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

Chapter 145 Tea Mug Covered with Name Card, Severing Yin Account; Scrap Iron Cuts Off Water Gate, Breaking the Sinking Situation

The coin in Cheng Xiaojin's palm dug into his flesh, leaving a white mark on the edge. He didn't let go, but instead brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth and spoke to block out the static in the channel.

"Master Ma, don't touch the invitation. Nobody in the courtyard should touch it. Anything stuck in the doorway isn't considered a guest. If no one accepts the invitation, it's just a one-sided price demand, and the property won't be transferred."

Han Shaobai held the account book, the pen tip hovering above the car hood, ink dripping out a tiny black dot, which he quickly raised again.

"Brother Cheng, it's buying your product, can I write that I won't sell it?"

"Don't act as my landlord. My name isn't listed on the Boguzhai consignment shop yet."

Cheng Xiaojin was being sarcastic, but his left hand hung by his side, his five fingers curled inside the cloth of medicine, the blue thread pulsating through the cloth, and Tang Wanqing's silver needle was pressed against his shoulder, the needle tip penetrating half an inch into the fabric.

"Cheng Xiaojin, if you dare touch Huijing, I'll knock you out right now."

"Dr. Tang, have some medical ethics. I haven't even touched you yet."

"Your eyes are already wandering towards the north of the city."

Tong Kexin braced the curved spoon against the ground, leaving a ring of black watermarks on the spoon head. She didn't look at Cheng Xiaojin, but stared at the walkie-talkie.

"Master Ma, listen to him. Don't talk to him, don't ask about the price, and don't curse. Shen Jiulou is the best at finding a way to get into conversation."

The sound of a chair leg scraping against the blue bricks came from the other end of the walkie-talkie, and the hollow sound in the old courtyard came out along with the electric current. The people under the Deshengmen Bridge fell silent.

I won't touch it.

Master Ma's throat was dry. He picked up the lid of the teacup, put it back on the rim, and tapped it lightly twice.

"The paper under the threshold is still trying to get in; the ink is floating on the paper, searching for the nose and eyes of a living person."

Tieguai Li, carrying the chipped steel pipe, looked back at the black water shrinking back into the bridge arch, his cursing sound stuck between his teeth.

"Before he even closed up shop at Deshengmen, he went to Mayeyuan to set up a stall and start buying things."

Upon hearing the word "acquisition," Han Shaobai clutched the ledger even tighter.

"Its price is a nail in the coffin, but who's going to pay that price?"

Cheng Xiaojin held the walkie-talkie close to his ear. There was a sound of water bubbles bursting from the direction of the gray well in the yard. The red smoke didn't rush over, but it did lift up the moisture from the cracks in the well bricks.

He didn't use Xin Jin; he just bit off a bit of dead skin on the tip of his right finger. The pain made him much clearer-headed.

"To buy a name, you need proof, an account, a red seal, the full name; the price is just a hook."

Han Shaobai's lips moved, but he swallowed his words back.

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the page in the ledger where the name was not for sale. The metal plate with the character "路" was stuck behind the paper, and the edge of the paper was slowly getting wet.

Hook me.

Tang Wanqing pushed the needle forward a little, and the skin and flesh under the medicated cloth tightened.

Cheng Xiaojin flipped the coin onto the back of his finger, rubbed the moisture off his fingertip, revealing a ring of red clay residue.

"The nail in my father's heart is being used as a bargaining chip to force me to accept this deal. If I accept it, he can use my name to go to my father, and he can also use my father's nail to exchange for my name."

Tieguai Li hoisted the steel pipe onto his shoulder.

"Then we won't accept it. Even at 9.9 yuan, Cheng Xiaojin would still think it's too expensive."

Han Shaobai nodded quickly.

"Yes, you can get free shipping if you bargain."

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at him.

"You've just been bought, and you're still being stubborn."

"After surviving the disaster, consumption rebounded."

