02. The Debt Collector

Whoosh!

Accompanied by the autumn wind, a fisherman pushed his way into the shop. He wore a coarse cloth jacket with a wide front, short loose trousers, straw sandals on his feet, a bamboo hat slung over his back, and a rope tied around his waist for gathering firewood.

His skin was astonishingly dark, not the healthy shade of wheat but something else entirely.

The moment he stepped inside, he shouted, "Shopkeeper, shopkeeper..."

Upon seeing the attendant half-dragged out by the burly man with a pale face, the fisherman with the bamboo hat hurried forward, drew a few pearls from his rope, and said, "Pawn these!"

"Sir?"

The attendant glanced first at the fierce water bandit holding him.

Lu Xun squinted and let go.

"Five foreign pearls, forty taels each. I wonder, sir, are you looking for a live or dead pawn?"

"How much?"

"Live pawn, forty; dead pawn, fifty."

"Dead pawn!"

The attendant acted swiftly, issuing the pawn ticket and silver, then storing away the five bright pearls.

"Strange," Lu Xun thought the pawnshop attendant was spinning tales to deceive him, but here was a living example.

Looking at that sun-darkened skin and lean build, he was clearly no man of wealth.

Fishing and farming are both hard labor, dependent on the whims of heaven.

Pearls don’t grow in fields, nor does gold come up in rivers.

Lu Xun grabbed the fisherman as he was about to leave, smiling and asking, "Brother, where did you strike it rich? I’ve heard fishermen hereabouts are all bringing treasures to pawn."

The fisherman struggled sharply, but couldn’t break free, annoyance flaring in his heart. "What business is it of yours? Let go, or I’ll report you to the authorities—the night patrol is just outside."

Lu Xun had no desire for a quarrel. His head was once the leader of the water bandits' stronghold; though that was gone now, back then he’d nearly mobilized the entire county office and city guard.

If the patrol recognized him, he’d have to find a new identity.

He released the fisherman and watched him leave the pawnshop, ushered into the three-story mountain tower.

The great red lanterns glowed like the eyes of a beast waiting to devour.

The attendant asked carefully, "Sir, would you like to pawn anything?"

"Yes! Look at this treasure." Lu Xun rolled a glass marble between his fingers. "See its size, its luster—how is it inferior to those genuine pearls?"

In truth, his was the least real of all. The others brought at least natural pearls; his was a proper industrial product—glass from the assembly line.

Of course, rarity is value. Any price could be justified.

Lu Xun wasn’t greedy; he didn’t expect a few marbles to solve a huge sum, just to scrape together funds for study and daily expenses.

"Forgive my humble eye, please enter the inner hall for discussion."

...

Wang Si had made his fortune; the bent back he’d carried for years now stood straighter than ever.

His hands were generous, his heart even more so. In the past, when fishing, he never dared linger near the pleasure boats, fearing the boatmen’s scolding and the maids’ snubs would leave him ill at ease.

Now, with nervous pride, he strode into the Drunken Tower.

The large teapot, adept at reading faces, welcomed him with a plastered smile, respectfully pouring tea, serving water, and bringing the cup on a tray. "Sir, do you have a favored young lady?"

"No."

"I can introduce one for you, sir."

Wang Si waved him off. "Is there a lady living on a small pleasure boat, flying an apricot flag, with a fierce maid who never lets an offense go unpunished? I’m not sure if she plays the zither or some other instrument."

The teapot paused, eyes rolling in surprise. "You must mean Miss Fang Nine."

"She’s the one."

"Miss Nine, a guest requests you!"

A door on the second floor opened. A maid led out a tall, charming beauty, whose every smile and frown could steal a soul.

Wang Si was momentarily dazed by her allure, but in his eyes, years of suppressed anger and satisfaction surfaced.

Once, while fishing on the Xunyang River, his pole accidentally struck the pleasure boat, earning him a barrage of insults from the maid. Tongue-tied, his face flushed, he nearly fell into the river in embarrassment.

