Chapter 11: The Thugs and Thieves of the Wholesale Market

Jiang Butong patiently explained everything. A glimmer of light appeared in Chen Pan’er’s eyes; she thought to herself that, despite his youth, this man was truly shrewd.

“Brother, hurry and tell us what your plan is,” Chen Sheng pressed, growing anxious.

“Brother Sheng, since you know the area well, find a go-between, give him a small fee, and have him pretend to talk to the landlord. Let him say that we’ve found three properties at the same time and are currently evaluating which one has the lowest rent,” Jiang Butong explained.

Chen Sheng suddenly understood—so that was it. In short, it was about spreading a bit of rumor to make the landlord feel uneasy.

“There are two benefits to this. First, even if the landlord doesn’t lower the price, we won’t offend him, so he won’t raise it on us. Second, using a third party to deliver the message is more likely to gain the landlord’s trust than if we went to negotiate ourselves. It might even have unexpected results.”

Jiang Butong had a keen grasp of human nature; he was sure that, even if the landlord didn’t reduce the rent, he would still be anxious.

“Let’s do as you say, brother. I’ll go find a go-between in a bit,” Chen Sheng said, very satisfied. Jiang Yuan and Jiang Dazhuang agreed that this was the safest plan for now.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Chen Sheng’s gaze fell on Chen Pan’er’s face. He checked the time; it was still morning.

Jiang Butong chuckled. “We came over just to sponge a meal off you, brother. I’ve grown used to your cooking—I really can’t get used to anyone else’s.”

“You rascal! You make freeloading sound so grand!” Chen Sheng stood up. “Wait here, I’ll cook for you myself.”

In half an hour, Chen Sheng had prepared a meal: sweet and savory congee with preserved egg and lean pork, cold pickled vegetables, and fried eggs. Though simple, it was balanced and nutritious—most people don’t have much appetite in the morning, after all.

Chen Pan’er sipped the congee, her brows knitting slightly, then took another spoonful.

“What is it? Does the congee not suit your taste?” Chen Sheng had been watching her, and seeing her frown, felt a bit uneasy, worried his cooking was not to her liking.

“Brother Chen, your congee is delicious. I just wanted to ask—did you invent this recipe yourself or learn it from someone?” Chen Pan’er looked at him curiously.

“I came up with it myself. There’s no other taste like it in the world,” Chen Sheng said proudly, patting his chest.

Chen Pan’er nodded; there was another thought she kept to herself—her mother’s congee tasted exactly the same as Chen Sheng’s. But as she was not yet very familiar with him, she didn’t say it aloud.

After breakfast, Chen Sheng went out to look for a go-between. Jiang Dazhuang stayed behind to tidy up the restaurant, while Jiang Yuan went out to buy ingredients. Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er set off for the wholesale market.

Life had only just begun, but everyone had their own goals and confidence.

As they were leaving, Jiang Yuan suddenly asked, “Xiaotong, when will you take me to the wholesale market to have a look?”

“Don’t worry, Brother Yuan. I’ll take you along when you have time.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.” Jiang Yuan pedaled away on his bicycle.

“Let’s go, too.”

Jiang Butong and Chen Pan’er headed to the wholesale market. On the way, she asked if he was very familiar with Chen Sheng.

Jiang Butong smiled. “I’ve known Brother Sheng about as long as I’ve known you.”

Chen Pan’er looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected that, in just a few days, Chen Sheng would trust Jiang Butong so much.

“So, how did you two meet?” she asked, curious.

Jiang Butong told her the whole story. Chen Pan’er suddenly understood, a storm stirring in her heart—his insight and quick thinking were remarkable. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it.

After two hours on the road, they arrived at South China Wholesale Market—the largest of its kind for now, filled with all manner of strange and dazzling goods, and throngs of people jostling shoulder to shoulder.

Standing at a crossroads, Jiang Butong’s eyes betrayed a fleeting sense of confusion. The loudspeakers, rows of old-fashioned bicycles, the plainly dressed locals, all mixed with a touch of Western flair.

He recalled the bustle of the modern cities he used to know, and felt a strange sense of unreality.

“What’s wrong?” At some point, Chen Pan’er had stopped in front of him, waving her small hand.

He snapped out of it. “Nothing, I’m just a country bumpkin in the city, a little dazed.”

“Now you’re surprised? Back at the restaurant, you seemed to be plotting everything like a modern Zhuge Liang!” Chen Pan’er covered her mouth and laughed softly.

“Come on, let’s go in.” Seeing so many people coming and going, Jiang Butong instinctively took hold of Chen Pan’er’s small hand.

She was slightly taken aback but did not pull away, following behind him into the market.

The market was crowded and chaotic, people with large and small bundles weaving in every direction. Jiang Butong noticed several young toughs in groups, slipping their hands into others’ pockets.

“Watch your wallet,” he warned Chen Pan’er.

“Surprising, you’re quite experienced for someone your age,” she teased, but obediently slipped her other hand into the pocket with her wallet.

“What are you planning to buy?” Jiang Butong asked, stopping at a stall displaying colorful earrings. Perhaps it was his past experience with diamond-studded jewelry, but these cheap earrings looked a bit tacky to him now.

“Earrings are nice—lots of girls like them,” Chen Pan’er said, carefully selecting from the display.

“You have a good eye, miss. Everyone who buys from me says earrings sell fast,” the plump, kindly stall owner said with a smile.

“What do you think of these?” Chen Pan’er held a crystal-like earring up to her ear for Jiang Butong to see.

He took a look—and indeed, her delicate earlobe paired with the earring looked quite refined.

“None of them are as pretty as you,” Jiang Butong said with a smile.

A woman beautifies herself for those she admires. Hearing his compliment, a faint dimple appeared at the corner of Chen Pan’er’s smiling lips.

“You’re quite the sweet talker, no wonder you’ve got yourself a girlfriend,” the stall owner gave him a thumbs up.

“Just friends, not girlfriend,” Jiang Butong explained.

“Hmph, no need for you to explain,” Chen Pan’er huffed, putting down the earring and walking on ahead.

Jiang Butong wondered why she was angry—could she be jealous?

“Go after her, young man. Girls are all a little petty,” the stall owner said kindly, speaking from experience.

“Thank you,” Jiang Butong replied, then hurried after Chen Pan’er.

Just then, a young hooligan approached from the opposite direction, an eagle tattooed on his arm and hair dyed a gaudy brown.

He turned his head and whistled, then bumped right into Chen Pan’er.

She stumbled back a few steps with a startled gasp.

The thug also stepped back, and just as he was about to leave, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He turned to find himself facing the cold, clear eyes of Jiang Butong.

“What do you want?” The thug tried to shake off his grip, but couldn’t—Jiang Butong’s hand was too strong.

“Hand over what you took,” Jiang Butong said coldly.

“What are you talking about? Don’t you dare accuse me!” the thug blustered, drawing a crowd—some slipping away, others gathering to watch, a few fellow ruffians among them.

“You just stole my girlfriend’s wallet and think you can get away?” Jiang Butong grabbed him by the collar.

Chen Pan’er checked her pocket and saw her wallet was indeed gone.

“He has my wallet!” she cried, reaching to snatch it back.

With more and more onlookers, the thug grew nervous—he had been caught red-handed, after all.

“Who says it’s yours? I just bought this one,” he said, holding the wallet behind his back and brazenly denying it.

Jiang Butong’s gaze grew icy. “If that wallet isn’t yours, do you dare let me cut off your hand?” he said, his tone deadly calm.

He had realized that, in this era, people’s education was low and their sense of the law weak—sometimes a bit of intimidation worked better than calling the authorities.