The sound came from the courtyard gate of Master Ma's side again. This time it wasn't the door hinge, but the paper edge rubbing against the blue brick, making a soft, grating sound.

Before they could argue any longer, Master Ma placed the walkie-talkie on the stone table, picked up some old stove ash from the corner of the courtyard with his toe, the ash mixed with tobacco oil and years of earthy smell, and swept it in a semi-circle along the inside of the threshold.

"I'll block one layer."

Cheng Xiaojin quickly spoke up.

"Don't use the new ash, use the ash from the west wall, there's soot from when you burned old grievances back then."

Master Ma changed the direction of the sole of his shoe, and the dust brought out a dry, gritty sound when it was picked up.

"Your ears are annoying even if you don't use them."

"I didn't hear it, I'm just guessing. Someone as stingy as you would never throw something away."

Tieguai Li chuckled softly.

"You're the only one who can insult your elders and still act like you're filial."

The sound of an old iron pulling wood came through the walkie-talkie. Grandpa Ma pulled an old door sill nail from the door frame. The rust had been gnawed at the wood for many years, bringing down a piece of rotten wood.

He didn't touch the name card; he simply placed the nail tip in the center of the semicircle of stove ash and poked it down with the end of his tobacco pipe.

"Nail it inside the door, stick it outside the door."

The pale blue name card under the threshold stopped, the black ink on the paper squeezed to the side, then pushed back into the center by the old iron air, forming a few wet dots that didn't form any words.

Han Shaobai leaned towards the walkie-talkie, his voice weak.

"Master Ma, is it working?"

Cheng Xiaojin reached out and pressed his head back down.

"Shut up, it's looking for someone to talk to."

Han Shaobai covered his mouth, his eyes wide with shock.

Tang Wanqing gripped the red rope and copper buckle. The spring inside the buckle bounced a few times. She listened carefully, and her face darkened.

"The gray well is sending out a sound, and the copper spring of the Shenmen gate is sandwiched in red smoke. It wants to stamp the name card."

Cheng Xiaojin asked into the walkie-talkie.

"Has the red smoke moved away close to the ground yet?"

The only sound in the courtyard was the scraping of dust from Master Ma's shoes. After a while, the enamel mug was picked up, and the tea sloshed inside.

"Walk along the grout lines, a few lines, and circle around the name card."

Tong Kexin reached for the ash packet, found a corner empty, and frowned.

"Can it withstand the ash lines from the stove?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the entrance of Deshengmen Gully, where the broken gong was stuck on the stone threshold, its hoarse sound still lingering.

"Stove ash blocks the way, old nails block the door, but they can't stop the poking."

Han Shaobai stuffed the account book into his arms.

"What else is needed?"

"It lacks things that living people use every day, things that carry literary charm, things that bring good luck, and things that can hold paper in place."

Tieguai Li shouted into the walkie-talkie.

"Uncle Ma, take your old tea mug and put it on top of it. You've been drinking from that thing for sixty years, and the tea stains are so thick they could be listed as intangible cultural heritage."

There was a moment of silence on Master Ma's end.

Cheng Xiaojin didn't laugh; he used his fingertip to wipe away a bit of red mud from the hood.

"Use a tea mug."

Mr. Ma's breathing was close to the microphone, heavier than before.

There's still half a mouthful of tea left in the jar.

"It's gone. The tea can't be given to it to drink; just leave the tea aroma at the bottom of the jar."

"This tea isn't cheap."

Tieguai Li caught it quickly.

"Others have already sold Cheng Xiaojin's shares, and you're still eyeing Gao Sui?"

A soft hum came from the other end of the walkie-talkie, followed by the sound of tea being splashed into the flower bed.

Half a mouthful of tea leaves fell to the ground, stirring up the little bit of warmth in the courtyard. The bitter taste of the tea wafted out along the threshold, and the black ink on the name card shrank back a little.

Master Ma picked up the enamel mug, the bottom of which scraped against the stone table, the dull thud of old porcelain hitting old stone reaching everyone's ears.

"Deducted."

