Steamed Buns

Discovering that Zhang Laifu was gone, Lao Zheng shoved his way through the crowd in a hurry to search in every direction. In his way of doing things, Zheng Pipa was vastly different from Lao Yu. He was neither reckless nor flamboyant, and what Song Yongchang prized most about him was his steady composure and patience. He had stood in the crowd doing nothing, intending to make his move on Zhang Laifu only after the onlookers dispersed. Yet how had he managed to botch such a simple matter? What had just happened? Why on earth had he gotten caught up in watching the spectacle? It was not just Lao Zheng; many of the onlookers lingering around had yet to scatter either. Now that his toothache was gone, Xiao Yang thanked Li Yunsheng profusely. Li Yunsheng sat back down in his chair, picked up his teacup, and nudged the lid aside. "No need to thank me. The consultation fee is three silver dollars." As a night watchman, Xiao Yang earned sixteen silver dollars a month. Three silver dollars amounted to six days of his wages. Though it stung a bit, compared to the agony he had suffered from the toothache, Li Yunsheng was not asking for much. Xiao Yang pulled out a silver coin. Taking the money, Li Yunsheng instructed, "Go to the paper-craft shop, buy some paper sycees, incense, and candles, and burn them beside the ash pit at the end of the street." The night watchman hesitated, troubled. "How could I dare go back there?" Li Yunsheng did not press him hard. "Deceiving the living is wrong, and deceiving ghosts won't do either. You still have to earn your living as a watchman, and you can't change your assigned beat. You'll still have to pass that dirt pit every night. Next time you run into him, it might not just be a toothache." Xiao Yang took his advice to heart and hurried off to the paper-craft shop. The onlookers chimed in with praise. "Now that's a true craftsman! Three silver dollars earned in a single deal." "The key is that his work isn't exhausting at all. The whole thing took less time than smoking a pipe, and he didn't even break a sweat." Taking a drag from his pipe, He Yunxi blew the smoke toward his birdcage. "You only talk about how easy his work looks, but do any of you know how hard it was when he was learning his craft?" Hearing that, Lao Zheng could not help but sigh. "Aye, learning a craft truly isn't easy. Back when I was studying singing under my master..." *Why am I getting caught up in the spectacle again? Hurry up and find him!* Lao Zheng genuinely could not comprehend what had come over him, and neither could Li Yunsheng. As a doctor of the Zhuyou branch, Li Yunsheng had been mocked more times than he could count, and he rarely took such things to heart. Yet today, his state of mind had undergone a subtle shift. He had displayed his craft with excessive ostentation. While it had vented his frustration and won him respect, it was bound to invite trouble later. He was normally accustomed to caution, so why had he failed to keep his temper in check today? Li Yunsheng walked over to He Yunxi, cupped his hands, and said, "Sixth Master He, thank you for backing me up just now." He Yunxi set his birdcage to the side and returned the salute. "I should be the one thanking you. Let's share a cup of tea together another day." Li Yunsheng did not know He Yunxi, yet he could not shake the feeling that the man seemed inexplicably familiar. Once He Yunxi had left, Xiao Yang came running back from the paper-craft shop carrying a bundle of incense, candles, and a bag of paper sycees. "Doctor, take a look—are there enough candles and sycees here?" Li Yunsheng nodded. "That's plenty. Was that Sixth Master He just now a friend of yours?" Xiao Yang nodded. "Yes, a new friend I made today." "Today?" "Mhm!" Xiao Yang pointed toward the intersection. "My tooth was killing me. When I walked past the crossing, he said he could find someone to cure me, so he brought me here." This new friend was far too new; Xiao Yang had only just met He Yunxi as well. Just what was He Yunxi's background? And what was the background of the man who had picked a fight earlier? Furthermore, where had that craftsman singing pingtan from the shadows come from? *** "A scholar's true nature is pure and proud; fret not over hardships for now. As long as you study diligently and do not neglect the classics, your soaring ambitions will be realized in a single dawn!" Lao Zheng walked along the curb, singing as he went. Though his hands were empty and he was singing acapella, anyone listening could clearly hear the accompaniment of a pipa weaving through his words. Both the notes of the instrument and the voice were so captivating that no listener could pull their ears away. Zhang Laifu ducked into an alley and pressed his body tight against the foot of the wall. He knew Lao Zheng was near the entrance of the alley. He could hear the sound of Lao Zheng's pingtan singing; although he could not make out the lyrics, the melody and vocal style were unmistakable. Lao Zheng's singing sounded so enchanting that Zhang Laifu felt a powerful urge to step closer and listen carefully. His feet began moving involuntarily. Fortunately, the distance between them was still considerable; Zhang Laifu gritted his teeth, dug his fingers into the brick wall, and barely managed to hold himself back. An old man also walked into the alley. He carried a basket on his arm covered with a cotton quilt, making it impossible to tell