Chapter 59: The Earth Rat

"Earth rats" is the colloquial term for those who roam villages and alleys to purchase antiques. These individuals are often part-timers with basic knowledge of antique appraisal. With limited capital but a wide network for resale, they occupy the lowest tier of intermediaries in the Chinese antique market.

They go by many names and are particularly common in provinces rich in cultural relics, such as Henan and Hebei. I have encountered plenty of these people in my own county. Through my business, several have dined at my restaurant, and over the dinner table, I have picked up a few things about their tricks of the trade.

To put it plainly, they are mere "middlemen." They acquire antiques from grave robbers and private collectors, only to sell them to more powerful buyers or antique shops. However, because there are usually many layers of intermediaries between these people and true collectors, they remain nothing more than small-time peddlers at the bottom of the food chain.

In Shandong, they are called "earth rats," in my county, they are known as "relic-mongers," and in Beijing, it is said they are called "bell-ringers." Regardless, they all mean the same thing.

However, despite the variety of titles, these people share one constant trait: they operate with little capital and thin margins. A transaction of a few thousand yuan is considered a "big job," and they only take on such jobs if the profit is guaranteed; otherwise, they cannot afford the loss.

After listening to Master Duan, I immediately deduced that if he was willing to pay five thousand yuan for this kitchen knife, it meant the item held some genuine value in the antique market. It was by no means the cheap "sold by the kilogram" scrap he claimed it to be.

Because of this, I saw through Master Duan’s petty scheme in an instant, though I was in no hurry to speak up. I knew that at this very moment, someone was more anxious than I was, and someone else was far more desperate to purchase the knife.

That person was Lei Ren, the abbot of Wuling Temple, who had long coveted the Zhao family’s imperial-gifted blade. Unlike me, who had been dragged into this situation for no reason, this cunning merchant Lei had been aiming for the "fat piece of meat" that was the Zhao family’s knife from the very beginning. To secure this blade, he had gone as far as calling Zhao Shuihe his "little grandmother" and performing a soul-summoning ritual for my old squad leader using "gold-chasing" techniques. The sheer effort and painstaking dedication he poured into this were exhausting just to watch.

Things had reached a point where, even if he hadn’t explicitly stated his intent to buy the knife, his ambition was as clear as day. Since Lei Ren wanted the knife, he and Master Duan were now rivals. Having calculated the situation for so long, Lei Ren was naturally displeased to have this con artist, Duan, unexpectedly insert himself into the fray. It is no exaggeration to say that Lei Ren’s eyes were burning with rage at that moment; if no one had stopped him, I suspect he might have wanted to swallow Master Duan whole.

Yet, I had to admire Lei Ren’s calculating nature. Even with his beard bristling in fury, he still smiled broadly at Zhao Haikun and said, "Brother Haikun, you promised to let me examine the knife. Whether you sell it or not, we should at least wait until I’ve had a look at it first, right?"

Zhao Haikun snorted coldly. "Naturally, I will let you see it. My wife and Shuihe have gone to fetch it. They will be here any moment!"

Upon hearing this, Lei Ren smiled and sat back down to sip his tea. Watching his eyes darting around, it was clear he was already plotting how to snatch the knife from that swindler Duan.

*Keep thinking,* I sneered to myself.

Observing the attitudes of these two, I had already made up my mind. This time, I would stay calm, let them tear each other apart, and only step in to "settle the score" at the decisive moment.

With this thought, I felt much more relaxed. I beckoned for Hong Ye and A-Si to find seats. Like spectators at a grand play, we watched the tense and expectant Lei Ren and Master Duan. One was a sly, wily fox, the other a feigned-mad, foolish cat—this was going to be a show worth watching.

A moment later, Gui Yuxiu heaved her stout frame through the main entrance of the reception room, followed by an excited-looking Zhao Shuihe. This time, Gui Yuxiu carried nothing, but Zhao Shuihe was tightly clutching a heavy bundle wrapped in white linen.

As they entered, all of our eyes were fixed squarely on the bundle in Zhao Shuihe’s arms. A wave of excitement washed over us; everyone knew the real show was about to begin. The true face of the kitchen knife was finally about to be revealed.

Under the "gaze of all," Zhao Shuihe walked straight to Zhao Haikun and handed him the bundle. Zhao Haikun took it, placed it gently on his lap, and slowly unwrapped it.

Contrary to everyone’s expectations, what greeted our eyes was not a kitchen knife... but a lump of mud, black tinged with yellow, exuding the faint scent of tea leaves!

A gasp rippled through the room! Some were bewildered, others were beside themselves with excitement. Among everyone present, the most exaggerated and agitated reactions came from none other than myself and Lei Ren.

It is no exaggeration to say that we both "leapt" from our chairs simultaneously, shouting at the mud, "The 'Mud-Wrapped Sleep'! Truly a magnificent blade!"

Our sudden outburst startled everyone in the room and left the laypeople utterly baffled. Xian Hongye, standing beside me, poked me in confusion. "What are you talking about? You haven't even seen the knife yet—how do you know it's a good one?"

Little A-Si, standing on his stool, scratched his head at the object. "Isn't this supposed to be a kitchen knife? Why did they bring out a pile of mud?"

Just as A-Si noted, what was revealed in the linen was not a kitchen knife at all, but a dry, cracked lump of mud. It was dark, fissured, and stained with tea dregs, bearing no resemblance to a "precious blade."

Faced with A-Si’s skepticism, Zhao Shuihe retorted indignantly, "What would a monkey like you know! This is called the 'Mud-Wrapped Sleep'! It is an ancient ritual of the 'Five Viscera Temple' for storing precious blades. You laypeople naturally cannot fathom the profound mysteries behind it."

At this point, Zhao Shuihe’s floodgates had opened. She began to lecture the "laypeople" present on the intricacies of "blade storage," exuding a sense of superiority.

She started with a textbook opening: "The sword is the overlord of all weaponry, and the kitchen knife is the commander of the culinary arts."

In China, two types of people value blades above all else: warriors, who treat the blade as their soul, and "cooks," who treat the blade as their life. Consequently, in the cook’s creed, the "knife" is ranked first, followed by "fire" and "skill."

Kitchen knives are found in every home, and everyone knows how to use them; they are among the tools we come into contact with most often. Yet, if one were to speak of the true secrets hidden within them, few would likely know.

Not to mention ordinary people, even the cooks in "private academies" probably aren't aware of them. They are even less aware that these kitchen knives are guarded by "blade spirits" and "blade essences."

What Zhao Shuihe was about to reveal next was precisely the connection between the kitchen knife and the blade spirit.