The teacup was turned upside down, making a short, deep sound, carrying the confidence of a 60-year-old courtyard where people eat and drink tea.

Here, on Han Shaobai's ledger under Deshengmen Bridge, the half of the character "Cheng" that had just appeared was covered by a layer of yellow tea stains. The ink line struggled a few times but failed to emerge as a second stroke.

The cracked red mortise inside the bamboo tube made a dull thud, as if someone had pressed it back under the table from the outside, silencing the sound.

In Master Ma's courtyard, red smoke drifted along the cracks in the bricks to the edge of the tea jar, where it was cut into several pieces by the years of tea stains on the rim. With nowhere else to go, the thin smoke could only return to the ash well, from which came a muffled gurgling sound.

The copper clasp in Tang Wanqing's palm was no longer hot, and a little grayish-white powder was stuck to the red rope.

"It's broken."

Cheng Xiaojin released the walkie-talkie, and a coin fell from his palm onto the car hood, rolling to Han Shaobai's ledger.

Han Shaobai used his sleeve as a pad to push the coin aside.

"Mr. Ma, you'll need to insure that tea mug from now on."

Master Ma didn't answer the call, but instead brought the walkie-talkie closer.

"The teacup can keep it from getting out of the house for a while, but not all night. Xiao Jin, don't go back to the brothel."

Cheng Xiaojin grabbed the coins and stuffed them back into his pocket.

I won't reply.

Tong Kexin looked at him.

"The way you talked just now didn't sound like you weren't going to reply."

"Shen Jiulou wasn't at the door. He stuffed the ticket into my house so I would run into the ash well."

Cheng Xiaojin turned to look at Han Shaobai.

"Account book".

Han Shaobai protected the account book tightly.

"Writing again? My wrist has been promoted from young master to senior accountant today."

"Write a name card on the threshold of Master Ma's courtyard. No one in the mortal world will accept the card. The teacup is covered with paper, the stove ash is blocking the door. The price quote is not settled, and the underworld account cannot pass through the door."

Han Shaobai opened the ledger, and before putting pen to paper, he glanced back at the bamboo tube.

The cracked red poke didn't budge.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and his handwriting became a little steadier.

As the last character for "door" fell, the water stains on the edge of the ledger page receded, the metal piece for the character "road" sank slightly in the interlayer, and something behind the paper changed direction.

Cheng Xiaojin only used his right finger to tap the sealing line.

"The metal piece moved."

Tang Wanqing immediately wrapped the red thread and copper coins around the outside of the account book.

"Where do you mean?"

Han Shaobai spread the account book on the carriage cover. A corner of the page was curled up, and the iron plate with the character "路" (road) inside the interlayer was not exposed. It only pushed a diagonal line out of the paper, which went out from Deshengmen and towards the northeast of Andingmen.

Zhou Banxian coughed for a while on the walkie-talkie, and the sound of the compass hitting the table was chaotic and tense.

"North-southeast, there is an old drainage gate. In the early years, when the foundation of a building was built, a section of the culvert was covered. Later, the project was abandoned, and the water was not completely stagnant."

Tan Laohe sat beside the ambulance, a towel draped around his neck, spitting out the black mud from his mouth.

"If the sluice gate were still there, it could connect to the Deshengmen water chamber below. Since the gong broke, it would use the sluice gate as a new gate."

Tieguai Li kicked the toolbox to the side of the car.

"Alright, let's change construction sites."

Tong Kexin raised her hand to stop Cheng Xiaojin, placing a curved spoon in front of him.

"Explain clearly what you're going there for, don't just start eavesdropping when you get to the water."

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at his left arm. The bandage was unevenly stretched by the blue thread, and the back of his hand was covered with a bluish-gray color that extended over his wrist bone. His fingers were not yet fully open.

"Find the gate, dismantle the gate."

Tieguai Li raised his hand.

"I can demolish illegal buildings, government offices, and even the mess left by Cheng Xiaojin. I'm a full-service demolisher."

