Qin Hui swung his wrist and said, "Write what?"
I held up the signs with handles in front of him and said, "These ones say 'Protect flowers, plants and trees'."
"What about those?" Qin Hui was eager to try writing, seemingly very confident in himself. I had also heard that this guy wrote quite well.
I pointed to no less than a hundred signs and said, "These are half 'male' and half 'female'."
"Male or female?" Qin Hui muttered for a moment, then exclaimed, "You're not going to hang it on the toilet, are you?"
"Yeah, so what's wrong?"
Qin Hui said aggrievedly, "I can't just assign toilets, can I? I'll inscribe some names for places like Hongwu Hall or Yangxin Palace, I guarantee they'll be absolutely beautiful."
I snapped, "Stop talking nonsense! Someone like you only deserves to write inscriptions for toilets—"
Chapter Nine Supplementary Report
It was past 4 PM when they returned to the pawnshop. Mulan and Ni Siyu had just arrived home as well. Mulan tossed her high heels aside, sat on the sofa, and frantically rubbed her feet, leaving a pile of shopping bags at her feet. In this respect, she didn't seem like a woman. If she were Baozi, no matter how tired she was after shopping, she would try on all the clothes she bought.
The current Mulan resembles a high-ranking executive of a foreign company, with a crisp white women's blouse and a sharp business suit, looking capable and charming. Given her military background, this outfit certainly suits her well; it seems the young woman put a lot of thought into dressing Mulan. However, this image of a strong woman seems far removed from Mulan's dream. In my mind, strong women are a species smaller than men but larger than women; they're roughly equivalent to transvestites.
As Ni Siyu was leaving, she told me, "I've made up my mind, I'm not going abroad." I looked at Mulan on the sofa and asked, "Did your sister give you a lesson in patriotism?" I absolutely believed that Mulan, who had never had a moral education class, had the ability to persuade the wavering little girl in just a few words.
Ni Siyu laughed and said, "I've thought about it. I'm only 19 this year, so I can still participate in the next Olympics." Ni Siyu's eyes swept around the room, and I said, "Your older brother might have gone out." The little girl blushed and ran away as if she were running away.
...
For the next two days, Liu Laoliu kept me busy, bringing two more people over. The first was an old man, and the second… also an old man. The first one sat in a bar not drinking anything; I later learned he was Lu Yu, the Tea Sage. He led me to a tea shop, smelling and selecting two obscure teas, then back at school complained the water was no good. That day happened to be the first heavy rain of autumn, and Lu Yu quickly set out every container he could find in the kitchen to collect the water. But as everyone knows, city rain these days is acid rain; it's so bad it can ruin your face. So, Lu Yu drank a small cup of "rain tea" in the morning, and by the afternoon he was constantly in the bathroom…
The second person arrived, his hands constantly tapping randomly on the table. At first, I thought he was an IT worker, but then Liu Laoliu told him it was Yu Boya. Many people are probably familiar with the name Yu Boya; after some inquiry, I learned he was the author of "High Mountains and Flowing Water." Years ago, Old Yu was playing the qin (a seven-stringed zither) alone, and just as he was getting into it, the strings snapped. Old Yu was furious, knowing someone was trying to listen to him for free. A little while later, sure enough, a woodcutter appeared from behind the mountain, and Old Yu asked him what he was doing. The woodcutter was Zhong Ziqi. Although Zhong Ziqi was now chopping wood, he might have attended a music academy in his younger days; another story says his grandfather was a cotton fluffer, so he was quite knowledgeable about music. He calmly said, "Let me listen." Old Yu asked, "Can you understand it?" Zhong Ziqi said, "Play one." Yu Boya played one, and Zhong Ziqi said, "G major." Yu Boya was surprised and played another piece. Zhong Ziqi nodded and said, "Hmm, that's the blues." Overjoyed, Yu Boya considered Zhong Ziqi his closest confidant. When they parted, they agreed to meet again at the same place the following year, where Yu Boya would present his complete works, "To Zhong Ziqi" and "Bao Shuya by the Sea," to his soulmate. However, when Yu Boya returned, he found that Zhong Ziqi, like most top artists, had died of grief and frustration. This meant that no one would understand what Yu Boya was playing anymore. Heartbroken and desperate, Yu Boya smashed his zither at Zhong Ziqi's grave, vowing never to play G major or blues again. Whether he played C minor or switched to the harmonica is unknown—excerpt from Chapter 32, "Random Playing," Volume 1 of *A Humorous Account of a Thousand Years of History*, by Zhang Xiaohua (The above is fictional; for historical accounts, please refer to relevant historical materials).
