Chapter 37: To Help or Not to Help

Eastern Garden, outskirts.

Liu Xing rode his bicycle northward, soon finding the so-called “black market” that the porter had mentioned. To call it a black market was an overstatement; it was more like a small gathering place. Here, one could find vendors selling vegetables, meat, hardware and electrical goods, tools for carpenters and masons, kitchenware, daily necessities like oil, salt, sauces, and vinegar—so many varieties and such a dizzying array that Liu Xing was nearly overwhelmed.

Yet, although it was his first visit to this black market, Liu Xing wasn’t shocked, nor even slightly surprised. He was a man reborn from decades in the future; such lively scenes were commonplace to him, and the goods sold here hardly seemed anything unusual.

In his memory, this spot would later become a vegetable market for the outskirts—not immediately, but first a marketplace, which, as it grew and drew more people, eventually turned into a full-fledged vegetable market. His own home was somewhat distant from this market, so he seldom came.

Watching the crowds weaving through the streets, hearing the endless cries of sellers, he quickly parked his bicycle, locked it, and walked toward the stalls selling kitchenware. Along the way, he noticed that all transactions were cash-only, no tickets required. This made Liu Xing quite happy and even a little relieved. He sensed business opportunities here and felt that this black market was a spark destined to bring down the state supply cooperatives.

He also noticed something peculiar: the prices in the black market were remarkably low. Definitely not higher than the supply co-op; some items were downright cheap. Take cloth shoes, for instance: at the co-op, you needed a shoe ticket and most pairs cost three yuan. But here, some stalls offered them for just one yuan and eighty cents. Yes, one eighty. And there were dozens of styles.

Regrettably, none were children’s shoes. Not a single pair. All the cloth shoes were about size forty. Liu Xing understood why: the shoe vendors feared unsold inventory from too many sizes, so they stuck to common sizes when sourcing stock. It was understandable; after all, the black market had not received official approval, so traders worked day by day, living by the motto: “make it through today, worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

He also observed an unpleasant phenomenon: many unsavory youths prowled the market, swaggering through the streets. As he pondered this, he saw an egg-selling aunt chased out of the market by two burly young men—likely for failing to pay stall fees, or more accurately, protection money. The black market was ownerless; those with power naturally took advantage.

Yet, Liu Xing knew that, in fact, these youths collecting stall fees were a necessary evil. At least they could maintain some order; without them, chaos would reign, and it would be the vendors who suffered most.

Ahead, cries from the kitchenware stalls rang out across the open square.

Liu Xing snapped out of his reverie and, smiling, walked over. He hadn’t gone far when an elderly woman passing by was knocked to the ground, left sitting helplessly. Several passersby seemed about to help, but upon seeing her face, their expressions changed and they hurried away, keeping their distance.

Unsure what was going on, Liu Xing hesitated but ultimately helped the old woman up. After all, in the eighties, the notion of “staged accidents” didn’t exist. If he ignored her, his conscience would trouble him.

“Thank you, child,” the old woman said gratefully, clutching Liu Xing’s hand. She’d fallen hard and was still unsteady.

“It’s nothing, just a small kindness,” Liu Xing replied, helping her to a nearby stone to sit, smiling gently.

At that moment, the surrounding pedestrians scattered like frightened birds; even the nearby vendors hastily packed up their wares and fled.

“What’s going on?” Liu Xing turned to look. He saw a burly, bearded man, face bristling with anger, leading four or five young men toward him. His heart sank—helping someone had landed him in trouble.

But the old woman reassured him, “Don’t be afraid, child. That’s my son, Xie Zhong. He’s in charge here.”

“Oh!” Liu Xing breathed easier.

Yet Xie Zhong, the old woman’s son, stopped in front of him, furious. “You brat! Did you knock my mother down?”

Xie Zhong’s voice was booming, like a loudspeaker, making Liu Xing’s ears ring. He covered his ears, about to explain, when the old woman raised her cane and, without warning, struck Xie Zhong squarely on the head, leaving a large bump. She didn’t stop there, swinging again at his legs. “Why are you shouting? Now that you’re a little official, you act so arrogant. If you ever become township chief, would you start killing people?”

“Ma! That kid knocked you down, why are you defending him?” Xie Zhong said, rubbing his head, feeling aggrieved. But no matter how humiliated he felt in public, he could never go against his mother.

“He didn’t knock me down. The culprit ran off long ago. This child helped me up. If you won’t be grateful, at least don’t make false accusations. Are you itching for a beating?” the old woman scolded, glaring at Xie Zhong.

“Oh?” Xie Zhong realized he’d almost made a grave mistake. Embarrassed, he hurriedly apologized to Liu Xing, “Little brother, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t know you were the one who helped my mother.”

