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

Chapter 133 Five-cent pliers sever the skeleton of a South Sea corpse; the shattered bronze plate forces the Shen family to retreat.

"Even someone with a meager life can compete with hard-earned goods from Southeast Asia."

As soon as Tieguai Li finished speaking, the white bone at the street corner was dragged out of the lamplight.

The bone was connected to an iron wire, which was ridiculously thick, just like a brake cable taken from a car repair shop. The outer skin was peeled off, and black oil dripped down the seams.

Oil droplets fell onto the blue bricks, sizzling and bubbling, with fishy white foam crawling along the cracks between the bricks.

Han Shaobai took a half step back while holding the account book, and Tang Wanqing stuck a silver needle into the toe of his shoe.

"stop!"

Han Shaobai pulled his heel back and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"I... I'll make room for the red stamp."

Tong Kexin unscrewed the small aluminum kettle, and the steam from the hot soup rose up along with the lamplight.

The first puppet corpse was fully exposed, a size larger than the previous three iron wire puppet corpses. Its chest cavity was sunken, its ribs were protruding, and pale bone fragments were sticking out from its flesh, protecting its joints and the back of its neck.

The skull fragments covered the third cervical vertebra, leaving not a single thread exposed.

Tieguai Li used the tip of his tongue to push away the ink residue from between his teeth.

"Huh~ You're even putting a neck brace on yourself?"

Cheng Xiaojin squatted by the blue bricks, his ear tilted half an inch to the side.

"Shen Jiulou is afraid you'll cut it."

"He's quite vengeful—"

"You ruined three pairs of pliers with five cents; anyone would remember that."

The second body emerged from the shadows of the side shop, and the third body stepped on the broken wheels of a paper cart. Its feet landed, and the wet paper was crushed into the cracks between the bricks, with a line of black blood squeezing out.

The willow-lined door made two clicking sounds.

Shen Jiulou's laughter emanated from the puppet's chest cavity, hollow and muffled, with the final note carrying the metallic sound of a bronze plate.

"Cheng Xiaojin, you've exhausted all your resources."

Cheng Xiaojin took the cigarette from behind his ear, but didn't light it; he just held it in his mouth.

"Come again if you've had enough, Boss Shen has a heavy taste."

A metallic voice echoed from the puppet's chest cavity.

"Red stamp".

Han Shaobai hugged the ledger tightly, the red stamp tucked under his elbow.

"The stamps from Boguzhai are not available on credit."

Tieguai Li glanced at him and asked, "Who almost got thrown out just now?"

That's called risk assessment.

Shen Jiulou did not respond to that sentence.

"The Cheng family's hands are almost ruined."

"The Liu family's door is almost falling apart."

"6

"The stamp of Boguzhai is also cracked."

The third puppet lifted its foot, creating a pit in the blue brick, and Old Ash jumped onto the base of the eighth lamp.

Xiaoxing used a dumpling wrapper to prop up the lamp base, preventing the lamp from tilting.

Tong Kexin tapped her long spoon on the ground, saying, "The food is still warm."

Shen Jiulou said, "The food will get cold."

Tong Kexin replied quickly.

"Even a bronze plate can break!"

There was a moment of silence inside the door. Cheng Xiaojin smiled, the cigarette paper frayed from being bitten.

"Was that a direct hit to the heart, or to the lungs?"

The first puppet corpse moved, heading straight for Han Shaobai, its iron wires dragging on the ground, the three sounds overlapping.

Thick threads connect to the joints, thin threads connect to the chest cavity, and deep inside there is another small thread that makes a soft sound, hidden in the hollow of the bone.

Tieguai Li, carrying a pair of pliers, rushed forward and clamped the jaws onto the back of his neck.

Click! The pliers slid open—

The bone fragments were coated with black oil and bone meal, and the pincers couldn't grip them.

Tieguai Li cursed, pushed his prosthetic leg forward, used his shoulder for leverage, and pressed the clamps down again.

The puppet's arm swept across.

Tieguai Li blocked with his prosthetic leg, but was swept back three steps, his heels leaving two gray marks on the blue bricks.

