Chapter 11: Donghe Vegetable Market

But above all, he felt delight. He hastened his pace to weigh the river snails, collecting money and slipping it into his jacket pocket. In the eighties, counterfeit money was unheard of, so he was at ease, not even bothering to check the bills as long as the amount was right.

Beside him, Guazi came over to help, sweat beading on her forehead, yet she didn’t pause to wipe it away. She knew that the better her brother’s business did, the more likely she would soon have delicious snacks to enjoy.

Neither of the siblings noticed that the woman who had come to buy eggs was waiting nearby. Only when the crowd buying river snails had mostly dispersed did she step forward, handing over four yuan with a smile. “Child, there are forty-five eggs in total. At eight cents each, that’s three yuan and sixty cents, isn’t it?”

“Yes! That’s right!” Liu Xing nodded.

“Then give me the change.” The woman placed the four yuan in Liu Xing’s hand.

“Okay, ma’am.” Liu Xing quickly fished out forty cents and handed it to her.

“I’ll be going then. Next time you come to the city to sell things, feel free to swing by here again.” The woman pinched Guazi’s cheek affectionately before turning and walking into the red-brick house.

Liu Xing watched as she disappeared from view. When there were no more customers for the river snails, he hurriedly pulled out the thick wad of bills and coins from his jacket pocket. Counting them, he was astonished to find he had as much as fifty-one yuan.

This thrilled Liu Xing beyond measure. If he managed to sell off the remaining river snails and other goods, he might end up with seventy or eighty yuan at least—a sum he had never even imagined.

Guazi, too, was over the moon. She had never seen so much money—not even their parents had so much at hand.

“Oh right, I also got a few oil and cloth coupons earlier,” Liu Xing recalled, tucking the money away and rummaging through his pants pocket. Seeing that the oil coupon was only for one jin, he shook his head. A single jin of oil would hardly last a few days for a family of six. Still, Liu Xing was content. As he saw more customers approaching for river snails, he quickly put away the oil and cloth coupons.

“Young man, how much for your lotus roots?” A middle-aged man, pushing a three-wheeler, squeezed through the crowd.

“I’m not sure about the price,” Liu Xing replied with an awkward smile.

“I’ll take the whole lot at a dime per jin, and those wild celery and wild onions too.” The man inspected the goods laid out before Liu Xing, then looked up at him.

“Deal.” Liu Xing agreed without hesitation. He wasn’t foolish—so many customers had passed on the lotus roots and wild greens, which meant they weren’t in high demand. The fact that this man wanted to take everything at once suggested he was buying for a canteen or restaurant; otherwise, he wouldn’t be making such a large purchase.

“You’re a straightforward lad,” the man remarked. He deftly placed the lotus roots on Liu Xing’s small scale, checked the weight, and jotted something down in a notebook. “Forty-one jin in total. Let’s call it forty jin—so, four yuan.”

“Alright,” Liu Xing nodded. Though the man deducted a jin for the weight, he didn’t complain since he hadn’t washed the lotus roots; the mud alone probably weighed more than a jin. In reality, the buyer was likely at a loss.

“These wild celery and onions are nice. Can you supply them daily?” The man squatted to inspect them, then glanced up at Liu Xing.

“I can’t guarantee that,” Liu Xing said with a smile. While wild greens were plentiful in the fields, supplying them every day was next to impossible, so he politely declined.

“Well, if you have any in the future, just bring them directly to me.” The man scribbled his contact information in his notebook and tore off a slip of paper.

Liu Xing took the note and was momentarily stunned. Good heavens—the man before him was Wang Zhongyu, the head of the canteen at Hengshui Distillery. If he could establish a relationship here, he would never have to worry about making money again. In his memory, Hengshui Distillery was a massive factory, employing over a thousand workers; the vegetables they consumed daily totaled several hundred jin.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem with my contact information?” Wang Zhongyu asked.

“No problem,” Liu Xing replied, carefully putting away the note.

“Good, then let’s weigh the rest.” Wang Zhongyu seemed pressed for time. He grabbed the wild celery and onions from Liu Xing’s bag and placed them on the scale.

“Twenty-one jin. Let’s call it twenty,” Liu Xing said, showing him the weight.

“Alright.” Wang Zhongyu handed over six yuan. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Liu Xing nodded.

“I’m off then.” Wang Zhongyu loaded the vegetables onto his tricycle and headed toward the distillery.