Cheng Xiaojin shook his head.

"The underwater gate is a trap; if your metal object touches it, it can be recorded as payment. Haven't you had enough of that trick with the lamppost?"

Tieguai Li threw the steel pipe onto the toolbox, and sparks flew from the chipped blade.

"So how do you plan to tear it down? Will you just verbally destroy it from afar?"

Cheng Xiaojin kicked away a broken piece of steel cable and turned to walk towards the car door.

"The foundation of an unfinished building is never short of scrap steel bars. Shen Jiulou used an old gate as an anchor, and we used scrap iron from the construction site to dismantle its old foundation."

Han Shaobai followed with the account book, but after taking a few steps, he turned back to look at the entrance of Deshengmen Gully.

"And here?"

Tan Laohe rested the iron hook on his knees.

"I'll stay here, blocking the gong; the water won't dare to spill onto people for now."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the town's property bureau staff.

"Don't move the broken gong, don't sweep up the lamppost fragments, don't put the white paper and black water into the evidence bag, surround it with soot, and tell anyone who asks that it's construction pollution."

The operative nodded, his face covered in black liquid.

"clear."

Tieguai Li opened the car door, turned around and shouted to Tan Laohe.

"Grandpa, don't let your noodles get soggy."

Tan Laohe raised his eyelids.

"Come back alive, and I'll treat you to some dumplings."

"Never mind then, it's bad luck."

The car door closed, shutting out the sound of black water. The headlights swept across the wet road, and the red smoke trailed low along the wall. It didn't chase after them, but instead dissipated into wisps around the corner.

Cheng Xiaojin sat in the back seat, her left arm wrapped around her chest with a red thread by Tang Wanqing, one end of the thread passing through a copper coin and the other end tied to the car door handle.

He looked down.

"Dr. Tang, is this binding method for treating an illness or for imprisoning a prisoner?"

"Take prisoner into custody."

Tong Kexin sat in the passenger seat, her shoes covered in a black stain. She rubbed her feet on the mat, but the stain wouldn't come off.

"Serves you right, who told you to always treat your life as a tool."

Han Shaobai was huddled on the other side of the back row, with an account book in his arms and a bamboo tube at his feet, his whole body curled up in a ball.

"Brother Cheng, I have an unlucky question to ask."

"Hold it in."

"I can't hold it in. If the Heart-Piercing Nail is really in Uncle Cheng's heart, and Shen Jiulou uses it to make a bid, does that mean he can meet Uncle Cheng?"

'

The car quieted down as the tires rolled over the puddles, splashing water under the car in waves.

Cheng Xiaojin stopped fiddling with the coin, and the coin got stuck between his fingers.

Tang Wanqing glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Tong Kexin placed the curved spoon across her lap, the handle polished to a shine by her palms.

Cheng Xiaojin put the coin back into his pocket.

"That means he wants me to think that way."

Han Shaobai's lips moved slightly.

"It could be true."

"Half-truths are the most valuable; Shen Jiulou is better at business than you."

Tieguai Li turned the steering wheel, and the car turned onto a side road without streetlights.

"Then let's smash his stall first."

Cheng Xiaojin turned his head to look out the window. In the distance, the silhouette of an unfinished building was pressed into the night, a few tower cranes stood still, and the water reflected off the foundation.

"Yes, smash the stall first."

The unfinished building has been cordoned off, and three vehicles from the town's property bureau are parked there. Their headlights illuminate the puddle, but the reflection in the puddle looks like a row of low, old brick holes with dark, heavy entrances.

Zhou Banxian didn't come; the compass was being held by the operative, and the needle was spinning wildly under the glass cover, getting stuck when it reached north-northeast, then getting fogged up.

poke.

The operative approached, his face showing the paleness of someone who had stayed up all night.

"Mr. Cheng, the area below the building foundation is completely flooded. When we put the equipment down, the screen went blank, and the drone only transmitted a few images back."