Han Shao's face turned pale. "Brother Li! ————"

Tieguai Li spat out the blood foam from his mouth.

"It's not time to mourn yet."

Tang Wanqing flicked out the red thread, the end of which passed through three large coins and stopped in front of the second puppet corpse's knees.

The moment the red thread touched the bone fragment, it hissed and smoked, the black oil on the edge of the bone fragment swallowing half an inch of the thread.

Tang Wanqing flipped her wrist, but was a beat too slow to reel in the thread. Two strands of the thread broke off and were burnt when she pulled it back.

She ran her fingertip across the edge of the silver needle box, leaving blood on the rim.

"Even with a curse oil, the red thread cannot stay."

Tong Kexin picked up the small aluminum kettle.

"Can Old Tang die?"

Cheng Xiaojin did not answer.

He tapped the ground with the tip of his shoe, listening intently as the first puppet corpse stepped down.

Thump! My knees are empty—

Thump! My abdomen is empty now —

Thump! There was a faint sound from below the third rib in my chest. The copper wire touched the bone, made a sound, and then retracted into the flesh.

Shen Jiulou opened the cavity in the puppet corpse's chest.

"Still listening to the back of the neck?"

Cheng Xiaojin took the cigarette away.

"Let Brother Li warm up the back of my neck."

Tieguai Li was taken aback.

"Does that 'warm-up' count as me getting hit?"

"You're thick-skinned."

"You really know how to take care of your brothers."

Cheng Xiaojin pressed the tip of his shoe against a piece of wet paper, squeezing out a little bit of black liquid.

"Three ribs on the chest, one inch to the left."

Tang Wanqing looked over.

"Main storyline?"

Cheng Xiaojin nodded.

"Voice transmission cable".

Tieguai Li stared at the chest of the puppet corpse.

It was full of rotten skin and bone fragments, with iron wire sewn between the ribs, the ends of the wires like grass roots stuck into the flesh.

"This is delicate work."

Cheng Xiaojin said, "You know how to repair watches."

"I repair old wall clocks."

"They all make a sound."

Tieguai Li put the broken-mouth pliers back into his waist and reached out to remove the prosthetic leg.

Click, click—the outer shell of the prosthesis was disassembled, revealing a section of alloy steel pipe inside.

He twisted it with a wrench, removed it, and held it in his hand.

Han Shaobai stared in disbelief.

"Brother Li, do you still have more stuff hidden in your legs?"

Tieguai Li weighed the steel pipe in his hand.

"When poor people go out, they have to use their legs for two purposes."

Shen Jiulou's voice rang out simultaneously from the chests of the three puppet corpses.

"Prying open bones?"

"You think you can fix a broken door?"

Tieguai Li (Iron-Crutch Li) stands horizontally on a steel pipe.

"I'm very familiar with breaking down doors."

The first puppet corpse lunged at Han Shaobai, taking three steps in front of him.

Han Shaobai didn't run away.

He held the account book, pursed his lips twice, and then opened his mouth.

"Boguzhai's night market dinner bill: Aunt Wang's 16 steamers of buns, Grandpa Li's 9 bowls of fried liver, He Xiulan's mutton soup pot returned to Sun Xiaoxing, and Sun Daqiang's bill is still outstanding."

The faint sound from the puppet's chest cavity stopped for a moment.

It heard the expense report being processed.

Shen Jiulou used his chest cavity to judge people, and Han Shaobai's shout stuffed the living person's tent into it, causing the puppet corpse's shoulder to shift half an inch.

Tieguai Li seized the half-inch, and inserted the steel pipe into the rib gap of the puppet corpse.

Oops!

The puppet corpse raised its hand, its fingers wrapped with iron wire, and reached for the back of Tieguai Li's head.

Tong Kexin picked up the old enamel basin.

Half a basin of boiling broth sloshed around in the bowl, with thick oil floating on the surface and a strong salty smell.

"Move aside, Old Li."

Tieguai Li twisted his waist, and the puppet's hand brushed past his ear.

Tong Kexin poured a pot of old soup onto the puppet corpse's knees.

Hot oil clung to the seams of the bone fragments, salt seeped in, and the black oil bubbled white from the heat.

