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

Cheng Xiaojin did not go straight back to her rented apartment.

After leaving the Panjiayuan Market, he rode his bicycle, first turning south and then circling around Puhuangyu Road twice.

I didn't do it for any other reason than to see if anyone was following me.

This habit was taught to me by my grandfather.

When the old man was alive, he often said that if you buy something you're unsure about, don't go home right after you leave the market. Walk around two streets and see if there are any tails following you.

Panjiayuan is a mixed bag of people; some people actually keep an eye on buyers, following those who buy good items to their door.

They'll knock on doors and buy things at low prices if it's light, and steal it outright if it's heavy.

Cheng Xiaojin looked back three times, but found nothing amiss, before turning onto the main road and riding north.

Instead of returning to his rented room in Fengtai, which cost 1,500 yuan a month, he turned into an old alley.

The alley was narrow, with gray brick walls on both sides, and half-withered ivy climbing on the top of the walls. The ground was paved with old stone slabs, worn smooth by the footsteps of passersby.

After making two turns, we stopped in front of a red door with peeling paint.

Cheng Xiaojin leaned his bicycle against the wall and banged on the door.

"Mr. Ma, are you home?"

There was no movement inside for a long time.

Cheng Xiaojin patted it twice more.

"Master Ma, this is Cheng Xiaojin."

With a creak, the door opened a crack, and an old woman poked half her head out.

"Little Jin, your Master Ma is in the backyard. Go in by yourself."

"Thank you, Auntie."

Cheng Xiaojin squeezed through the door, passed through a narrow passageway, and entered the backyard.

The yard wasn't big, but it was kept tidy.

An old locust tree provides shade for half the courtyard. Under the tree, there is a stone table and two stone stools, and a tea set is placed on the stone table.

Master Ma sat on the stone bench.

The old man, in his early seventies, had completely white hair but was in good spirits, with a straight back. He held a teacup in one hand and a birdcage in the other, inside which a thrush was fluttering.

Uncle Ma is a veteran of Panjiayuan. In this area, his word carries more weight than any official document from the market management office.

He used to work at the National Cultural Relics Appraisal Center in his early years, and became an associate researcher in the 1980s. After retiring, he was unwilling to go out and make quick money by performing, so he lived in this alley, spending his days walking his birds, drinking tea, and playing chess.

But everyone in Panjiayuan knows that if you encounter a problem that you really can't solve, go find Master Ma.

Cheng Xiaojin and Master Ma have an unusual relationship.

Master Ma was an old friend of his father, Cheng Shouyi. Cheng Xiaojin called him Grandpa Ma when he was a child, and later changed his address to Master Ma when he grew up, but the affection between them never changed.

After his father disappeared, his grandfather also passed away. Cheng Xiaojin's closest elder in the world was Master Ma.

"Master Ma." Cheng Xiaojin sat down on the stone bench opposite him.

Without looking up, Master Ma hung the birdcage on a tree branch and slowly took a sip of tea.

"What is it?"

"I have something to show you."

Cheng Xiaojin placed the backpack on the stone table, unzipped it, and carefully took out the lump of iron, placing it on the table.

Master Ma put down his teacup and his gaze fell on the piece of iron.

He didn't rush to start, but watched for about half a minute first.

Then he took out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and put them on, and then took out a magnifying glass from the drawer.

"Where did it come from?"

"It was dug out from under the foundation of an old house by an old farmer from Mancheng, Hebei."

"How much did it cost?"

"Eight hundred."

Instead of judging its value, Master Ma picked up a magnifying glass and brought it close to the surface of the iron lump, examining it inch by inch.

Cheng Xiaojin sat opposite him, initially quite composed, but after five minutes he began to fidget, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.

"Don't knock." Master Ma said without looking up.

Cheng Xiaojin's fingers immediately stopped.

Five more minutes passed.

Grandpa Ma put down the magnifying glass, took off his reading glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

"You touched it?"

"I touched it."

"You heard it?"

"I heard it."

"What did you hear?"

Cheng Xiaojin swallowed.

"Dragon's Roar".

Master Ma glanced at him.

That glance contained scrutiny, confirmation, and something else that Cheng Xiaojin couldn't decipher.

