I Can Give You a Character

... "What fee? Didn't you say there's no charge if we don't sell anything?" "That's right, no charge. But nobody does what you two are doing! You've had your stall set up here for seven or eight days and haven't sold a single damn thing. The least you could do is make room for other folks! You show up earliest every single day, grabbing the best spot before anyone else... What, you can't get enough of taking advantage?" ... Just as Lian Youming stepped out of the courtyard, he caught sight of his Third Aunt's two foolish boys arguing with the black market organizers. Hearing what the fuss was about, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Not bothering to put his mask back on, he strolled over to their stall and drawled, "How much for this stuff?" The two brothers had been cursing under their breath as they packed up. Hearing someone ask for prices, they looked up eagerly, but the moment they saw Lian Youming, they shuddered, tongue-tied. "Not... not selling anymore." "Are you two out of your minds? Someone finally asks, and now you won't fucking sell?" The black market men were dumbfounded too. Without another word, the two brothers kept their heads down, faces covered, and bolted with their sacks like a pair of thieves. Lian Youming strode forward to catch up, grabbed each of them by the back of their collars, and said with a faint smile, "You two have pretty sharp eyes. When I came back, my own mother didn't even recognize me, but you knew me at a single glance." The brothers' eyes darted about. Shrinking their necks, they spoke one after the other. "Big Brother, you got the wrong folks. We don't know you." "That's right, you... Bro, don't tell my ma, all right? If she finds out we came to the black market to hawk stuff, she'll beat us half to death." Lian Youming opened his mouth to say something, but as he leaned closer, his face turned green from the stench. "How long has it been since you two had a bath?" The brothers pulled down their face cloths, revealing two dark, rugged faces with mustaches beginning to sprout on their upper lips. These were indeed his Third Aunt's boys: the older one was Lu Dazhuang, and the younger, Lu Xiaozhuang. Xiaozhuang had smaller eyes and was slightly shorter. "We've been holed up under a bridge with a bunch of beggars for a week. My brother swore that if we sold this junk, he'd be able to afford a wife, and dragged me here to camp out day in and day out. I haven't had a full meal in days." Dazhuang flared up indignantly. "Bullshit! Didn't you eat up all the dry rations I brought?" Lian Youming asked them once more where they had gotten these things. Shouldering his cloth bundle, Dazhuang hung his head dejectedly. "A while back, we went into the Qinling Mountains and ran into a landslide. Next thing we knew, a whole bunch of jars and pots got washed out from who-knows-where." Seeing how famished, listless, and foul-smelling they were, Lian Youming asked, "Does Third Aunt know about this?" Dazhuang shook his head. "No. I told her we were going out to do day labor, room and board included." Lian Youming sighed in resignation. "Go to my house first." Dazhuang still seemed fixated on taking a wife, unable to resist asking, "What about these things?" Lian Youming glanced over and saw that they were all broken old pots and jars. He pondered for a moment. "I'll ask around for you when I get back and get an appraisal so you know where you stand." Remembering his promise to buy treats for the two younger kids at home, he urged them, "Head over by yourselves first. I've got some shopping to do. Don't even think about running off, or I'll tell Third Aunt the moment I get back." Once the two brothers readily agreed and shuffled off into the distance, Lian Youming turned back toward the courtyard at the end of the black market. Inside the courtyard. Song Xiehu let out a lingering sigh of relief, then chuckled with the joy of surviving a brush with death. "Xiao Wu, we really lucked out today. We met a good man." His brother-in-law was still baffled. "Brother-in-law, what do you mean?" Song Xiehu sat back down in his recliner, wanting to take a sip of tea to wet his throat. Only after tipping the teapot for a while did he remember it was empty. He smacked his dry lips. "That man having me deliver the message was his way of saving our lives. Otherwise, we wouldn't have had many good days ahead... Sigh, if all else fails, we should find an honest trade." He felt as though he had just walked right past the gates of hell. Lian Youming's punch had been terrifying. Just as he spoke, he saw Lian Youming walk back in. Song Xiehu turned pale instantly. "What... did you change your mind?" Lian Youming asked curiously, "Do you buy gold here?" Song Xiehu stared blankly for a good while before replying, "We do. How heavy?" Lian Youming considered it. "Two large gold bars." Song Xiehu thought for a moment and said in a low voice, "I can take one. Black market gold is currently going for around thirty-five yuan a gram. I can give you thirty-eight." "Deal. I'll come see you tomorrow." Lian Youming left in contemplation. Each of his large gold bars weighed well over three hundred grams; converting one into cash would yield roughly twelve thousand yuan, enough to solve plenty of problems. Needless to dwell on the details, after leaving the black market, Lian Youming went around Jiefang Department Store. He bought the things his younger sister and brother wanted—malted milk, Qinyong milk powder, White Rabbit creamy