked up with his fingertips—the finest Hangzhou silk. There were only a few of these left in stock, and they had all disappeared on that ship.

When Jiang Zhiyu returned to the inn, 0047 suddenly alerted her: [Host, Shen Muyan is following you!]

She didn't stop walking, a cold smile playing on her lips. It seemed the waters of this port city were even more murky than she had imagined.