Chapter 204: Rare Visitor

After returning to Hangzhou, the weather was still very cold.

The shop was as quiet as ever. When Wang Meng saw me return, looking exhausted, he didn't recognize me at first and thought I was a customer. I could only force a bitter smile.

The results of my discussions with those friends of mine hit me hard, leaving me unsettled. I couldn't go ask Third Uncle again, lest he say I was indecisive. With no outlet for my frustration, I spent every day at the shop, playing chess with the owner next door. This year had been full of trouble, and business was bad for all the shops. Everyone was living off their savings, leading a very leisurely life.

Strangely enough, once I was back in Hangzhou, those annoying matters crossed my mind less often. Maybe it was because this city itself was very soothing.

I hadn't seen Third Uncle in a long time. Fatty came to find me a few times, asking me to help him deal with some stuff. That guy couldn't sit still either. He had a fortune but spent it quickly, and soon he was saying he had no money. When I asked, I found out he'd bought a shop in Beijing and spent most of it. Times really weren't like before, when ten thousand bucks would set you up for life. But he often came with a few customers who had a heavy Beijing accent, and they took quite a few goods off his hands. It seemed he'd opened up a market and made a good profit.

One day, I was being slaughtered by the neighboring shop owner, left with only a pair of horses, but I gritted my teeth and refused to admit defeat, intending to stall until dinner. Just then, I heard someone cursing all the way over. I looked up and saw it was Fatty again. That guy's business must have been too good.

The neighboring owner had done business with Fatty before and had swindled him plenty. When he saw Fatty coming, he slipped away. I was glad I didn't have to lose money, and asked Fatty what he was so angry about.

Fatty was grumbling. It turned out he'd brought two porcelain vases to Hangzhou, but one broke on the train. He couldn't get anyone to compensate him, so he could only stew in silence.

I'd gotten pretty familiar with him by now and knew a bit about his background, so I laughed and teased him, "Why squeeze onto a train when you could fly? Water in your brain, right?"

Fatty cursed, "What do you know? It's strict on planes now. I'm a big shot in Panjiayuan, and the cops keep an eye on me. Beijing's had too many international events these past few years, and now they sweep every few days. Even though I've got a shop, they still come bug me every day. Can't do business. So I had no choice but to expand south. Jiangnan values commerce, and money can stay put. But the women in your Hangzhou are too fierce. Your fatty master just tried to strike up a little conversation on the train to kill the boredom, and I got slapped. His mother's, my goods got smashed. Who says Jiangnan women are made of water? What a load of crap. I'd say they're made of nitric acid."

Fatty had talked about this many times. I knew what happened. On the train, there was a skinny girl. Fatty thought she was scrawny, wearing heavy makeup, and she was complaining that the train smelled bad. Of course, Fatty's feet stank to high heaven. He got annoyed, and out of sheer boredom, he teased her: "Little sister, you're so pretty, but why are you so skinny? Look at your two pant legs—the wind blows through your crotch and the lanterns dangle, with two propellers inside. One fart from you could generate wind power." And sure enough, he got slapped.

I laughed at that. "You're lucky she didn't drag you to the police station. You know, there's a crime called hooliganism, and you might have crossed the line."

Fatty grinned, "With that face of hers? Yeah, if I said I harassed her, the cops would never buy it. I'm definitely the victim."

I gave him an idea. "In the future, you don't have to come yourself. Ever heard of express delivery? You invest a little, start your own courier company, grease some palms, and once the logistics chain is running, sending a few artifacts on a single truckload would be a piece of cake."

Fatty was slow when it came to business and couldn't follow complicated stuff, so he dropped the subject. He sighed, "When it comes to making money, it's not that your fatty master is a masochist, but these past few months I've been getting bored out of my mind. You know, money earned just to spend it—where's the fun? Guys like us, we need to do that kind of stuff, right? That's the true meaning of life. By the way, has your Third Uncle been running any gigs lately? Why haven't I heard anything?"

I said I hadn't been in touch much either. After that incident, I felt there was a rift between Third Uncle and me. He didn't dare see me, and I didn't dare see him. Occasionally we'd meet but had nothing to say.

Fatty didn't mind. He just said, "If there's any fun stuff coming up, count me in. My bones have been itching for months."

I thought to myself, "You keep going on, but isn't it all about money?" I found it amusing and said, "You're a strange one, Fatty. You've seen big money, so why are you never satisfied?" He said, "There's always someone richer. Panjiayuan is full of big spenders, hidden billionaires with priceless goods at home. Comparing yourself to others just makes you mad. People live for pride. Once you have money, you naturally want more."

I laughed heartily. "That's the honest truth."

Just as he was saying that, someone poked his head into the shop, raised his face with a smile, and asked, "Boss, are you open for business—"

Fatty had been picking his toes. He looked up at the newcomer, let out a surprised sound, and sneered, "You?"

I turned around and saw that it was A Ning. Now she was wearing a crop top and jeans, a completely different look from when she was at sea. I almost didn't recognize her.

A Ning and I had hardly had any contact. I'd inquired about her before but got no news. So her sudden appearance caught me completely off guard.

A Ning ignored Fatty, shot him a glare, then swaggered around my shop with a seductive air, saying to me, "Not bad. The decor is really classic."

I thought, "This is an antique shop; what did you expect, surrealist decoration?" I replied warily, "You're a rare visitor. What brings you here?"

She looked a little disappointed, probably sensing my attitude. She paused, then said, "You're really straightforward. Then I'll be blunt too. I'm here to ask you to treat me to dinner. Will you?"