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墨書 Inktalez
It wasn't the weekend, and the harsh winter chill left the walkway deserted except for me. Despite the biting sea breeze tousling my hair and freezing my face like a hard apple, I was completely oblivious, my thoughts consumed by Cao Mingzhe and my troubles. It wasn't until I heard someone calling my name that I realized I had wandered all the way to the Molding Factory where they were making my Sand Table Model.
"Mr. Zhang, you really are too honest. There's no need to come all this way in this cold just to settle up. I could have come over with a phone call; you didn't need to make this trip," said a middle-aged man.
His surname was Song, and he was the owner of the Molding Factory.
I cursed myself silently. Recently, after that fire incident, even the restaurant owner in the alley avoided me. The only people I knew were creditors, and I had to borrow just to eat. I never expected to end up at the door of my largest creditor today. I still owed him over a hundred thousand for the last batch of models.
I approached him hesitantly, stammering, "Boss Song, I really have something to trouble you with today."
This was a sign of my guilt, but Boss Song didn't see it that way.
He looked touched. "What trouble? Look at you, you're freezing! Don't stand in the wind; come inside."
Having foolishly barged into the office of my biggest creditor, there was no escape now; I could only follow Boss Song into his office.
His factory had an independent heating system; it was warm inside, with radiators hot to the touch. The room needed constant watering to maintain humidity, resembling a steam room. Within moments of entering, I was drenched in sweat.
It was hot—and also intimidating. Boss Song must have thought I was here to settle up. But aside from some tissues in my pocket, I had nothing else on me. How was I going to face him?
"Boss Song, quickly brew me a good pot of tea," he said cheerfully. "What business does Boss Zhang have to take care of me? I'm quite interested in collaborating with you."
I wiped the sweat from my brow. A hundred thousand in debt is still debt, just like a million. Since I can't pay it back anytime soon, I might as well have him make another Sand Table Model for me. Although I don't have the money right now, it's different from our food expenses. I can report to a few sponsors and apply for funding with a reasonable explanation. Especially AE; they haven't refused any of my requests as long as I have a valid reason.
To my surprise, Boss Song dismissed my thoughts. "It's business, after all. Boss Zhang is quite a celebrity around here; you should take care of your old brother a bit."
Hearing this made my nose flare with anger. Over a million in business and he treats it like nothing? When I first approached him about making that Sand Table Model, he was eager to help.
I slammed my teacup down on the table. "Boss Song, your appetite has grown. You don't even regard over a million in business? This temple is too grand for me; I can't afford to climb that high."
Just as I stood up to leave, Boss Song, who was in his fifties, jumped up and blocked my way. "Boss Zhang, you misunderstood! That Sand Table Model of yours has ready-made molds; making another set won't cost much. The valuable part is the mold itself. I charged less than thirty thousand for the second set I made; if you want another one, I'll charge you twenty thousand."
Hearing this made me laugh; so that's how it is. Boss Song is quite honest and hasn't tried to cheat me.
But then another thought struck me. "Brother Song, did you make another model? Who did you make it for?"
Boss Song's eyes widened, and his expression froze as he slapped himself across the face. "This mouth of mine deserves a beating."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," I stopped him. "It's not a big deal; there's no need to keep it secret about who you made it for."
Boss Song shook his head vigorously. "No way. Boss Zhang, this matter really can't be disclosed. If your mold is used by someone else, that's on me. I'm willing to make you a model for free, but this matter must remain confidential due to an agreement with them."
As I pondered this, it dawned on me that if he were willing to make me a model for free, that meant he wouldn't charge me the two thousand dollars. He had made another model for someone else and charged them less than thirty thousand; it seemed the real cost was in keeping things quiet, which was certainly worth more than two thousand dollars.
Who would spend a fortune on this Sand Table Model and even offer a higher confidentiality fee? Of course, I don't think I'm foolish; I have a purpose for creating this.
The first thing that came to mind was AE. During that in-depth investigation of the Lop Nur Yadan Geomorphological Group, the funding came from AE. After returning, I organized the data and created the Sand Table Model, with the funds also provided by AE.
They only occasionally sent someone to check on the usage of the funds and did not interfere or even inquire about the model's production status.
Moreover, the funding for both the Lop Nur Yadan Geomorphological Group investigation and the subsequent creation of the Sand Table Model was entirely provided by AE. The other two sponsors were unaware, and I didn't feel the need to unnecessarily report to them.
Generally, I only report to sponsors about how their funds are being used and the direction of those funds. This means that each sponsor receives different reports. There are overlapping parts as well as completely different sections, depending on how their funds are allocated and what direction they are more concerned about.
AE is the only party that has known about this matter from beginning to end.
My eyes were fixed on Boss Song, but I couldn't see his expression; instead, my mind conjured another scene. It was the moment when Fatty and I first visited Jack.
In Jack's hotel room, there was a faint yet lingering aroma of coffee. The books on his desk were stacked over a foot high, likely keeping him company through countless long nights. The Chinese food packaging in the trash bin indicated that he had already consumed all the food he brought from America and had started buying locally.
I realized back then that the American Guy had been living in our city for some time. However, I hadn't considered the Sand Table Model at that moment; I thought he was plotting against me and Xiao Ting, observing us from the shadows while waiting for Xiao Ting.
But now, I realized that the American Guy was likely in China for the Sand Table Model. Xiao Ting's appearance and the series of subsequent events triggered by Xiao Guolin's Archaeology team's disappearance were merely coincidental.
I decided to test Boss Song about how much confidentiality fee the American Guy had given him. "Fine, I won't pursue this matter. But I can't let you off easily. I still have an outstanding payment, right? Waive it all and make me another model."
"Boss Song" frowned, saying, "Zhang, you’re too ruthless. That's over a hundred thousand dollars! Just like that, you think I'm some kind of rich fool?"
"Just give me a straight answer. If it’s not possible, tell me who messed with my cake."
"Fine." "Boss Song" gritted his teeth and spat out two words. "I admit defeat. Who told me to run my mouth without thinking? Even though there’s a ready-made mold, this model will still take two months to finish. The work is too fragmented. You can come back for your stuff in two months."
Upon hearing this, I couldn't help but angrily curse. "Damn it! American Guy, you really are something else, fooling me for so long!"
"You know who it is," "Boss Song" said, nearly in tears.
(To Be Continued.)
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