Afterward, he worked even harder at fishing, yet never dared enter the Drunken Tower, having heard an entry alone cost ten taels.

Now, he carried two hundred and fifty taels in cash—though he could only spend fifty, it was still an unimaginable fortune.

Why should he be denied the company of any lady, or let humiliation go unanswered?

"She’s the one!"

"Sir, Miss Nine has already been reserved by a gentleman today. Come early tomorrow... unless you wish to bid?"

"Bid?"

"Highest price wins."

"What did he offer?"

"Ten taels."

"I’ll pay fifteen."

"Twenty taels!" A young gentleman stepped out from the crowd, dressed in a blue robe, a headband, a white jade belt at his waist, snapping a folding fan in his hand. He glanced at the fisherman and said coolly, "Where did this old hat come from, daring to compete with me? How much wealth do you have?"

Wang Si’s face reddened. "Thirty taels!"

"Thirty-five..."

The young man clearly lacked confidence.

"Fifty taels!" With this bold offer, the beauty upstairs gave him a sideways glance, the patrons' expressions varied, and the finely dressed young man bowed out, hiding his face as he left.

Wang Si, having vented his anger, strode toward the second floor like a victorious general.

Outside, the mountain tower glowed with golden lights; inside, it was equally lavish, festooned with lanterns and decorations. The first floor featured a towering fifteen-foot redwood staircase, carved with dragons and phoenixes, its winding floral patterns branching left and right to the second floor.

The teapot stopped halfway, bowing deeply. "Sir, please ascend—our second-floor host will meet you."

Climbing the red stairs, greeted by fragrant breezes, he felt as if he’d entered a heavenly palace. Though fifty taels was a hefty price and weighed on his heart, the exhilaration now swept all cares away.

...

Surrounded, he reached the door of the private room. The maid who once scolded him now bowed meekly, while the lady who’d never shown herself on the pleasure boat stood in all her enchanting glory, both coy and welcoming.

Fine wine and good food were already set out.

"Well worth it!"

Wang Si brushed aside the maid, shouted joyfully, and stepped into the private room.

The silver was easily gained; he pretended he had none, feeling as though he’d earned everything by fortune.

...

Comfort breeds the desire for more. After indulging for a day and two nights, Wang Si finally realized his purse was empty.

He had no idea where the money had gone. When clarity returned, he was being shoved from the gambling tables by a surging crowd, his cries drowned by the gamblers’ hoarse shouts.

The stench of sweat mixed with pipe smoke choked him as he staggered into the long street.

He searched his pockets, then slapped himself hard twice.

Fifty taels spent was spent; why meddle with that extra two hundred?

Remembering the man’s warnings, Wang Si fled home under cover of night.

Once outside, dizzy and lost, unable to distinguish east from west, he stumbled into a narrow riverside alley and, turning, crashed into a “high wall,” falling with stars before his eyes.

By the moonlight and the incense burning at someone’s door, he saw who it was.

Wang Si glared, ready to curse, but was struck silent like a duck grabbed by the throat.

The newcomer wore a massive rain cloak, soaked through; standing there for a moment, water pooled at his feet. The wide bamboo hat lifted, revealing two huge red eyes that nearly covered half his face. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Sir, you pawned five pearls. It’s time to hand over the silver."

"Help—"

A bone was jabbed directly into Wang Si’s mouth, silencing him completely.

"Where’s the silver?"

Wang Si shook his head in terror, like a rattle drum.

"Despicable!"

The bamboo-hatted man stepped forward, about to take Wang Si’s head.

But before he could act, his form paused.

He glanced aside.

A burly figure, munching on a biscuit like a field mouse, with a water gourd at his waist, gulped down a mouthful of water, cheeks bulging, wiped his short beard, and said loudly, "Last time I saw him, he carried a hint of sinister energy—so you’re the debt collector."

The debt collector didn’t move, but his head twisted like an eagle or wolf, eyes fixed on the newcomer.

The eyes, covering half his face, stared intently.