The wire twitched twice at the back of the knee and got stuck.

The puppet's body tilted slightly.

Tieguai Li pushed the steel pipe in.

Snap! A crack appeared in the third rib.

Inside, a black iron wire about the thickness of a chopstick was visible, with thin copper wire wrapped around it, and red ink was still stuck to the copper wire.

Han Shaobai's eyes widened.

"My inkpad?"

Cheng Xiaojin said, "I just stole half a bite."

Han Shaobai crumpled the edges of the account book.

"Stealing ancestral red seals to sew corpses—that's a dirty business."

Tieguai Li picked up the pliers and inserted the jaws into the bone crevice.

Shen Jiulou's laughter came from inside the puppet's chest cavity.

"Can it hold?"

The copper wire in the bone crevice retracted.

The jaws missed.

The second puppet corpse crashed in from the side.

Tang Wanqing's red thread was broken in half, so she could only use a silver needle to seal the crack in the blue brick in front of its feet.

The silver needle penetrates half an inch into the brick, and the needle tip turns red.

"quick!"

Zhou Banxian slammed the compass to the ground, and the needle began to wobble wildly.

"The third shadow circled the lamp, then rushed toward the ninth lamp."

Xiao Xing, holding the steamed bun and key, stood beside the ninth lamp.

The lamplight illuminated her shadow.

The nail's shadow peeked out a little more from beneath it.

He Xiulan's red-clad figure emerged from the mutton soup pot, a dark mark appearing on her neck, the soup still intact.

Cheng Xiaojin turned his head.

"Xiao Xing, don't turn on the light."

Xiaoxing nodded, "Okay! I won't move."

Tong Kexin picked up a spoon and was about to go over when Cheng Xiaojin called her back.

"Kexin, the second basin, pour it on the ground."

Which one?

"It stands on blue bricks."

Tong Kexin understood.

The second puppet corpse used the iron wire on the ground for leverage. Old Tang poured bones, jammed the joints, poured water on the ground, and then used the iron wire to cover it.

She placed the small aluminum kettle on the blue brick, the spout tilted, and the hot soup spread along the brick seam and seeped under the iron wire.

The iron wire dragged across the soup noodles, carrying oil and salt, and the sound immediately became harsh.

The second puppet was a beat slower, and Tang Wanqing used her silver needles three times to reconnect the red thread to the coin's eye.

"Han Shaobai, read the account."

Han Shaobai was taken aback.

"Still missing it?"

Cheng Xiaojin said, "The more vulgar it is, the more chaotic it becomes."

"6

Han Shaobai took a breath and tapped the ledger with his pen.

"Aunt Wang's steamed bun wrapper is half a piece. The creditor is Cheng Xiaojin. I'll write it down for now and not chase it."

Cheng Xiaojin glared at him.

"Who told you to memorize this?"

"You just asked me to write this down."

Tieguai Li thrust his pliers into the bone crevice again, cursing, "Nian Shen Jiulou is a bad debtor."

Han Shaobai immediately took a breath.

"Shen Jiulou attempted to steal half a mouthful of red inkpad, but failed. He owes Boguzhai an apology and Liulichang thirty-six □ of food."

""

The copper wire in the chest cavity of the first puppet corpse stopped again.

Cheng Xiaojin heard it.

The main thread trembled in the sound of the tent flap, like a fingernail snapping a thread.

Shen Jiulou was far away at Deshengmen, using a copper plate to control the corpse and suppress sound. If the chest cavity line became disordered, he would be distracted.

"Brother Li, don't chase the line."

Tieguai Li gritted his teeth.

"Then what are we chasing?"

"Ink paste".

Tieguai Li tilted his jaws and clamped down on the red inkpad.

The ink was so hot that the pliers were smoking. He used his prosthetic knee to brace the pliers handles, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged.

"Han Shaobai, criticize his cooking skills."

Han Shaobai spoke without hesitation.

"Shen Jiulou, you shoddy workmanship with this puppet corpse. The stitching on its chest looks like the tattered ledger in my warehouse."

Cheng Xiaojin added a sentence.

