Chapter 64

Today’s Chun Cheng is still quite decent, with an industrial base and a sizable population.

Before 1965, a large number of buildings were constructed—gyms, hotels, film studios.

Li Xuewu rode his bicycle aimlessly, taking in the different scenery of this era.

He drifted slowly to Renmin Street, still called Sidaolin Street, where vendors lined up shoulder to shoulder, and inside, the crowd stretched as far as the eye could see.

Li Xuewu turned down an alley, found a secluded spot, stowed his bicycle and the contents of his satchel, left nothing on his person, and slipped into the crowd carrying only an empty satchel.

Li Xuewu’s satchel held more than just money—the Type 54 was in there too, and it couldn’t be revealed.

He strolled lazily, glancing left and right.

Dried fruits, hardware, frozen pears, dried wood ear mushrooms—various goods, all thoroughly available.

Don’t doubt the nature of these stalls—they were products of public-private partnerships.

After wandering for a while, Li Xuewu was examining the grain on a stall when someone tugged his sleeve.

He turned to see a young man wearing a white cotton mask and a dog-skin hat.

Why could he tell it was a young man despite the heavy covering?

Because his eyes were exposed, his posture was upright, he wore a worn-out military overcoat, and his hands were tucked into his sleeves.

Seeing Li Xuewu look at him, the young man gave a signal and motioned for him to follow.

Li Xuewu found the kid’s shifty eyes intriguing, glanced around, and followed.

The young man led Li Xuewu into a low brick house in the alley.

Inside was a single kang, a stove, and a half-grown boy tending the fire, playing with a gasha.

“Skitter-skitter-skitter, skitter-skitter-skitter, glutinous rice with pork knuckles—Dad eats one, Mom eats two, save one big gasha for little bald girl...”

The room was quite warm.

The young man ignored the boy, glanced outside, then said: “I’ve watched you wander for a while—you bought nothing. No coupons, right?”

Li Xuewu heard this and thought, This might be promising.

“So? You got some?”

The young man didn’t care about Li Xuewu’s tone: “Yeah, I’ve got some. You want any?”

Li Xuewu pulled out a cigarette and offered one to the young man, lit it, and asked: “What do you have?”

Seeing the quality of Li Xuewu’s cigarette and hearing such a bold question, the young man realized he was dealing with a big fish.

The young man dropped the act—he kicked the boy, who snatched up his gasha and darted out the door, huddling with his hands tucked under his armpits at the alley’s mouth.

Now the young man said: “Grain coupons, cloth coupons, oil coupons, coal coupons—I’ve got them all. Even women’s menstrual pads coupons. What do you need?”

Li Xuewu noticed the young man’s brash tone—people who talk big are usually unreliable.

He smoked, watching the smoke curl around the masked coupon dealer, asking prices for each type of coupon, watching the masked man grow increasingly flustered.

“What exactly do you want?”

Li Xuewu smiled: “I don’t need anything.”

The masked man snapped: “Fuck, are you messing with me? You don’t look like a flute—you’re a short blade!”

He yanked a dagger from his belt.

The dagger looked like a Type 38 bayonet—long, gleaming—and the masked man gripped it, waving it toward Li Xuewu.

fantuantanshu.

Li Xuewu stepped back, reached behind his waist, pulled out the Type 54 from his space, and held it in hand.

Before Li Xuewu could speak, the masked man dropped the dagger with a clang and dropped to his knees.

“I’m just a low-level runner, the bayonet I carry is just for show—I’m nothing but a chick before you, sir. I don’t have any goods on me. Don’t shoot me, great man, don’t light up on me!”

Li Xuewu tossed his cigarette butt, pointed the Type 54 at the masked man, and gestured for him to stand.

The masked man rose, trembling, thinking to himself: Why did I kneel? That’s not a good aiming position.

The kid spouted nothing but underworld slang—Li Xuewu didn’t understand it all, couldn’t respond in kind, but grasped the gist.

Li Xuewu looked at the trembling masked man: “Don’t be nervous. I don’t lack coupons. I lack Northeastern specialties. I’m a... uh... Northeastern specialty proxy buyer. You get it?”

At these words, the masked man realized he was dealing with an outsider.

The masked man straightened up instantly, removed his dog-skin hat, unfastened his mask—his hair was soaked with sweat, clinging to his scalp, steaming slightly—whether from the room’s heat or from fear of Li Xuewu, it was unclear.

He pulled out a pack of Da Shengchan, tapped out a cigarette, offered it to Li Xuewu, then lit it for him—his fear had vanished, and he spoke politely.

“I get it, I get it. Now that we’re talking openly, we’re both insiders. Brother, where you from?”

Li Xuewu exhaled smoke, tucked the Type 54 back into his sleeve, and said: “Not from around here.”

The masked man’s smile widened. “So you’re from inside the Pass! As long as you’re not a bandit, we’re good. Need anything? Speak up—I know the code. I’m Da Chun, I’ve got connections all over this patch.”

He looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, yet his speech dripped with underworld flair.

Considering how fast he’d knelt just now, he’d clearly been beaten down many times.

But every word out of his mouth was a lie—even his name might not be real.

“I came empty-handed to check the local market. I want to distribute some inland specialties here, and bring back some local specialties. Like I said—I’m a specialty proxy buyer.”

Da Chun beamed: “Proxy buyer? That’s a great term! Is that an inland phrase? We’re all proxy buyers! What do you want? I’m local—every inch of Sidaolin Street (pronounced ‘gai,’ first tone) is mine. Everyone knows my connections. If the price is right, I can get you anything.”

Li Xuewu watched him smoke, until Da Chun grew uneasy, then said: “The quantity’s large—you probably can’t handle it. You said you’re a line runner—you’re a middleman, right? You’ve got a boss behind you. Mind if I meet him?”

Da Chun realized his bluff had been called—he’d already revealed too much by panicking. No matter what he said now, this man wouldn’t trust him.

But approaching the boss directly was against protocol—this was tricky. Yet he saw an opportunity—he didn’t want to miss it. If he could latch onto this connection, even the crumbs from this man’s fingers could make him rich.

Da Chun asked cautiously: “Can you say how much?”

Li Xuewu calculated his potential profit and the capacity of his space, then said: “I can move four train cars into the Pass anytime. How much is that?”

Da Chun’s caution vanished instantly—this guy must’ve escaped from a mental hospital. How could he possibly brag like this? Why not say he’s the Minister of Railways?

“Brother, I’ve been running this market for years—I’m no small fry, I make dozens a day. I don’t have time to mess around with you. Even with that black stick, you’re not fooling anyone. Don’t go chasing a melon thinking it’s a gun—go cool off somewhere else.”

Li Xuewu tapped his cigarette, flicked ash, and said casually: “Fine. If I didn’t believe it myself, I wouldn’t believe you either. If you change your mind, find me. But next time, be prepared—I don’t do small orders. I’ll be wandering this market until 4 p.m. today.”

Watching Li Xuewu toss his cigarette and walk out, head down the alley without looking back, Da Chun was deeply unsettled—was any of that true?

He gritted his teeth, pulled on his dog-skin hat, and dashed out the door into the alley.