The tablet was handed over, its screen displaying static. In the image, an old drainage sluice gate lay across the bottom of the water, its gate panel covered in rust. A large lock hung in the center, its keyhole filled with red mud, the same color as the mud seeping from the bottom of a cracked red sluice.

Han Shaobai retreated while holding the bamboo tube.

"I know this mud so well, I'm tempted to call the police."

Tang Wanqing used a silver needle to pick up the water stains on the edge of the screen; the needle tip quickly turned black.

"Southeast Asian agarwood, red ink paste, copper powder, and underwater corpse ash."

Tieguai Li squatted down by the foundation and shone his flashlight down.

"The old sluice gate hangs diagonally on the bottom of the water. The hinges are still there, but the lock was added later. The lock itself is not old."

Cheng Xiaojin stood by the puddle, not stepping forward, his right hand holding onto an exposed steel bar. The outside of the bar was newly rusted, but inside it concealed the old, metallic sound.

"Shen Jiulou tied the other end of the name card here."

Tong Kexin frowned.

"Wasn't Master Ma's tea mug covered?"

"The paper at the door is the one that's being held up. This is the back of the tent. Once the gate is opened, the waterway is open, and the name card doesn't go through Master Ma's courtyard gate; it goes directly through the hidden ditch to transfer the property."

Han Shaobai opened the ledger, and the pages shook on their own. Behind the old, sealed ledger, the character "Cheng" appeared with a slanted hook.

He quickly used the back of his hand to block it.

"Don't block it, hand temperature serves as proof."

Han Shaobai withdrew his hand and then held the penholder horizontally.

"The pen is the hand of the accountant, and it's even less acceptable."

Tieguai Li stretched out his steel pipe and used it to pry open the corner of the account book.

"Will this broken steel pipe work?"

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at it.

"Fine, steel pipes have no culture."

Tieguai Li clicked his tongue.

"Your way of praising people is hurtful."

The water began to flow backward, and the stagnant water around the building's foundation climbed from the lower to the higher ground. Blank receipts floated to the surface, with no store name or dish name on them, only words slowly seeping into the recipient's column.

The first character is Cheng, the second line tries to spell out the birthday, the third line shows a few crooked numbers, which are then washed away by water.

Tong Kexin raised the curved ladle, pointing the ladle tip towards the water.

"It hasn't obtained your birth date and time yet."

Tang Wanqing flicked out the red thread, wrapping one end around Cheng Xiaojin's waist and tying the other end to her own wrist.

"It will test files, old accounts, birth certificates, and any document that has been contaminated, and it can piece them together here."

Han Shaobai's face turned pale.

"You don't sell my handwritten birth charts?"

"Don't write down my birth date and time. If you do, it will know where the flaws are."

Han Shaobai closed the ledger halfway, holding the steel pipe between his fingers.

"Then what should I write?"

Tieguai Li removed his prosthetic leg, revealing the metal parts inside the interface, and then pulled out a wad of barbed wire from his toolbox.

"I'll go down and tighten the lock, you pull me up."

Cheng Xiaojin squatted down and grabbed a handful of construction debris from beside the foundation with his right hand. The debris contained broken cement, iron filings, and several pieces of cut steel bars.

He spread out the waste soil and picked out a few grains of rusty iron slag.

"This lock isn't for you to open, it's for you to touch. If a living person or a piece of metal touches the lock, then you've paid."

Tieguai Li stopped moving his hands, and the wire mesh was hung on the prosthetic interface.

Han Shaobai pulled his feet back from the water's edge.

"This game was really dirty."

Tieguai Li threw the barbed wire back into his toolbox.

"They make us do the dirty work, and they collect the money. Even capitalists would have to apprentice to them."

Tong Kexin squatted down next to Cheng Xiaojin and looked at the scrap metal in his palm.

"You want to use these scrap steel bars?"

"The secondhand market has a rule: unclaimed sunken iron cannot be sold. If it's still underwater and in the mud, hasn't been handled, hasn't been priced, and doesn't have an owner, it can't be used as payment."

