roccoschili Chapter 1, The Peddler of Lin'an
Chapter 1, The Peddler of Lin'an
"Boss, take another look. Is this 'Shaoxing Tongbao' coin a fake?"
In Old Chen's Pawnshop next to the mobile phone repair shop, Lin Zhou pushed a copper coin onto the glass counter.
Behind the counter, Mr. Chen, wearing a monocle, picked up the coin and examined it under the LED light, chuckling, "Xiao Lin, we're old acquaintances. Genuine? A genuine one wouldn't look like this. What about the patina? The rust? Only the lettering is decent. Five hundred yuan, I'm buying your counterfeiting skills, not this 'last week' stuff."
"Five hundred? Brother Chen, your knife is too fast." Lin Zhou chuckled, too lazy to argue, casually took back the copper coins, and then carefully took out a jewelry box from his backpack.
Inside the box lay a gold hairpin, its kingfisher feather inlay shimmering with iridescent light. The hairpin itself was in a simple, folded-pole shape, clearly demonstrating exceptional craftsmanship.
"Holy crap..." Boss Chen gasped, quickly picked up the magnifying glass on the table, and examined it closely. His hands were trembling slightly. "This...this craftsmanship is from the Song Dynasty palace! Where did you get such a good thing? But this is just an old work being reworked, at most twenty or thirty years old."
"Never mind the year, just give me a fair price." Lin Zhou's tone was no longer friendly.
Boss Chen stroked the gold hairpin, absolutely delighted: "It's new, thank goodness it's new! If it were an old one, like the one worn by Consort Huizong, a first-class cultural relic, we'd have to go inside and work on a sewing machine! At today's gold price of 960, I'll give you 1300 per gram, the extra as labor cost, isn't that fair?"
"Fifteen thousand." Lin Zhou placed his hand on the box lid, as if to close it. "A price for acquaintances. I'd ask for at least eighteen thousand for anyone else."
"...Alright, deal!"
The gold hairpin weighed 27 grams, and he received 40,500 yuan. Lin Zhou glanced at the still pitiful balance in his mobile banking account, pursed his lips, and turned to leave.
Back in his rented single room in the urban village, he immediately opened Pinduoduo and started placing orders like crazy: he ordered 800 boxes of instant noodles, hundreds of kilograms of ham sausages, as well as various canned meats, canned fruits, and carbonated drinks. His shopping cart was so full it looked like he was preparing for the apocalypse.
The delivery guy who came to deliver the goods yesterday couldn't help but quietly ask him, "Dude, did you get some inside information? Extreme weather or a virus leak?"
After stocking up the goods, it was already four o'clock in the afternoon. Lin Zhou went into the small room next door, which was used as a warehouse, and began "pre-processing": he removed the plastic packaging from the instant noodle cakes and neatly stacked them into a large wooden box, squeezed the powdered seasoning packets into several rough earthenware jars, and packed the ham sausages and other side dishes into bamboo baskets. Finally, he also shoveled a large bag of black coal and placed it next to him.
After everything was prepared, he loaded it all onto a specially made old-fashioned wooden cart—a cart made by an old carpenter in town, without even a nail or rubber tires, a true museum piece.
Then, he took off his smartwatch, put his phone away, even removed his Bluetooth earphones, and changed into a drab gray cloth outfit. After this makeover, he looked exactly like an extra who had just escaped from the set of an period drama.
"start!"
He took a deep breath and focused his mind. The next second, a familiar sense of disorientation washed over him.
When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a dilapidated village four miles outside Lin'an City. This place was rumored to be haunted, so few people came here, making it a temporary home for seventy or eighty war orphans. Most of these children were descendants of the generals who were implicated after Marshal Yue Fei was killed three years ago; the oldest was sixteen or seventeen, and the youngest was only four or five.
"Big Brother is here!"
One of the children, with sharp eyes, shouted, and a group of teenagers instantly poured out of the dilapidated house. They cheered and surrounded Lin Zhou and his cart, helping him unload the goods, pack up, and start a fire to boil water.
Lin Zhou laboriously dragged down two bags of rice, two bags of flour, and several jugs of oil, piling them in front of a thin girl.
"Xiao'e, this trip includes two hundred catties of rice, two hundred catties of flour, and some oil and vegetables." As he spoke, he bent down and pulled out half a pig from under the cart: "Add this half pig, and you can decide how to use it."
"Big brother..." The girl named Xiao'e's eyes were a little red, and her voice choked up, "You always bring so much... You yourself aren't well-off..."
"I won't go hungry, don't worry about me." Lin Zhou waved his hand, his expression becoming serious: "The important thing is for you to hide well and not be discovered, this world is not peaceful."
"Hmm..." Xiao'e responded with her head down.
"Oh right, I've already eaten. Don't prepare anything for me, I have to rush to the city to set up my stall." Lin Zhou pulled up the cart, the axle making a dry, creaking sound.
Watching his retreating figure, Xiao'e felt a pang of sadness. If it weren't for taking care of them, this burden, her elder brother, with his abilities, would have been living a good life in Lin'an long ago, and might even have gotten married.
"Oh, right." Lin Zhou walked to the village entrance, then suddenly turned around: "Xiao'e, this is for you."
He walked back quickly, took a pack of sanitary napkins from his pocket, and stuffed it into Xiao'e's hand.
Xiao'e's face flushed instantly. She hurriedly hid the things in her sleeve, her voice barely audible: "Thank you, brother..."
"Don't mention it, don't be so polite with me." Lin Zhou smiled and ruffled her hair. "Remember, don't be stingy with this stuff, and don't reuse it! Just let me know if you run out, and I'll bring it over for you."
