Folklore and Strange Tales: At the Start, You Retrieve the Sea-Suppressing Black Iron

Cheng Xiaojin didn't sleep well all night, tossing and turning like a pancake, his mind filled with Master Ma's words.

It's related to the line your dad was following back then.

The old man refused to tell him what kind of line it was.

As soon as it was light, he wrapped the lump of iron in three layers of old newspaper, stuffed it into a cardboard box that usually holds instant noodles, and then tucked the box under the bed, covering it with two pairs of smelly shoes.

It wasn't a particularly clever hiding method, Cheng Xiaojin thought. In his rented room, you could hear the neighbor sneezing, so even if someone came to rummage through the place, he couldn't hide it.

When he arrived at Panjiayuan, he set up his stall as usual, laid out the pile of copper coins and rough porcelain bowls, and sat on a small stool in a daze.

They were so distracted that they even forgot to shout out their wares.

"Oh, did Cheng Xiaojin take the wrong medicine today?"

Tieguai Li swayed from the other end of the corridor, leaning on his cane. He walked with an uneven gait, the tip of his cane tapping on the cement floor.

This was a man in his forties, thin and dark-skinned, with a prosthetic leg below the knee on his left leg, and his trouser leg always dangling loosely.

His face was etched with wrinkles from years of exposure to the wind and sun, but his eyes were bright; it was clear that this person was quite something.

"What are you talking about? What medicine could you possibly have taken wrong? I just didn't sleep well last night."

Tieguai Li sat down on the stone stool next to his stall, leaned his cane against the wall, took out a box of Hongmei cigarettes from his pocket, and put one in his mouth.

"I heard you spent eight hundred yuan on a piece of scrap metal yesterday?"

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at him sideways.

"You're very well-informed."

"Panjiayuan is such a small place, but if you ate a few bowls of rice at noon, the whole market would know by nightfall."

Tieguai Li lit a cigarette and took a puff.

"Eight hundred yuan? Come to my place, and I'll make you an exact replica. I'll only charge you twenty yuan for materials."

"What you forged is called iron, what I bought is called an antique. How can they be the same?"

"An artifact? Just that rusty lump?"

Tieguai Li scoffed.

"Your eyesight is passable for judging copper coins, but ironware? Tell me, when did you learn to judge ironware?"

"My grandfather taught me."

Cheng Xiaojin didn't go into details with him and changed the subject.

"Why are you here today instead of fixing clocks?"

"Finished the repairs, got today's work done smoothly, time to stretch my legs."

Tieguai Li patted his prosthetic leg.

"Slipping your leg? Which leg are you using?"

"Can you fucking not bring this up?"

The two exchanged a few words of banter and laughter, then Tieguai Li suddenly lowered his voice.

"Xiao Jin, I have something serious to tell you."

"You can actually spout something serious?"

"Pah! Seriously, yesterday afternoon when you were packing up, did you notice that fat guy wearing sunglasses standing on the east side of the market?"

Cheng Xiaojin's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't show it.

"I saw it, what's wrong?"

"Those are Fatty Sun's men."

"Which Fatty Sun?"

Tieguai Li glanced at him, as if to say, "You've been hanging around Panjiayuan for so many years and you still don't know Fatty Sun?"

"Sun Bingde is an old peddler who has been doing business in this area for twenty years. He has seven or eight henchmen working for him, and they only do one thing."

Tieguai Li raised one finger.

"Keep an eye on people."

"Stalking?"

"We specifically target new vendors and out-of-town customers, see who buys good stuff, write it down, and report it back to Fatty Sun, who then comes to collect it."

"When you say 'receive,' do you mean a legitimate form of receiving money?"

"He'll offer you a price you can't refuse. If you don't sell, he has plenty of ways to make it impossible for you to survive in Panjiayuan."

Cheng Xiaojin remained silent.

Tieguai Li flicked his cigarette ash.

"Last month, a young man in the western district bought a Xuande incense burner from the countryside of Tongzhou. The young man didn't know anything about it and didn't take it seriously. As a result, Sun Pangzi's men took a liking to it, bought it for 2,000 yuan, and resold it for 120,000 yuan."