Tang Wanqing's red thread tightened.

"You need to listen to the underwater sluice gate."

Cheng Xiaojin slowly spread his left hand out, his five fingers halfway open, and bluish-black water stains seeped from the edge of the medicated cloth.

"Listen to the rivets, not the ash well, and don't touch the lock."

Tang Wanqing took out three silver needles from the needle box, held the ends of the needles between her fingers, and aimed the tips at his shoulder and neck.

"The blue line goes past the elbow, then the shoulder, and beyond that the heart. If you dare cross the line, I'll intercept you first."

Cheng Xiaojin looked up at her.

"Stop it, don't hold back."

Tong Kexin placed the curved spoon to his right.

"You haven't paid me back for the soup you owe me."

Cheng Xiaojin looked down at the curved spoon. The handle had black marks from burning, and the spoon head had pits from being chewed by water.

"I remember."

"Remembering is living."

Tieguai Li kicked the toolbox aside to make room for him.

"Shaobai is ready to write, Doctor Tang is ready to acupuncture, and I'm ready to drag people along. The division of labor is quite professional."

Han Shaobai bit open the pen cap.

"Dragging a person is better than dragging a corpse to the mortal world."

Cheng Xiaojin stopped joking. He pressed the scrap iron in his right hand into the wet soil, and spread his five fingers on his left hand, with a layer of cold mist between his fingertips and the water surface.

The metal energy emerged from the fingertip, without entering the water, and traveled along the broken steel bars in the waste soil towards the depths of the building foundation.

The steel bar ends are scraps left over from the foundation work of unfinished buildings. They have been soaked in rainwater for many years, with thin rust layers and irregular textures. But as long as there is iron, there is a way.

The first steel bar made a hollow sound in the cement, the second was connected to the broken beam, and the third was inserted diagonally into the underwater silt. The echo in the iron cavity was muffled by the stagnant water.

The riveting sound of the old underwater gate is hidden deeper, muffled inside the sheet metal. Rust gnaws outward from the rivet roots. The outer shell is still intact, but the inside has long been hollowed out by six hundred years of stagnant water.

A metallic taste seeped from Cheng Xiaojin's lips. He didn't wipe it away, but instead pressed his left hand down another half inch.

Tang Wanqing inserted the first silver needle into his shoulder, the needle tip turned black, and the red thread was taut.

"That's enough, don't go towards the center of the gate."

"The brake core didn't move; the rivet is loose."

More and more blank tickets floated on the water. The character "Cheng" was already spelled out, but "Xiao" and "Jin" could not be found afterward. So, they started trying the vertical hook from Cheng Shouyi's old name.

Han Shaobai's forehead was sweating.

"It's using Uncle Cheng's old name to spell yours."

"Don't look at the characters, look at the water. The characters are hooks, but the water is the path."

Tieguai Li swung the chipped steel pipe and smashed it down onto an exposed steel channel next to the building foundation.

The metallic clang echoed back and forth in the unfinished building, the water surface was covered with flipped-over receipts, and a few illegible words were scattered.

Is it chaotic enough?

"Make it even more chaotic."

Tieguai Li smashed it again, bending a piece of the channel steel. Sparks flew to the edge of the puddle but did not fall into the water.

The town's property bureau officers also reacted, grabbing crowbars, shovels, and scrap steel pipes, and smashing around the outer edge of the building's foundation, creating a cacophony of noise.

Following the noise, Cheng Xiaojin sent Xin Jinqi into the rivet seam, without pulling the door or touching the lock, just letting the scrap metal sound rub against the empty shell inside the rivet.

The rivet remained dormant for a short while, then cracked open with a muffled sound.

As Tang Wanqing inserted the needle for the second time, the blue line on Cheng Xiaojin's left arm climbed up, the medicated cloth was pushed open, and the iron-blue color protruded from her elbow.

Tong Kexin pressed down on the medicine cloth, her palms turning red from the cold, but she didn't pull her hand away.