"Don't waste the warehouse."

"Shen Jiulou, your Nanyang copper plate is not as smooth as Grandpa Li's spatula."

Grandpa Li called from behind.

"Write this down; you owe me a reputational debt for using a spatula."

Inside the puppet's chest cavity, Shen Jiulou's voice trailed off, mingling with the clanging of the copper plate.

"Quarrel----"

Cheng Xiaojin grinned.

"If you find eating in Beijing noisy, go back to Southeast Asia and live in a cemetery."

Tieguai Li twisted his wrist.

Click! The red inkpad, along with the copper wire, was pulled out half an inch.

The main wire was revealed; the black iron wire pressed against the jaws of the pliers, its surface covered in fine bone powder, crumbling as soon as it was clamped.

Tieguai Li changed his posture, the pliers gripped the steel pipe of the prosthetic leg, and he sank down.

"Five cents, just to prove a point."

*Snap!* The main voice cut off.

The chest of the first puppet corpse collapsed.

It didn't fall; the black iron wire was still inside the bone fragments. It lunged forward, its hands grabbing at Han Shaobai.

Tang Wanqing pulled the red thread, and the money net blocked Han Shaobai's way.

Tong Kexin stretched out a long spoon and smeared the old soup oil from the bottom of the spoon on the broken thread.

Smoke hissed from the broken wire, the puppet corpse's knees buckled, and it half-knelt on the ground, exhaling a breath of black gas from its chest.

Han Shaobai's legs trembled, and he held the account book high.

"Received".

Tieguai Li raised his foot and kicked his shin.

"Don't be like a paper doll."

Cheng Xiaojin didn't laugh.

His ear turned toward the broken main line.

The wire broke, but the echo of the copper disc still lingered inside.

A thin stream retreated along the wire towards the street corner.

Shen Jiulou did not completely break off the connection.

He was reeling in the line.

"Don't throw it away."

Just as Tieguai Li was about to break the string, he stopped.

"Keep it?"

"requite."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at Tong Kexin.

"Hot porridge."

Aunt Wang immediately shouted, "There's millet porridge on the side of the steamed bun stall's pot, and it's burnt to the bottom."

Cheng Xiaojin nodded, "It's going to be a complete disaster."

Tong Kexin had already brought over half a basin of hot porridge. The porridge was thick, the bottom of the pot had a slightly burnt aroma, the rice grains were cracked, and there was a smell of burnt rice in the steam.

She placed the basin near Tieguai Li's feet. "Where should I water it?"

"Don't touch the corpse with the loose thread."

Tieguai Li pulled the broken thread out more than a foot, and the end of the thread was still twitching.

Tong Kexin poured half a spoonful of hot porridge down, and the porridge coated the iron wire, allowing the heat to seep into the seam.

The echoes from the copper pan immediately became chaotic, and Cheng Xiaojin looked at Grandpa Li's stir-fried liver pot.

"Could I borrow the pot handle?"

Grandpa Li pushed the pot forward.

"Don't break it, we'll be setting up our stall again tomorrow."

Tieguai Li grabbed a handful of scrap wire and wrapped the broken wire around the handle of the frying pan.

The wire was leftover from cutting the puppet corpse earlier; it was stained with old brine, ink, and stove ash, so dirty that its original color was unrecognizable.

Cheng Xiaojin said, "Knock."

This time, the neighbors didn't need to ask; Aunt Wang was tapping the steamer lid, and Grandpa Li was tapping the edge of the pot.

Glasses King pulled a broken copper gong from the entrance of Boguzhai, and just as he raised it, Cheng Xiaojin shouted.

"Put down the gong."

The man with glasses quickly withdrew his hand.

"Then what should I type?"

Tieguai Li threw half a wooden stool leg over.

"Knock on the door frame."

The man with glasses hugged the wooden stool leg and banged it against the door frame repeatedly.

Han Shaobai tapped the ledger with his pen and read rapidly.

"Aunt Wang's steamed buns have been paid for, Uncle Li's fried liver has been paid for, Xiao Xing's mealtime is for Xiao Xing, He Xiulan's mutton soup pot and rice are not moved, Shen Jiulou's attempt to steal inkpad has failed, and Lin Huai Ren's collection of bad debts is still unsettled."