"Did your grandfather teach you that?"

"right."

Did your grandfather ever tell you what a dragon's roar was?

"As I've said before, the finest sound from ironware can only be produced by refined iron that has undergone a special forging process, has extremely low carbon content, and is almost free of internal pores. This technique was lost after the Ming Dynasty."

Master Ma nodded, stood up, and went inside.

After a while, he came out with an old photo album.

The photo album is very old; the cover is dark green artificial leather, and the corners are worn down.

Mr. Ma flipped to the middle page and handed over the photo album.

A black and white photograph.

The photo shows an ancient well with a stone-lined opening and a thick iron chain coiled around it.

The chain was thick, with each link the size of an adult's fist. The surface was rusty, but you could tell that it was originally made of very fine material.

Below the photo is a line of handwritten text; the handwriting looks very familiar.

Cheng Xiaojin leaned closer to take a look at the line of text.

Beixinqiao Bridge, Suolongjing Well, remnants of an iron chain, photographed in June 1987.

The handwriting was his father's.

Cheng Xiaojin's finger stopped on the photo.

"Mr. Ma, was this photo taken by my dad?"

Master Ma didn't reply, but pointed to the iron chain in the photo.

"Look at the cross-section of the chain. This section is a break, completely different from any signs of deliberate cutting. The chain broke at some point in time, and the fragments that broke off were scattered underground for miles around."

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at the lump of iron on the table.

"You mean, this thing broke off from that chain?"

"I didn't say anything, you can judge for yourself."

Master Ma's tone was calm, but Cheng Xiaojin had known him for over twenty years and knew that the calmer the old man was, the more complicated things were.

"Mancheng is over 100 kilometers from Beixinqiao, how could the chain fragments have ended up so far away?"

"When the chain broke and when the fragments were buried are two different things." Master Ma closed the photo album, put it back in the house, and sat down again after coming out.

"The fragments may have been taken there by someone."

"Who? Why?"

Master Ma picked up his teacup and blew on the tea leaves floating on the surface of the water.

"Some things are buried under the foundation of a house, and there are many intricacies involved. Those are called 'suppressing objects'."

Cheng Xiaojin was familiar with this term. In folk tradition, when building a house, people would bury things under the foundation to suppress evil spirits and protect the house. This was an old custom. Copper coins, stone talismans, and ironware were all buried there.

But using fragments of the iron chain from the Locked Dragon Well as a talisman is quite unusual.

"Mr. Ma, how much is this worth?"

Master Ma glanced at him.

"All you care about is money."

"If I don't care about money, what will I do?"

"This thing is worthless in Panjiayuan. If you show it to an expert, it'll only be worth a few thousand yuan. Ironware is not like bronze or porcelain; the market doesn't recognize it."

Cheng Xiaojin's heart sank.

"But," Master Ma put down his teacup, his voice lowering slightly.

"To those in the know, it's a key."

"What key?"

"Hide it well first, and don't let anyone know you have this."

"Mr. Ma, please explain yourself clearly. What key is it for, and what lock does it open?"

Grandpa Ma didn't answer. He stood up, took the birdcage off the tree branch, and turned to walk into the house.

"Master Ma!" Cheng Xiaojin said anxiously.

Master Ma paused at the door, his back to him.

"This thing is related to the line your father was following back then."

Cheng Xiaojin was completely rooted to the stone bench.

His father, Cheng Shouyi, disappeared twenty years ago and has not been found alive or dead since.

The official explanation is that the incident occurred during a business trip, but the body has never been found and the case remains unsolved.

Cheng Xiaojin was only six years old that year, and his grandfather rarely mentioned the specifics of his father's disappearance to him.

All he knew was that his father was investigating something back then. What it was, his grandfather never said, and neither did Master Ma.

"Master Ma, what exactly was my father investigating back then?"

Master Ma didn't turn around.

"You're not old enough to know yet."

"When will you arrive?"

Master Ma went inside and closed the door behind him.

Cheng Xiaojin sat alone in the courtyard, the iron lump in front of him gleaming with a dark red light in the setting sun.

He stared at the piece of iron for a long time, then wrapped it up and stuffed it into his backpack.