candy—picked out two sets of clothes for himself, and finally carried home a large cut of meat, nearly exhausting the money on him. By the time he returned home, most of the day had slipped away. Dazhuang and Xiaozhuang were dozing in the sun, while Lian Shuang and Lian Lei sat eagerly by the courtyard gate, waiting for his return. After settling the four of them, Lian Youming went into the room, fetched bathhouse tickets, and handed them to the two brothers. While they went off to wash up, he slipped into the kitchen, boiled a pot of noodles, and fried up half a basin of minced meat sauce. "Don't just eat candy! Eat your noodles first, or I won't buy you any next time!" Hollering at the two younger ones, Lian Youming picked up a bowl of noodles, grabbed the brothers' ragged cloth bag, and walked deep into the alley. The King of Scraps was basking in the sun by his doorway. Catching the aroma, he gave a hearty chuckle. "Well now, you cooked yourself." The old man then glanced at the ragged cloth bag in the boy's hand. "Did you dig up anything good on Mount Zhongnan?" "Didn't make it there. Ran into some trouble." Lian Youming took out the pots and jars and gave a brief account of the day's events. The King of Scraps took a look and shook his head. "Just trash. Some old mountain graves must have washed open. Not a single piece worth a copper." Lian Youming thought for a moment. Instead of asking further, he recited: "This staff was born of Mount Baonan, placed in Hong hands to strike down treachery..." Slurping up the noodles, the King of Scraps casually finished the verse: "Three feet six inches admit no alteration; four jin eight liang allow no deceit." Lian Youming asked curiously, "What is that?" The King of Scraps said, "That's a Red Pole poem of the Gown Brothers along the Sichuan-Shaanxi routes." Lian Youming marveled, "You really know a lot." The King of Scraps cast a sideways glance at him and teased, "What, want to learn? There's immense lore in this, though what they recite is just low-tier drivel. I'll teach you a verse—I guarantee that anyone who dares use Three Sects cant to brag about seniority will tremble in their boots the moment they meet you." Lian Youming's interest was piqued. "The Three Sects? Which three?" The King of Scraps said softly, "Red flower, green leaf, and white lotus root; the Three Sects were originally one family. These Three Sects refer to the Hongmen, the Green Gang, and the White Lotus Sect. The Elder Brothers Society, the Gown Brothers, even that Tianli Sect... back in the day, every underworld power with a name had tangled roots with the Three Sects." "The White Lotus Sect?" Lian Youming raised a thick eyebrow. "Then teach me one, so I can use it to hold my ground later." In just the span of a few sentences, the King of Scraps had polished off the bowl of noodles. Wiping his mouth, a rare smile broke across his face as he said in an indifferent tone, "Fine. In the old days, taking a master required picking an auspicious date, presenting an apprenticeship card, serving tea, and performing the three kneelings and nine kowtows. Times have changed now. I won't make you kneel. As long as you call me 'Old Master' from now on and serve me a cup of tea, I'll give you a character." Lian Youming grew all the more curious. Ever since he was born, this old man had lived right here. Yet over these past few days, the man's speech and demeanor had completely overturned his impression from the past ten-odd years. A thought struck Lian Youming: Could he be a hidden master? Looking at the old man's crippled leg, however, the thought quickly receded. He asked out of curiosity, "What character?" Meeting the young man's eyes, the King of Scraps smiled meaningfully. "I can give you the character 'Tong.'" Lian Youming blinked. "What? Tong? Are you trying to play mahjong?" The King of Scraps seemed long accustomed to the boy's cynical, irreverent streak. He merely chuckled, then said unhurriedly, "This character is a generation name. It connects above to 'Da' and stands above 'Wu.' If you receive this character, even the heads and chieftains of the Three Sects might have to bow their heads half a notch before your generational rank." Lian Youming's heart gave a leap. The thought he had just suppressed sprang right back up. Could this old man really be an expert in hiding? Yet how could any great expert live in such wretched squalor? The King of Scraps maintained his nonchalant tone. "Kid, you only get one chance. You'd better think it through. Miss it, and I'll never bring it up again. Not that it matters—it sounds impressive, but it's utterly useless. The only reason I've said this much today is because the mood struck me, and I felt like indulging you in a chat. Besides, this character shouldn't even exist in this day and age. It all hinges on fate and fortune—rising and falling in a single thought." Lian Youming didn't agree right away, but probed, "If we're talking seniority, what would those White Lotus Sect people have to call me?" The King of Scraps bared two rows of teeth. "When you speak, they would have to kneel to listen." "Huh." Lian Youming suddenly noticed that the King of Scraps's teeth were remarkably even and dense—there seemed to be quite a few more of them than an ordinary person had, and they were strikingly white. Seeing the boy get distracted, the King of Scraps lost interest as well and waved his hand. "All right, head on back. Tell your parents tonight that we're heading out to Mount Zhongnan before dawn tomorrow."