“It’s fine. Just be careful next time,” Liu Xing replied, recognizing that Xie Zhong was no ordinary person. He smiled and let it go.

He was about to leave, but the old woman held him back. “Child, did you come to this black market to buy something?”

“Yes,” Liu Xing nodded. “My sister has split from her husband’s family; I want to buy her some daily necessities. You know how it is—the supply co-op won’t sell without tickets.”

“That’s true.” The old woman initially wanted to show Liu Xing around, but after a few steps, sweat appeared on her brow. Unable to continue, she turned to Xie Zhong, “Son, accompany this young man around. Buy him whatever he needs. Consider it our way of repaying him.”

“Alright!” Xie Zhong agreed promptly.

“I’ll head home, then,” the old woman said apologetically to Liu Xing. “My name is Tang Guizhi; I live nearby. If my son bullies you, just shout my name. I’ll make sure he gets a good beating.”

“Lionhead Xie”—clearly Xie Zhong’s nickname—was obvious. Liu Xing was a clever man and caught the reference, but his heart skipped a beat. The name was strangely familiar. Thinking carefully, he suddenly froze.

If he remembered correctly, this Lionhead Xie would become the township chief of Zhangmu in the future. He didn’t know how such a rough, burly man managed to become township chief, but one thing was certain: Lionhead Xie had powerful backing.

Even so, Xie Zhong was eventually dismissed for his volatile temper.

But after returning to civilian life, Xie Zhong retained considerable influence. The locals around Zhangmu township liked to seek his help for grievances. Liu Xing himself had sought him out before his rebirth, bringing a good pack of cigarettes. The matter was resolved, and he even received two packs of cigarettes and a pair of bottles of liquor in return.

Thinking back now, it felt as if it had happened only yesterday.

Xie Zhong was oblivious to Liu Xing’s thoughts, nor did he know Liu Xing already recognized him. Seeing his mother’s stern warning, he promised, “Ma, don’t worry. I’d never bully a child.”

“Good, I’ll be off then.” Tang Guizhi smiled at Liu Xing and, leaning on her cane, headed east. Xie Zhong quickly sent two young men to accompany her, afraid she might have another accident.

Turning to Liu Xing, Xie Zhong said, “Little brother, just tell me what you need. I guarantee you’ll get the best prices in all of HY City.”

“I’m not sure exactly. My sister’s set up her own household, so I want to buy things like kitchenware, condiments, toothbrushes, towels, soap—daily necessities,” Liu Xing replied with a smile. “Oh, and I’d like to buy a set of leatherworking tools,” he added after a pause.

Shoemaker’s tools, whether at the black market or tool shops, were generally unavailable, so he opted for leatherworking tools, since many of them overlapped—hole punchers, hand-operated rivet molds, and so forth.

“That’s a lot. Do you know how much it’ll cost?” Xie Zhong sized Liu Xing up, noting the straw sandals on his feet, shaking his head.

“No idea. I’ll buy as much as my money allows; I never said I had to buy everything,” Liu Xing replied, spreading his hands.

“That’s true.” Xie Zhong stroked his beard. “Someone once asked me to buy a full set of household goods for a newly separated family—it cost nearly sixty yuan, not including oil, rice, chicken, duck, fish, or pork.”

“Only sixty yuan?” Liu Xing was startled. “I know the prices for oil and meat—no way you could get those with just a few dozen yuan.”

“You don’t believe me?” Xie Zhong chuckled. “How about you give me sixty yuan, and I’ll have everything gathered within half an hour?”

“Alright!” Without hesitation, Liu Xing took out sixty yuan and handed it to Xie Zhong. He trusted Xie Zhong, knowing he wasn’t the type to take advantage of others.

But Xie Zhong was still surprised—not by Liu Xing’s generosity, but by his ability to produce sixty yuan at once, something Xie Zhong hadn’t expected. Still, he accepted the money. “Wait here. I’ll have my men help buy the goods. If all goes well, it’ll be done within half an hour.”

“Alright.” Liu Xing waited.

Xie Zhong smiled, took the money, and strode away with his men. The surrounding vendors shook their heads, some whispering quietly.

“Is that kid stupid? Lionhead Xie is the local tyrant here; he’ll take the money and never deliver.”

“Yeah! If the authorities had any control here, Lionhead Xie would’ve been locked up long ago!”

“Shh! Don’t say things like that. I’m trying to make money here to feed my family. If Lionhead Xie gets arrested, we’re all finished!”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know Lionhead Xie has people behind him? Otherwise, how could he collect protection fees?”

“So you’re saying he won’t just take the kid’s money and run?”

“Sixty yuan is nothing! Xie Zhong has plenty of money; you just don’t know it.”

“Really? Guess we were overthinking it.”

…