Cheng Xiaojin listened to the broken wire.

The noise from the street followed the broken wire.

At first, the sound was faint, but as soon as the porridge steamed, the old broth oil moistened it, and the soot from the pot blocked it, the sound became rougher.

There was no incense table, no talismans, and no precious ritual implements.

A broken iron wire, a half-filled bowl of porridge, a wok of fried liver, and a group of vendors banging away until their hands ache.

But when the voice came through the line, it carried the smell of food, the heat of cursing, and the lingering energy of people in Liulichang who had been tormented by the Seventh Gate half the night.

The second puppet corpse rushed behind Tieguai Li. Tang Wanqing had already used up most of her silver needles, and the red thread had broken in two.

"later."

Tieguai Li did not turn around.

Tong Kexin tossed out a spoonful of soup, the soup stream grazing past his shoulder and landing on the elbow joint of the second puppet corpse.

The bone fragments started smoking, slowing the movement by half a breath.

Cheng Xiaojin lifted his foot and stepped on the blue brick next to the broken line. He didn't touch the line, but his shoe sole was on the brick, and Xin Jinqi felt a little lower.

Tang Wanqing's face darkened.

"Cheng Xiaojin".

Cheng Xiaojin bit down on the cigarette.

"a little."

"This is the most expensive item you have."

The faint metallic energy from the sole of his shoe didn't go towards the corpse, but instead burrowed into the old rust on the outer layer of the iron wire. The old rust was agitated, and the echo inside the wire shone brightly, just like the old copper basin being knocked over by chopsticks.

At the other end of Desheng Gate, the bronze plate was taken over.

Cheng Xiaojin had been waiting for this moment.

"Pay attention to the key points."

Tong Kexin turned her head and called out.

"Haven't you eaten yet?"

Aunt Wang was the first to step up her efforts.

She banged on the lid of the steamer basket.

"Shen Jiulou, you can't even steal a proper steamed bun wrapper, yet you're trying to set up a scheme?"

Grandpa Li tapped the edge of the pot with his spatula.

"You owe me money for my reputation as a liver fryer."

Han Shaobai slammed the account book down with a loud thud.

"Received, received. Shen Jiulou now owes Liulichang a favor."

Xiao Xing also raised her hand and gently tapped the lamp base next to the steamed bun key.

The sound was faint, but it went into the line.

Inside He Xiulan's mutton soup pot, a figure in red bowed her head, her long hair clinging to the edge of the pot.

The bottom of the pot simmers for a moment, and the steam from the cooked rice enters the pot.

A cacophony of noise erupted in Cheng Xiaojin's ears.

He heard the sound of water flowing through the culvert at Deshengmen.

I heard the edge of the copper plate turning.

I heard someone sitting in front of the plate, their fingertips touching the rim, their nails neatly trimmed, their fingers free of the grime of the marketplace, only the scent of sandalwood and the stench of copper.

That person should stop.

It's too late — Cheng Xiaojin's shoe tip pressed down halfway.

"Give it to him."

Tieguai Li twisted the handle of the stir-fry pan, and the broken wire tightened.

Tong Kexin poured the last half spoonful of hot porridge onto the thread, and the sounds of pots and pans echoed through the street as the porridge spilled out along the thread.

For the first time, Shen Jiulou's voice inside the puppet's chest cavity became disordered.

"Cheng Xiaojin, can I borrow your cable?"

Cheng Xiaojin, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, mumbled, "The cable was a gift from you."

A crisp sound came from the other side of Desheng Gate.

The sound returned from the depths of the broken wire, and the copper plate cracked for the first time.

Shen Jiulou immediately switched lines.

The iron wires on the second puppet body were all taut, as if they were about to be pulled back after breaking.

Tieguai Li's prosthetic leg got stuck in the brick pit. He grabbed the steel pipe with both hands and pushed his shoulders and back backward.

"Tug-of-war, let's go!"

The third puppet corpse has already circled around to the ninth lamp.

