Chapter 30: A Lucky Find

“Uncle Ye… Uncle Ye, what… what painting are you talking about?”

Feng Kuang had clearly been drinking outside. After leaning his bicycle against the courtyard wall, he took a plastic bag from the front basket and wobbled toward the door.

“You rascal, why did you drink so much?”

From far away, Ye Dongping could smell the liquor on Feng Kuang. Seeing his face red as a monkey’s bottom, he shook his head and said to Ye Tian, “Fetch a basin of water so your Brother Fengzi can wash his face…”

Since the scrap collection station was located on the outskirts of the county town, tap water hadn’t been installed there yet. They still used a hand-pump well. The icy well water carried a chill even in the hot August weather.

“Ah, Uncle Ye, I had to drink. By the way, you and Ye Tian haven’t eaten yet, right? I brought some food. You eat first, don’t worry about me…”

Feng Kuang’s body swayed as he stood there. He stubbornly tried to hand the package of cooked food toward Ye Dongping’s face.

“Alright, wash your face and sober up a bit first…” Ye Dongping laughed helplessly as he took the plastic bag from Feng Kuang and pulled him over to the water basin.

Feng Kuang plunged his whole head into the water and held his breath for a long moment before lifting it again. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, and he let out a liquor-scented belch. “Ah, that feels good. Those turtles are too good at drinking. Next time, I’ll just give them the liquor and let them drink it themselves…”

These days, the migrant scavengers who came from other places all brought their families along. Every member, young and old, went out to collect scrap. When Feng Kuang went to where they lived, he saw a lot of good stuff. The piles of waste outside each family’s door were nearly as much as what he had sold last time.

Feng Kuang found a few people who hadn’t gone out and explained his offer. His price was a few cents higher than what the recycling station paid. By the time they were halfway through the drinking session, those families had all agreed to sell their stuff to him.

Although he was already quite drunk by then, Feng Kuang’s mind was still clear. After a rough calculation, he realized that just by buying the scrap from these few families, he could make at least five yuan profit. So, ignoring his own limit, he drank a few extra cups right then.

Most of these scavengers were from Henan or Anhui. They could handle their liquor much better than Feng Kuang, who grew up in the watery regions of Jiangnan.

Feng Kuang had bought six bottles of strong local liquor. Only five people drank. He was done after less than three ounces, while the others finished the rest. After drinking, those men still went out with their bags to collect scrap as usual.

“If you can’t drink, you should at least know to drink less. Here, wipe your face and go sleep for a while.” In Ye Dongping’s eyes, Feng Kuang was still just a big kid, barely over twenty, not even ten years older than Ye Tian.

“No, Uncle Ye, I’m fine. Washing my face woke me up.”

Feng Kuang wiped his face roughly with a towel, then excitedly grabbed Ye Dongping’s arm. “Uncle Ye, I’ve settled deals with all five scavenger families in West City. Tomorrow I’ll go to East City and try to secure those too…”

The midday drinks, including the food, cost less than twenty yuan total.

But tomorrow, after those people delivered the scrap, he could resell it and make five hundred. This thought made Feng Kuang feel so restless it was like a cat was scratching his heart. He wished he could secure deals with every scavenger in the whole county town today.

“Alright, there’s no rush with this. I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you go out in this state. Go sleep first.”

Seeing Feng Kuang walking like a model on a runway toward his bicycle, Ye Dongping grabbed him. Although there weren’t many cars on the roads these days, that didn’t mean you should go looking for trouble by stumbling into one.

People who drank too much usually showed one of two behaviors. The first type would fall asleep as soon as they were drunk and wouldn’t wake up even if there was an earthquake. The second type would turn into chatterboxes, their mouths never stopping for a moment.

Feng Kuang belonged to the second type. After lying on the bed in the inner room for five minutes following Ye Dongping’s order, he couldn’t stand it anymore and ran out again, shouting, “Uncle Ye, I can’t sleep!”

“You kid, come sit here.”

Ye Dongping shook his head, put down the chopsticks he had just picked up to start eating, and picked up the nearby painting. “If you can’t sleep, then tell me how you came by this object?”

“Wh-what is this thing?”

Feng Kuang reached out to take it, but Ye Dongping swatted his hand away. “You collected it yourself, and you don’t even know? It was with those books.”

After thinking for a moment, Feng Kuang slapped his thigh. “I remember now, Uncle Ye! Is it the painting with the lumpy dirt mountain and two old men playing chess?”

Ye Tian was also very curious about the painting’s origin and quickly answered, “Yes, Brother Fengzi, that’s the one. How did you get it?”

“Collected it, of course. Hey, Uncle Ye, do you think this painting is an antique?”

Mentioning the painting sobered Feng Kuang up a bit. Originally, they had planned to open an antique shop. Although by a strange twist of fate it became a scrap collection station, Feng Kuang had always kept an eye out for old things.

“It is an antique. A Ming dynasty one, about four or five hundred years old now. Feng Zi, how did you collect it?” Hearing Feng Kuang ask back and forth without getting to the point, Ye Dongping was growing a bit impatient.

“Heh, so I really did hit the jackpot. I have to tell my uncle later…” Feng Kuang’s excited manner made Ye Dongping want to knock him on the head. Why couldn’t he just get to the point?

Feng Kuang lowered his voice and said mysteriously, “Uncle Ye, guess how I got it?”

“Xiao Tian, go fetch another basin of water to sober him up…” Ye Dongping had finally had enough. This kid was really pushing it.

Seeing Ye Dongping’s anger, Feng Kuang hurriedly said, “No, no, Uncle Ye, I’ll tell you, I promise! This painting… an old lady sold it to me.”

This happened just the other day. That day, Feng Kuang had pulled his handcart to West City to collect scrap. A group of old ladies were sitting in a row by some single-story houses, stitching shoe soles. Hearing Feng Kuang yelling to collect “wine bottles, old books, broken plastic,” they all got up and went inside to rummage for scrap.

These days, people collecting scrap, scavenging, or those offering services like knife-sharpening and scissor-grinding combed through households daily like passing a sieve, leaving them pretty much picked clean. What the old ladies brought out were just some old books and worn-out plastic washbasins.

After weighing these items and paying for them, Feng Kuang was about to leave when he suddenly noticed an object rolled up next to the basket where one old lady kept her shoe-sole stitching materials.

Thinking it was paper, he asked the old lady if she would sell it. To his surprise, she said the inside was cloth, used for cutting shoe patterns.

Seeing that the wooden rollers at both ends of the scroll were worn quite smooth, and with all the antique talk on his mind lately, he spent one yuan right then to buy the scroll, which felt somewhat heavy in his hand.