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墨書 Inktalez
Huang Hai stood behind Fatty, his thin frame resembling that of a Big Monkey. However, his expression was one of arrogance as he tossed his sparse, side-parted hair back and glared at me with hostility. Clearly, he viewed me as an obstacle to his rise.
"Opposing Brother Gang? What a joke!"
I couldn't believe it; did he really think he could just talk like that? This guy had always been a fast talker, his words tumbling out in a way that made them hard to understand. He had a lisp too, unable to pronounce the "l" sound properly. For instance, when he said "came," it came out as "came hot." The last time we argued, it started with a verbal spat, but I honestly couldn't remember the details. Now, having this clown in charge of the shop was bound to drive customers away or at least make them anxious.
Fatty seemed to have a serious issue with me, wearing his signature fierce expression. My anger flared even more; why did they have to send someone like him to irritate me? I stared back at him defiantly.
From my gaze, Fatty should have understood my stance and made a rational decision. To my surprise, after staring at me for a moment, he simply walked past me and took Huang Hai into the back courtyard. I was taken aback; I didn't expect that at all and wondered if Fatty had lost his mind.
In no time, Fatty came rushing out alone, wearing an annoyingly smug smile. He lowered himself and handed me a cigarette, lighting it up.
From his behavior, I sensed there was more to this situation than met the eye. However, I wasn't willing to compromise on this matter; I wasn't used to living with another man—except for Fatty, of course. What bothered me most was that Fatty had made this decision without my consent.
"Brother Qiang, this is my fault. But this kid is too pitiful; just consider helping him out," Fatty said with an ingratiating smile.
"Cut the crap," I replied, knowing that Fatty was thick-skinned and would try to wear me down with his persistence. I understood him well; you had to be more stubborn than he was or else you'd find yourself at his mercy. I decided to take a hard line and coldly told him, "In this courtyard, we can only keep one animal. You decide who stays and who goes."
Fatty pouted but showed no sign of anger; instead, he looked pitiful as he said, "Brother Qiang, don't be so heartless. Are you really planning on keeping just yourself?"
Damn it! This Fat Man had turned the tables on me. I pointed at him accusingly. "You can keep one of them; don't blame me for being unsympathetic."
Fatty sighed dramatically and stood there rubbing his hands together as if lost in thought. But I knew he was just putting on a show. He was the type who wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted, and I had no intention of backing down either.
Fatty continued to press me, recounting Huang Hai's experiences in a fragmented manner.
In fact, he had seen Huang Hai not long after returning, during the time he was frequenting the antique market. Huang Hai was working there, helping people with odd jobs. Fatty was a loyal friend; after all, Huang Hai was his classmate, despite having once given him a good beating. With no particular goal in mind, Fatty wandered aimlessly through the antique market, knowing that the only way to develop his eye for antiques was through exposure.
Since Huang Hai made his living in the antique market, he didn’t shun Fatty. Instead, he treated him to meals twice and wholeheartedly helped him familiarize himself with the market's dynamics. The first time Fatty went out for Ground-Digging, it was based on an idea from Huang Hai, who even provided information on where to go. This brought them closer together, and Huang Hai became Fatty's eyes and ears in the antique market. When I suggested that he find someone to manage his goods, he took the opportunity to bring Huang Hai back with him.
As for what Huang Hai had been through in recent years, I, who had been oblivious to outside matters, truly had no idea. Among my classmates from high school, I could hardly get in touch with anyone.
In truth, Huang Hai's current situation was entirely self-inflicted. He had once owned a shop in the antique market and flaunted his earnings. One night, after drinking too much, he got behind the wheel and hit someone. He didn’t kill them but left them severely injured and paralyzed from the waist down. He also suffered greatly; one leg was broken, and several teeth were lost due to that accident.
At that time, all his wealth was tied up in his shop, and he had even sold his family's house to fund his business. As a result, the court auctioned off his shop, which wasn’t enough to cover the compensation owed. Ultimately, he ended up with nothing after years of hard work. Fortunately, having mingled in the antique market for years meant he knew many people; he could still find odd jobs here and there to make ends meet and avoided falling into destitution. At night, he helped out at the antique market as a night watchman—essentially just finding a place to sleep.
Fatty kept at it; even though I didn’t want to listen, his words seeped into my ears. After hearing the entire story, my heart began to waver; my resolve remained only in words.
Fatty possessed enough patience and perceptiveness—perhaps due to his life experiences and environment. He quickly noticed the slight change in my expression and intensified his persuasion efforts, swearing all sorts of oaths about trial periods and compliance guarantees as if anything would suffice to get me to nod along.
I could no longer tolerate Fatty's relentless nagging; on the verge of mental collapse, I reluctantly accepted the reality of the situation. Fatty displayed an expression of overwhelming gratitude, squeezing my arm tightly while trying unsuccessfully to shed a tear. He seemed to feel this wasn’t sincere enough and adopted a woeful expression: “Qiangzi, thank you. Really, you’ve saved Huang Hai’s life.”
I scrutinized Fatty's expression; it seemed overly theatrical, sending an ominous feeling through me. Normally, with his personality, if he achieved something he wanted, he would surely gloat about it or at least give me a smug grin. His silence felt worse than getting punched.
Surely he wouldn’t have more outrageous demands? Unfortunately, my instincts were spot on; perhaps I knew him too well.
In an instant, Fatty switched to a sycophantic smile: “Brother Qiang, you have to give me some face in front of Huang Hai. He’s my first disciple; maintaining authority is crucial.”
“Did a donkey kick you in the head?” I exclaimed, feeling a headache coming on as I regretted leaving Huang Hai behind. “Do you think this is some sort of underworld? Are you recruiting disciples? Is this the Triads or something?”
Fatty looked embarrassed. “Qiangzi, don’t get me wrong. We just call new members that in our circle; it has nothing to do with the underworld.”
Although I had some contact with this circle, it was limited to Cultural Relics appraisal. I had no intention of getting too close to them; that was my principle. It wasn't that I looked down on them or thought myself superior, but many of their activities skirted the law and sometimes were outright illegal. Those who often walk by the river are bound to get their shoes wet, and I didn’t want to jeopardize my work or even lose my freedom because of it. So I couldn’t be sure if Fatty was trying to fool me, but I felt there was a strong possibility he was not, as there was no reason for him to engage in such self-destructive activities when he was at least wealthier than I was.
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