Xiaoxing stood in front of the lamp, her steamed bun and key pressed against her chest.

The puppet corpse raised its foot, the bone fragments on its soles about to step on the lamplight.

Tong Kexin couldn't make it there in time.

Tang Wanqing cast out the last red thread, which passed by Xiao Xing's feet, wrapped around the lamp base, and dragged the lamp back half an inch.

The red thread broke, and Tang Wanqing's palm was cut and bled.

Xiao Xing didn't cry.

She held the steamed bun key up to the light.

"It's my mom's stall, I'm not giving it to you."

The third puppet corpse's feet veered off course.

He Xiulan's red-clad shadow at the edge of the pot looked up, steam rising from the mutton soup pot. It crawled over along the ground and wrapped itself around the puppet's ankle.

Tieguai Li roared as he pulled on the broken wire.

"Han Shaobai, the tent."

Han Shaobai's face flushed red as he opened the account book, his pen striking the cover.

"Seventh Gate Nightclub, thirty-six mouths to feed, nine nightlights, seven transactions, people here, food here, bills here, Shen Jiulou, you're kidding me!"

The last four words were shouted so loudly that the neighbors dropped their pots and pans.

A second crisp sound echoed from the broken wire, the sound of the copper plate shattering into pieces, clearly transmitted back through the wire.

Cheng Xiaojin heard the copper fragments scrape against the stone surface.

There was another short, muffled groan; Shen Jiulou was injured.

The first puppet corpse completely fell apart, its ribs falling off one by one.

The second puppet, having lost its main plate, twisted its joints haphazardly and tripped over itself in front of the fried liver stall.

The third puppet corpse was still standing on the edge of the lamplight when the copper wire in its chest snapped, and its body fell forward.

Tieguai Li lunged forward and knocked it aside with his shoulder.

The puppet corpse landed two inches from the ninth lamp, and the lamp flickered three times but did not go out.

The steaming bun key in Xiaoxing's hand was emitting white steam, so she bent down and blew on it.

"It's still lit up."

Tong Kexin ran over and pulled her into her arms.

"You're really bold."

Xiao Xing whispered, "I didn't step on the shadow."

Tong Kexin's lips moved slightly, but she only used her sleeve to wipe the dust off her face.

Tang Wanqing walked up to Cheng Xiaojin, grabbed his wrist, and saw that the dark blue color under the bandage had climbed up another half inch, with a cold blue tinge around the wrist bone.

She inserted the silver needle, and Cheng Xiaojin's finger twitched.

"Say it nicely."

Tang Wanqing pressed down on the end of the needle.

"This little bit of yours is enough for three doses of medicine."

Cheng Xiaojin sniffed.

"Recorded in Han Shaobai's account."

Han Shaobai was panting as he held the account book.

"On what grounds?"

"You were the loudest, so that counts as overtime."

Tieguai Li sat on the ground, his prosthetic joints still smoking.

He picked up the pliers and looked at them; the jaws were wide open, and the edges were covered with black iron powder from the puppet's chest cavity.

"These pliers should be returned."

Cheng Xiaojin took a look.

"Enshrine it."

Tieguai Li was amused.

"Where to supply?"

"At the entrance of Boguzhai, there's a sign that says, '50 cents a haircut, money back guaranteed if you're from Southeast Asia.'"

Han Shaobai was coughing and panting, but he still answered the question.

"If this sign is hung on my front door, my dad will beat me."

"Your dad is still alive."

"Then you can draw even more smoothly."

Someone on the street chuckled twice, then quickly stopped.

Through the crack in the door of the willow shop, Liu Bai leaned out half an inch, propping himself up against the door frame.

His face was bloodless, his fingernails were split in two, and the bluish-white light behind the door was biting into his waist.

"The bronze plate is broken."

Zhou Banxian put the compass to his ear and listened. The needle finally stopped pointing towards Liupu, turned north, and shook a few times.

"Deshengmen has been vacated."

Han Shaobai sat down on the ground.

"Refunded?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the three scattered puppet corpses.

"The plate is broken, the thread is snapped, he can't handle this kind of talk tonight."

Tieguai Li used a steel pipe to poke at the puppet corpse's sternum.