what lay inside. Lao Zheng walked past the mouth of the alley. The old man came up beside Zhang Laifu. Holding his breath and focusing his mind, Zhang Laifu prayed with all his might that this old man would not speak to him. The old man seemed completely unaffected by the pingtan. He simply trudged along the alley, casting a glance at Zhang Laifu as he passed. A cold sweat broke out across Zhang Laifu's body. If the old man spoke a single word to him, Zhang Laifu would be exposed. With his head lowered, Zhang Laifu's heart jumped into his throat and his breath caught in his chest; from his skin down to his bones, a wave of numbness washed over him. The old man walked past, paying Zhang Laifu no further attention. Lao Zheng also walked past the alley entrance, taking no notice of the lane. Zhang Laifu let out a long breath and turned to leave, only to hear the quilt-carrying old man suddenly shout, "What're you up to!" The old man had a heavy regional accent and a booming voice, frightening Zhang Laifu half to death. Terrified that Lao Zheng would give chase, Zhang Laifu hastily lowered his head and quickened his pace. As it turned out, Lao Zheng did not come after him, but the old man did. "I'm askin' ya, what're you up to!" Zhang Laifu glanced back and gave a perfunctory reply. "I'm not doing anything." "If you ain't up to nothin', why were you starin' at me just now?" "I wasn't trying to do anything. I was just..." "What on earth are you tryin' to do?" There was simply no explaining it. Zhang Laifu grew frantic. The old man's voice was far too loud; a couple more sentences, and he was bound to draw Lao Zheng over. In his desperation, he had no idea how to handle the situation, when he suddenly heard the old man ask, "Are you tryin' to buy steamed buns?" Zhang Laifu froze. "How did you know?" The old man pulled back the quilt over his basket and took out a bun. "One dazi for one, two dazi for three!" It took Zhang Laifu a long moment to find his voice. "Old Uncle, do you really sell buns?" The old man held his head high, raising the bun up into the air. "Good flour, good filling, good buns! Are you buyin' or not!" "I'll buy." The old man barked, "Hand over the money!" If he wanted money, he could just ask for it—why did this old man have to make such a deafening racket! Zhang Laifu took out one dazi, counted out another ten copper cash, and handed them over. After counting them twice, the old man handed Zhang Laifu three steamed buns. Covering the basket with the quilt once more, he refrained from shouting his wares or displaying the buns, simply moving on with the basket tucked under his arm. Zhang Laifu watched the old man's receding back. Doing business like that, who could ever tell he was selling steamed buns? Now that he had the buns, all he had to do was find Sixth Master He to trade them for five dazi. Yet Zhang Laifu dared not return to Zhuzi Street, nor did he dare seek out Sixth Master He. Pocketing the buns, Zhang Laifu followed the alleys and ran as far away as he could, making his way from Zhuzi Street to Bailun Alley, crossing Yutou Road, and finally reaching Lotus Bridge. By the time he reached Lotus Bridge, the night was deep, and Zhang Laifu could walk no further. He had not closed his eyes the previous night and had spent the entire day on the run. His legs refused to carry him, and his eyes could barely stay open. He wanted to find a place to sleep and inquired at two inns, but even the cheapest communal sleeping platform cost ten dazi a night. With only a dozen or so copper cash left, he could not even scrape together two dazi. An inn was entirely out of the question. Zhang Laifu looked toward Lotus Bridge and decided to squat beneath its arches for the night. Lotus Bridge was an arch bridge with seven spans beneath it. The main arch spanned the Heisha River, flanked by three smaller arches on either side. The other arches were overly crowded, packed with beggars huddled together for warmth. The arch closest to the riverbank was relatively quiet. Only a single beggar had built a fire there, simmering vegetables in an earthenware pot. When Zhang Laifu stepped into the archway covered in mud, the beggar cast him a look of utter disgust, using his body to shield the pot for fear that Zhang Laifu might snatch his food. Leaning against the bridge pier, Zhang Laifu took out a steamed bun and took a bite. As he ate, he raised an eyebrow at the beggar. "Looking down on me? I've got food too!" The beggar snorted and cradled his pot, slurping down his stew with relish. Holding his bun, Zhang Laifu tried to slurp as well, only to swallow a mouthful of cold wind. The breeze was biting and the bun was a bit salty. Zhang Laifu wanted to fetch some water from the river to drink, when he suddenly heard someone call out from the riverbank, "There are bugs in that water. You have to boil it before drinking!" The voice sounded somewhat familiar. Looking along the riverbank, Zhang Laifu spotted a man squatting by the water, washing his face. He looked as though he had just been in a brawl; his clothes were torn to tatters and his face was streaked with blood, making him unrecognizable at first glance. Yet when the man turned his head, Zhang Laifu saw a medicinal plaster stuck to his forehead, covering half of one eye. Zhang Laifu recognized him at once. "Sixth Master He?" He Yunxi gave a chuckle and wiped his face. "You little rascal still recognize me?" Zhang Laifu nodded. "I do!"