Liu Xing didn’t spare him another glance, instead turning to weigh river snails for a chubby man who had just approached.

He stayed busy for an entire hour.

The sun rose slowly from the east, its dazzling rays bathing the whole city of HY.

The black calf stood quietly at the side, occasionally stretching its neck to nibble on roadside leaves, while always keeping a watchful eye on Guazi. At the slightest sign of trouble, it would block her with its body, allowing no one to approach.

Liu Xing had noticed this scene long ago, but he’d been too busy to intervene. Now, with everything sold, he scooped Guazi into his arms and settled onto the black calf’s back. “Come on, let’s buy breakfast and then head home.”

“Big brother, we have to buy something for the black calf too—it did a great job today.” Guazi smiled sweetly as she voiced her wish.

“Of course! Everyone gets something.” Liu Xing strapped the bamboo basket to the calf, then led it eastward down the street.

He recalled that this street should have a shop selling meat buns—a century-old establishment, no less.

But, surprisingly, he didn’t see the bun shop. Instead, on the right-hand side, he spotted a shop selling bicycle parts.

Liu Xing paused, then led the black calf over.

The shopkeeper was an elderly man with reading glasses, currently repairing a bicycle for someone. When he looked up and saw a water buffalo approaching, he was startled, but relaxed when he realized someone was leading it, and that a little girl was riding on its back.

“What do you want?” the old man sized Liu Xing up and down.

“Do you have a rear tire tube for a 28-inch bicycle? I need the inner tube.” Liu Xing asked with a calm smile.

His father’s 28-inch bicycle had a burst rear tire, and now that he’d found a parts shop, he naturally wanted to buy the inner tube right away. As for replacing it, that was no challenge for someone who had lived another life.

“We have lots!” the old man replied with a grin.

“How much for one?” Liu Xing asked again.

“The regular ones are one yuan eighty, the good ones are two-fifty,” the old man answered.

“I’ll take a good one.” Liu Xing pulled out two yuan and fifty cents from his thick wad of bills and handed it over.

“Alright!” The old man hadn’t expected a youngster like Liu Xing to have so much cash, nor to be so decisive. After a brief moment of surprise, he quickly fetched a tube from inside the shop and handed it over.

Liu Xing checked the brand and saw the old man hadn’t tried to cheat him. Satisfied, he led the black calf farther down the street.

From a distance, Liu Xing caught the aroma of meat buns. He could also see the signboard for the East River Market at the corner.

“Big brother, it smells so good!” Guazi couldn’t help but sniff the air.

“It does. That’s the smell of meat buns,” Liu Xing replied with a smile.

“Can we buy one?” Guazi asked timidly.

Instead of replying, Liu Xing led the calf to the bun shop’s entrance. “Boss, how much for your meat buns?”

“Eight cents each,” the chubby shopkeeper replied with a smile.

“I’ll take ten.” Liu Xing handed over eighty cents.

“Coming right up!” The shopkeeper, glancing at Liu Xing, quickly packed up ten steaming buns in two paper boxes. They were large, and as Liu Xing took them, he could smell the aroma of lean pork and scallions inside.

He broke one open to look—it was just as he thought: lean meat and scallions, without a trace of fat.

“Food in the eighties really was the real deal,” Liu Xing thought as he handed a bun to Guazi. “Eat up! If it’s not enough, I’ll buy you more.”

“Okay, you eat too, brother.” Guazi’s eyes lit up at the taste of the bun.

Liu Xing smiled as he watched her, not standing on ceremony. He took a bun from the box and began to eat. After all, the journey from Xiaoshi Village had sapped his energy, and he was already starving.

Even the black calf looked listless at this point, eyeing the roadside grass hungrily.

Liu Xing wouldn’t let the animal go hungry. After finishing two buns, he led the black calf into the East River Market.

The market was much smaller than he’d imagined. But unexpectedly, there was pork for sale, as well as cabbage, carrots, and other vegetables—though not in large quantities. As for wild celery and wild onions, there were none at all.

Seeing this, Liu Xing finally understood why Wang Zhongyu had given him his contact information. The vast East River Market had no one selling wild greens. Nor were there any river snails for sale anywhere in the market.

There were a few vendors selling lotus roots, but those were cultivated, not wild, and quite different from what he’d sold Wang Zhongyu earlier.

As for the price—twenty cents per jin, mud and all.