Can bone fragments be sold as scrap?

Tong Kexin slapped it with the handle of a spoon.

"You dare pick one up and see what happens."

Tieguai Li stopped.

"Ask them, they're used to being poor."

Tang Wanqing put away the broken red thread and picked out the half that was still usable.

"The bone fragments need to be burned."

Zhou Banxian said, "You can't burn it at the street corner, the smoke will seep through the cracks in the door."

Cheng Xiaojin pointed to the bottom of Grandpa Li's stove.

"Bury it in a layer of soot, then pour in a layer of broth, let it sit, and move it again at dawn."

Grandpa Li looked at his own stir-fried liver pot, the handle still wrapped with broken iron wire, a dark, murky mess.

"Will I still be able to sell this stir-fried liver tomorrow?"

Cheng Xiaojin said, "Yes."

Grandpa Li breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's fine then."

Cheng Xiaojin added a sentence.

"Price increases are pre-labeled."

Grandpa Li immediately started cursing.

"You're a better bargainer than a devil."

The neighbors started cleaning up.

Aunt Wang opened the steamer lid, and the black wooden splinter with the character "Shen" on it at the bottom had been suffocated by the steam and turned into soft crumbs.

She wrapped it in a dumpling wrapper and threw it into the stove ashes.

Han Shaobai squatted down beside him, taking notes.

"Aunt Wang's steamer lid is broken."

Aunt Wang looked up.

"Who says it's wasteful? You can wash it and then steam it."

Han Shaobai stopped writing.

"Write depreciation?"

Tieguai Li said, "Write down the merits."

Han Shaobai nodded seriously and changed two words.

"Aunt Wang's steamer lid has done a great job."

Cheng Xiaojin walked to the first puppet corpse, but didn't touch it. He just squatted down and listened to the remaining echoes in the sternum.

Even after the bronze plate shattered, echoes still lingered within it.

The agarwood scent has faded.

The coppery smell had also faded.

There was also a soft sound of water coming from the north, mixed with the smell of mud from the base of the old city wall.

Shen Jiulou was not ruined.

He simply withdrew the plate.

Cheng Xiaojin tapped the blue brick twice with the tip of his shoe.

Liu Bai looked at him.

"What did you hear?"

"Deshengmen Dark Ditch"

"besides?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked up.

"Wooden box".

Liu Bai gripped the door frame with his fingertips.

The bluish-white light inside the door contracted slightly.

"The box was opened?"

"Not open."

Cheng Xiaojin stared at the entrance of the alley to the north.

"Something inside grabbed the box board."

Zhou Banxian bit the tobacco pipe stem.

"Who are we going to talk to about this?"

Cheng Xiaojin did not answer.

A final, lingering sound suddenly emerged from the broken wire.

The lingering sound of the shattered copper plate scraped across the handle of the stir-fry pan, as fine as copper shavings falling into water.

Shen Jiulou's voice had lost its initial steadiness, and the ending notes were tinged with blood.

"Cheng Xiaojin".

The neighbors stopped what they were doing.

Tieguai Li picked up the steel pipe.

Tong Kexin held the long spoon horizontally.

Tang Wanqing held the silver needle between her fingers.

Cheng Xiaojin didn't move.

"explain."

Shen Jiulou chuckled, and the copper plate trembled with a crackling sound.

"I don't want the red stamp anymore."

Han Shaobai immediately stuffed the account book into his arms.

"If you don't want it, I won't give it to you."

Shen Jiulou ignored him.

"Your father is not dead."

The cigarette that was near Cheng Xiaojin's mouth stopped.

Shen Jiulou's voice trailed off along the broken line, carrying the muffled force of words thrown out from a deep well.

"Twenty years."

"He's been in the City of Shadows all along."

"You're guarding the ashtray, too afraid to turn it on."

"He's underground, waiting for you to bring the nail in."

The wire snapped and burned out.

Only a piece of black ash remained on the handle of the frying pan.

No one on the street made a sound.

The ninth lamp's flame rose an inch higher before falling back down to the wick.

Han Shaobai's pen fell onto the ledger, leaving a black dot.