"Cheng Xiaojin, don't be greedy."

"Be greedy for poverty, not for life."

You had better keep your word.

The first snapping sound came from the bottom of the water. The bottom row of rivets on the right side of the sluice gate came loose from the inside. The iron shell was still hanging, but one of the load-bearing bones was broken. The entire sluice gate tilted into the mud, and the lock wobbled along with it. A few grains of red mud were thrown out of the keyhole.

Han Shaobai stared at the water.

"The receipt is missing."

Several blank tickets were swept into the water, the character "Cheng" on the tickets was swallowed by the black water, the remaining tickets were still struggling, unable to spell out the full name, and began to stack the edges of the paper together.

Tang Wanqing saw that the receipts were folded into the outline of a name card, and immediately threw the copper buckle above the water's edge. The red rope remained suspended, and it did not fall into the water.

The sound of the spring inside the brass buckle turned, the falsetto of the brass spring in Shenmen was cut off, and the folded tickets scattered halfway.

"It borrows the shadow of the name card."

Sweat dripped from Cheng Xiaojin's forehead down to his chin, mingling with the metallic smell as it fell onto the wasteland.

"Young Bai, wait for the sluice gate to collapse, then write about the sinking iron returning to the mud."

Han Shaobai spread the ledger out on the toolbox, and waited with the pen tip and stickers.

Tieguai Li signaled to the officers not to smash randomly, but to pick out an old steel bar connected to the foundation and use a steel pipe to smash it repeatedly in the same spot.

The old steel bars sent the vibrations into the water, which struck the right hinge of the gate.

Cheng Xiaojin heard the last rivet in the hinge begin to turn, the rust powder scattered in the iron cavity, and the stagnant water flowed through the hole, bringing out a wisp of red clay smell.

"The right side has collapsed."

As he uttered the last word, Cheng Xiaojin spread his left hand wide open, then quickly clenched it back into place.

The hinge on the right side of the old underwater gate broke, and the gate lost its grip, plunging diagonally into the depths of the silt. The red clay lock in the center was pulled down by the gate, and before it could float up, the silt rolled up from all sides, completely blocking the red ink and copper powder in the lock hole.

All the blank tickets on the water surface collapsed and softened together. The names seeping from the paper lost their roots and turned into puddles of black water, which receded along the cracks in the building foundation.

Han Shaobai put down his pen.

"The old gate outside Andingmen has been destroyed, its iron parts have sunk to the mud, there is no way to buy or sell, and the name cards are now invalid."

When he wrote the word "waste," the cracked red stamp inside the bamboo tube pushed against it from below, causing a red dot to bulge out on the bamboo skin.

Tong Kexin flicked a spoonful of soot over and stuck it to the bottom of the bamboo tube.

"I didn't tell you to cover it up, so just stay put."

Han Shaobai gritted his teeth and finished the last stroke. The account page turned yellow and worn, the remaining traces of the character "Cheng" were covered by the dead account, and the paper was flat.

Cheng Xiaojin didn't stand up. The blue lines on his left arm shot up along the edge of the medicated cloth to his shoulder, and his whole arm fell heavily to the ground. His right hand was stuck in the mud, and his fingertips dug several deep grooves into it.

Tang Wanqing inserted the third silver needle into the junction of her shoulder and neck. As soon as the needle tip entered the skin, the needle body curved into an arc.

"Iron-Crutch Li, help him out of the water."

Tieguai Li braced Cheng Xiaojin's right arm, avoiding his left arm.

"Hey buddy, don't pretend to be serious, the ground's cold."

Cheng Xiaojin used the momentum to stand up, his knees were covered in mud, and the metallic taste from the corner of his mouth was wiped off by his sleeve, but not completely clean.

Tong Kexin reached out to support his other side, but then remembered that she couldn't touch his left arm, so she grabbed the back of his collar instead.

"What you owe me has grown from one pot of soup to two."

Cheng Xiaojin took a breath.