"So the young man just admitted it?"

"What can you do if you don't acknowledge it? Fatty Sun has deep roots in this area and knows everyone in the management office. If you make a scene, you won't even be able to keep your stall."

Cheng Xiaojin looked down at the pile of scrap metal he had laid out, pondering in his mind.

Tieguai Li took another drag of his cigarette.

"I noticed that person was staring at you yesterday. Have you received something good lately?"

"That lump of iron from yesterday, I bought it to use as a weight."

Tieguai Li stared at him for two seconds, then didn't ask any further questions.

"Alright, just keep that in mind. Don't confront Fatty Sun head-on; he's not someone to mess with."

Tieguai Li walked away, leaning on his crutch.

Cheng Xiaojin sat alone at the stall, his face expressionless, mentally going over the events.

The fat man in sunglasses was indeed watching him, and he likely saw the entire process of him collecting the metal lump, including the scene of him breaking open the fake bronze cauldron for the man in the windbreaker to inspect.

But with that kind of iron lump, rusted into a pile, a normal person wouldn't think it's valuable.

Unless the other party has someone knowledgeable in the field.

Thinking about this, he felt a chill on the back of his neck.

Just when I was getting annoyed, Miao Daqing came again.

This time, Director Miao wasn't here to ask for money; he was here to check the documents.

"Cheng Xiaojin, where is your business license? Let me see it."

"Director Miao, didn't we just check that a couple of days ago?"

"We've been notified that there will be quarterly spot checks, so don't try to stall me."

Cheng Xiaojin squatted down and rummaged through his bag for a while, finally pulling out a plastic document bag containing a crumpled photocopy.

Miao Daqing took it and looked at it, then frowned.

"This is a copy. Where's the original?"

"The original is at home; I'm afraid I'll lose it."

"Bring the original next time; copies don't count."

Miao Daqing returned the file bag to him and began looking around, his gaze sweeping across the stalls, finally settling on a shimmering green jade bracelet in the corner.

"What is this?"

"A jade bracelet, from an old mine." Cheng Xiaojin said without batting an eye.

He bought the bracelet for fifteen yuan at the Tianyi Wholesale Market. It was made of pure glass and was placed on the stall as an ornament.

Miao Daqing picked it up and examined it for a long time, looking at it again and again in the light.

"How much is this worth?"

"The going rate would be several thousand, but if you like it, Director Miao, I'll give it to you for free."

"I'm so sorry."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You've always been a patron of my business, what's a bracelet compared to that?"

Miao Daqing held the jade bracelet up to his wrist, chuckled twice, put it in his pocket, and turned to leave.

The issue of operating permits was no longer mentioned.

Zhao Defa watched the whole thing from the next room and gave a thumbs up.

"Cheng Xiaojin, I'm truly impressed by your flattery skills."

"What is flattery? This is called maintaining interpersonal relationships, do you understand?"

"You think you can get rid of him with a fifteen-yuan glass bracelet?"

"He insists on thinking it's valuable, what can I do?"

As the sun began to set, Cheng Xiaojin started packing up his stall.

He had only rolled up halfway through the cloth when a figure stopped in front of him.

Cheng Xiaojin looked up.

He was a young man in his late twenties, wearing a gray polo shirt, with a buzz cut, and quite handsome. He was holding a card in his hand.

The young man didn't say anything, threw the card onto Cheng Xiaojin's stall, turned around and left without looking back.

Cheng Xiaojin picked it up and looked at it.

White background with black lettering, crudely printed, with only a phone number on top and two characters below the number.

Mr. Sun.

Cheng Xiaojin turned the business card over; the back was blank, there was nothing there.

The business card still smelled of cigarette smoke, and there were shallow creases on the edges, indicating that it had been repeatedly squeezed.

Cheng Xiaojin held the business card in his hand, watching the young man's figure disappear at the market exit.

Zhao Defa peeked his head out.

"Who was it that gave you their business card?"

Cheng Xiaojin put the business card in his pocket, picked up his backpack, and stood up.

"An insurance salesman."