Tieguai Li looked at Cheng Xiaojin.

Tong Kexin also looked at him.

Tang Wanqing didn't look at his face, but stared at his hands hanging by his sides.

Cheng Xiaojin took the half-smoked cigarette out of his mouth.

The cigarette paper was already wet.

He glanced at it, then tucked it back behind his ear.

"Young Bai".

Han Shaobai quickly looked up.

"Brother Cheng?"

"Keep accounts."

Han Shaobai was stunned.

"What should I remember?"

Cheng Xiaojin stood up, his shoes gliding over the broken thread dust, preventing it from getting on the edges of the medicine cloth.

"Shen Jiulou's bronze plate, broken."

"Three skeletons from Southeast Asia, discarded."

"A pair of five-cent pliers, and it's done a great job."

He paused, then looked up towards Panjiayuan.

"Cheng Shouyi's statement in Yin City is half true and half false."

Han Shaobai's throat moved twice, and he picked up a pen to write.

"How can something that's half-true and half-false be recorded?"

Cheng Xiaojin twitched the corner of his mouth.

"Hanging."

Tieguai Li put the steel pipe back into the prosthesis, but his hand was a beat slow in tightening the screw.

"Back to the hospital?"

Cheng Xiaojin nodded.

"Return."

Tong Kexin picked up the old soup pot.

"What about Liulichang?"

Liu Bai spoke through the crack in the door.

"The nightlights cannot be removed, and the food should continue to be provided."

Aunt Wang rolled up her sleeves.

"Fine, I'll stay. I'll sleep next to the steamer tonight."

Grandpa Li straightened the wok used for frying liver.

"The pot handle has already done a great job, why should I remove it?"

Xiao Xing, holding the steamed bun and key, stood beside the ninth lamp.

"I will keep watch over the lamp."

Tong Kexin squatted down to look at her.

"Stay until we come back, and call Aunt Wang if you get tired."

Xiaoxing nodded.

The red figure in He Xiulan's pot sank down, while the soup steamed steadily.

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at the pot but didn't say anything.

He turned and walked towards the street corner.

Tieguai Li followed, dragging his toolbox. The old wrench at the bottom of the box clattered against the blue bricks, making a series of thumping sounds.

Han Shaobai held the account book, with the red stamp tucked inside. He took a few steps and looked back at the Boguzhai plaque.

"Brother Cheng, shall I go too?"

"If you don't go, Shen Jiulou will steal your stamp again next time."

Han Shaobai immediately followed.

"Then I'll go."

Tang Wanqing walked beside Cheng Xiaojin, her silver needle box tightly fastened.

"Go back and soak your feet in the medicinal bath."

Cheng Xiaojin said, "Let's listen to the ashtray first."

"no."

"I'll listen."

"You mentioned something earlier too."

Tong Kexin chimed in from behind.

"Go back to the hospital, take your medicine, and then listen to the doctor."

She shook her long spoon.

"If you dare touch the ashtray, I'll smash a braised pot over your head."

Cheng Xiaojin turned to look at her.

"That pot is quite expensive."

"Cheaper than your head."

Tieguai Li nodded.

"I accept this debt."

The wind at the alley entrance blew the cooking fumes from Liulichang backwards.

The lights of the seventh gate remained in the street, one by one, their yellow glow glaringly bright.

Cheng Xiaojin stepped out of the lamplight and glanced back at Liupu.

Liu Bai was half-embedded in the doorway, his face appearing cold in the pale light.

His fingertips were still pressed against the door frame, the blood and ashes mixed into a thin line, slowly flowing down.

Liu Bai said, "Cheng Xiaojin."

Cheng Xiaojin stopped.

"Shen Jiulou is backing out tonight not because he's afraid of you."

"I know."

"He fears that people's hearts will be pierced by reality."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at him.

"Are you scared too?"

Liu Bai did not answer.

The wooden plaque in the crack of the door rattled softly, and someone inside was scratching at the old door with their fingernails.

Cheng Xiaojin smiled.

"become."

"Be afraid, that's all."

"I'm going back to see how much trouble my dad has left me."