"I...I understand..."
The cart creaked and started moving again, with a few older children following behind to help push it.
"Big brother, will you come and teach us to read again tonight?" a child asked, looking up with bright, sparkling eyes.
"I will teach. But let's be clear, I'm just a half-baked teacher, so don't expect me to produce any real knowledge," Lin Zhou said with a smile.
"Big Brother isn't just a jack-of-all-trades!" a younger child exclaimed eagerly. "Sister E said Big Brother is the most amazing person in the world!"
"Alright, alright, I'm getting embarrassed if you keep praising me! Go back and help with the cooking!" Lin Zhou said with a laugh as he shooed the children back to the village.
The cart slowly swayed to the foot of Lin'an City. Just then, the soldiers guarding the city were changing shifts, and a few ruffians who had just finished their shifts strolled over and expertly lifted the lid of the wooden bucket containing the flatbread on Lin Zhou's cart.
"Hey kid Lin, why are you so late today? We're all starving!" one soldier complained, rubbing his stomach.
Lin Zhou immediately put on a professional fake smile, bowing and scraping: "Sorry, gentlemen, something came up at home and I'm late. I'll cook you some hot soup noodles right away!"
He deftly started a fire, set up the pot, and added water. The early winter evening breeze carried a chill, and the soldiers rubbed their hands and stamped their feet, eagerly surrounding the large pot that was beginning to steam.
Once the water boils, the noodles are added, topped with sliced ham, and sprinkled with a concentrated seasoning packet. Instantly, a powerful, modern, industrially-infused aroma bursts forth, overpowering the smells of all the surrounding food stalls.
In Lin'an, a city known for its bland cuisine, Lin Zhou's "heavy-flavored" instant noodles were a game-changer. Even the soldiers who usually bossed around vendors had to be polite to him—after all, if they scared away this one-of-a-kind stall owner, where would they find such cheap and flavorful hot soup noodles on such a cold day? It had oil, salt, and meat, and only cost three coins a bowl.
The soldiers, some squatting and some standing, ate with gusto, sweating profusely, and even drank the last drop of soup from their bowls.
"Sigh, why haven't the military salaries been paid this year yet? They should have been in our hands by now in previous years." A leader wearing a small leather cap muttered as he ate.
"Hmph, why? All the money's going to the Jurchens as tribute! Two hundred and fifty thousand taels of silver and two hundred and fifty thousand bolts of silk every year! It's fucking absurd!" A soldier next to him spat angrily, "Back in the day, when I followed Marshal Yue..."
"Shut up!" The leader's expression changed, and he interrupted sharply.
Realizing his slip of the tongue, the soldier quickly slapped his mouth and sheepishly approached Lin Zhou's pot: "Brother Lin, another...another bowl!"
"Okay, almost done!"
Lin Zhou worked tirelessly, scooping noodles and adding broth with practiced ease. Seeing this, the other soldiers also cried out for more noodles.
The foreman dawdled until the very end before finally approaching Lin Zhou. His expression was somewhat unnatural, and he lowered his voice, saying, "Brother Lin, could we put the bowls of soup noodles the brothers ate today on credit? Our pay hasn't come through yet, and we're all a bit short on cash."
Lin Zhou paused slightly, then his smile widened even more: "Sir, you're too kind! If it weren't for your help the other day, I would have been utterly bullied by those thugs. A few bowls of noodles are nothing! Please, everyone, it's all on me today!"
"That won't do!" A soldier who came regularly came over with a bowl of noodle soup. "You can take advantage of others, but not yours! Your soup noodles are substantial, oily, and filling! They're so much cheaper than the mutton noodles in the city, it'll definitely be a loss if you keep them on credit. If you go bankrupt from this, the brothers will have a really tough time this winter."
"Haha, all thanks to you gentlemen, I've managed to make a living!"
Although he could keep accounts, soldiers who were really broke would offer small items as payment, such as pretty stones they found or homemade bamboo or wooden swords, which Lin Zhou accepted without question. Those who were a little better off would buy some "rare items" from him—the most popular being the soft, white straw paper.
This stuff costs just a few cents a roll on Pinduoduo, but it's a hot commodity here. These days, ordinary people mostly use bamboo strips or leaves to wipe their bottoms, so this soft, absorbent toilet paper is a revolutionary experience. Lin Zhou sells it cheaply; you can buy a thick stack for a dollar. As he puts it, if you're well-fed up, you can't be too stingy down there.
The stalls were bustling with activity when suddenly a commotion broke out in the city. A group of men rushed out aggressively, checking the tax certificates of each stall along the city gate. Those without certificates had their goods confiscated.
The group quickly arrived at Lin Zhou's stall. The leader, a tall, dark-skinned man nicknamed "Black Panther" Xu Shang, was known for his ruthless methods and was specifically in charge of small vendors like them.
Xu Shang coldly swept his gaze over Lin Zhou, said nothing, and simply extended his hand.
Lin Zhou smiled but remained calm, taking a small paper packet from his pocket and handing it over, lowering his voice: "Brother Xu's request has been prepared long ago. This is a five-day supply, twice a day, just take it with warm water."
Xu Shang took the packet of montmorillonite powder, weighed it in his hand, and surprisingly, he grunted "hmm" for the first time. He then casually tossed down three large coins, turned around, and left with his men.
The surroundings fell silent for a moment.
All the stall owners who witnessed this scene were stunned, staring at Lin Zhou in disbelief.
Xu Shang, the Black Panther, actually paid for the item?!