In this way, our Yucai School has gathered many art masters such as the Sage of Calligraphy, the Sage of Painting, the Sage of Tea, the Immortal of Poetry, and the Immortal of the Qin (a seven-stringed zither), but I have little interest in these titles. When I was a child, my father, on a whim, sent me to the Children's Palace to write "Learn from Uncle Lei Feng" with a brush for a month, but it eventually came to nothing. Our art teacher was a well-known folk painter in the city at the time. Inspired by Leonardo da Vinci's eggs, he had us draw eggs in every art class. To be honest, my egg-drawing skills were definitely among the best in the class, unlike some children who just drew two simple circles. However, I shouldn't have added something between the two eggs, and later our homeroom teacher called my parents—even now, I'm always terrified whenever I have the number combination 010 in my bank account.
As for tea and the zither, there's no need to mention them anymore. What did Miaoyu from Dream of the Red Chamber say? Drinking a small bowl is called tasting, and anything more is just guzzling. I like to drink brick tea in a 2.5-liter thermos, whistling as I drink... I probably won't have much in common with Lu and Yu.
That day, I was idly dozing off in the pawnshop again. To be honest, I really like my current job, and if it weren't for what happened later, I would have been willing to stay like this forever. It's just that I feel a little sorry for Lao Hao. Half of the reason for the pawnshop's poor performance is my lazy attitude, so I've made up my mind to quit after I get married. I still need to stay at Lao Hao's place for a few days so that I can give Baozi a surprise on the day of the wedding.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, a phone call jolted me awake. I grabbed the phone and angrily shouted, "Hello!"
Old Hao's cheerful voice: "Qiangzi, are you there?"
My face flushed. Judging from Lao Hao's tone, he seemed to know quite a bit about my recent situation. It was like saying Cao Chong's father was right there.
"Hehe, boss."
Are you busy lately?
"...It's alright." My face turned even redder. When the boss says this, it's usually the hardest thing for an employee to answer. I'm busy as a bee, but what about the business volume?
"I've heard about what happened at your school. It's been very well organized. Remember to invite me next time it's the school's anniversary celebration."
"Mr. Hao, I..."
"Qiangzi, there's no need to say anything more. This place is a very demanding business, and I understand that young people can't stay in it for long. I'm very pleased to see that you've built your own career. To put it bluntly, I've always treated you like my own son."
If anyone other than my dad said this, it would be quite cheesy. But Lao Hao has the right to say it. In the past three years, apart from getting a used Passat, I haven't made a single penny for Lao Hao. I even embezzled a Song Dynasty bottle. Lao Hao has never said a word.
Old Hao said earnestly, "Don't worry, I'll let you go whenever you want to leave—don't overthink it, even if you don't mean it, you're always welcome."
Anyway, this matter would have to be brought up sooner or later, so I stammered, "Can we finish this month's work?"
Old Hao readily agreed.
I said with some emotion, "Thank you, boss. If you ever need anything, just ask. I'll do whatever it takes to make up for what I owe you."
Old Hao chuckled, a laugh that gave me goosebumps: "Now you have an opportunity, it just depends on whether you dare to take it or not..."
Chapter Ten: Going to the Meeting Alone
What's Lao Hao up to? Robbing a bank? Printing counterfeit money? Judging from his tone, this is definitely not a simple matter. If it were something legitimate, there would be no need for such secrecy, right? The first time someone tried to seduce me like this was when I was eight years old. Erpang, who was in third grade (readers with good memories will definitely remember that he appeared frequently; he and I have never gotten along since childhood), asked me, "Do you dare to come with me to the orchard to steal apples?" Later, the three of us—me, Gou, and Erpang—had a race. I lost to Gou, but I beat Erpang…
"Boss, just say what's on your mind."
Old Hao chuckled: "Alright, then I'll get straight to the point. Someone owes me money and hasn't paid it back, and it seems like he doesn't plan to. I don't know if he's really forgotten, so I'm planning to find someone to remind him."
"How much is owed?" I breathed a sigh of relief; after all, it was still within the legal range.
"5 million."
...
My breath hitched again: whether someone owes you or you owe someone 5 million, it shouldn't be so easy to forget, right? It seems this matter has become complicated again.
"What does that person do?"
"People in the underworld call him Lei Laosi."
"Someone involved in organized crime?"
"Heh, looks like you really haven't been on the streets for a long time. Lei Laosi isn't just some ordinary gangster; otherwise, how could he have borrowed so much money from me?"
Wait a minute, Lei Laosi, that name sounds familiar, like I've heard it somewhere before. Right, when I first took over the bar, the former manager surnamed Liu challenged me and said that he wasn't afraid of anyone except Lei Laosi. So that means Lei Laosi is at least a big shot in the underworld.
I know that people in Lao Hao's line of work inevitably deal with all sorts of shady characters. So it's not surprising that he has financial dealings with Lei Lao Si.
I asked, "What does Lei Laosi mean? Does he not want to pay it back, or is there some other reason?"