"Inflation is happening quite fast."

"Stop talking nonsense."

The water level beneath the unfinished building foundation receded, revealing a section of dry riverbed covered with old bricks, broken tiles, and wood chips covered in mud.

Township officials used flashlights and long poles to clear away the mud.

There's something here.

Tieguai Li helped Cheng Xiaojin over. When the flashlight beam fell, a piece of dark brown wood was half-buried in the mud. Its edges were soaked in water, and the grain still carried the sour and bitter smell of agarwood from Southeast Asia.

Tang Wanqing used a silver needle to pick up the piece of wood, but did not touch it.

The back of the wood chip has five scratches running from the inside out, some deep enough to trap mud.

Han Shaobai leaned over for a look, his face turning pale.

"A sandalwood box?"

Cheng Xiaojin stared at the wooden piece, his right hand about to move, when Tang Wanqing's needle was placed in front of his fingers.

"Don't touch it."

I won't touch it.

He bent down to look and saw that the inside of the wooden piece was empty, without bone meal or copper powder, and even the red clay used to seal the box had been scraped clean.

Tieguai Li used a steel pipe to clear away the mud beside him and found two more pieces of the same wood chips.

"The box is broken here, and there's no stuff inside."

Tong Kexin frowned.

"Where did the goods go?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the old sluice gate that had been dumped into the silt.

"The lock is the anchor, and the sluice box is the ship. Shen Jiulou used this lock to send things over. We're dismantling the tail end; the goods have already passed through."

Tang Wanqing put the wooden pieces into the lead box of the Town Treasure Bureau. Before closing the box, a little grayish-white powder fell out from the scratches and landed on the bottom of the box, forming an irregular hook.

Cheng Xiaojin saw the hook and rubbed his finger along the seam of his pants.

No one asked.

Tieguai Li saw it too, but he just picked up the steel pipe and shouted at the officer.

"Seal this box separately. Don't put it with the junk. We can't afford to compensate for lost packages from Nanyang Express."

The operative quickly complied.

The walkie-talkie rang at that moment.

This time it wasn't Master Ma, but the old-fashioned walkie-talkie at Tong Kexin's stall. The signal was a mess, and the crackling sound was mixed with the clattering of pot lids from the Huguosi morning market.

Tong Kexin took the walkie-talkie out of her waist bag.

"Aunt Liu?"

The sound of a pot lid being lifted came from the other end, followed by Aunt Liu's strained voice.

"Kexin, are you two done?"

Tong Kexin glanced at Cheng Xiaojin.

"Get to the point."

"A man came to the stall to buy braised pork, handed over a bill, a wet one, an old one-yuan note."

Cheng Xiaojin looked up.

Tong Kexin gripped the walkie-talkie and wiped away the oil stains on the casing with her fingertips.

Where are they?

Aunt Liu swallowed hard, and the spatula made a single sound as it hit the cutting board.

"He left with the bowl, didn't give change, and his hands were strangely cold."

Han Shaobai's account book turned half a page by itself, and behind the old, sealed account book, the edge of the paper showed the earthy watermarks from the bottom of a well.

Aunt Liu's voice came out again, even more urgent than before.

"That money wasn't ghost money, it was real money, but it didn't smell like ink. It smelled like it was fished out of a well."

Tong Kexin's face darkened, and she gripped the curved spoon so tightly it made a cracking sound.

Cheng Xiaojin stood by the unfinished building foundation. The old sluice gate behind him had just collapsed, and the water under his feet was still receding. Someone had already set their sights on the pots and pans near Huguo Temple.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and reached out to open the car door.

"Return to Huguo Temple."

On the other end of the walkie-talkie, Aunt Liu shouted something.

"Kexin, across the street at the tofu pudding stall, there's an old lady in a floral-patterned jacket. She eats without panting and licks the bowl clean."

Tong Kexin's hand stopped on the car door.

Aunt Liu blurted out the second half of her sentence.

"That person was Aunt Zhang, who passed away the winter before last."