Chapter 55: The Old Man at the Supermarket

Seeing the female corpse glare at me with that fierce expression once again, I could only sigh in resignation and nod.

I stepped outside alone.

To contact the owner of this shop, I needed to make a phone call.

I did not have a mobile phone.

While Erpang’s family was slightly better off than most, it was only by a small margin—certainly not to the extent of owning a phone. Only two people in the entire village possessed one: the village chief and Erpang the butcher.

Once I stepped out of the storefront, the bustling sounds of the street washed over me.

Daylight brought a sense of vitality back to the street. People were strolling about, browsing and shopping. Since this was the street for funeral goods, the majority of shops sold paper wreaths, joss paper, incense, and candles. A few other shops sold clay figurines and statues. Usually, the proprietors claimed these statues had been consecrated and could be invited into one's home to protect the family. Directly opposite us was a naming parlor—a place where people went to name newborns.

A well-chosen name could supposedly alter a person's destiny. However, not just anyone was qualified for the job. It was not simply a matter of picking a few aesthetically pleasing characters; one had to factor in the newborn’s Eight Characters of birth—the year, month, day, and hour—supplementing whatever elements were lacking in their destiny. Specific individuals required specific meanings and names, all intricately tied to the cyclical generation and restriction of the Five Elements.

This sort of work originally belonged to fortune-tellers, but over time, the market had gradually been usurped by amateurs who only understood a smattering of the craft. Even so, a few naming parlors still possessed genuine expertise. Whether one could stumble upon a master with true skill was entirely a matter of luck.

After taking a quick look at the surrounding environment, I spotted a small supermarket not far away. It was one of those prefabricated aluminum sheet structures—very small—but with two chest freezers placed at the entrance containing beverages and other items. A table outside held copies of *Zhiyin* magazine and newspapers, and that was where the public telephone was located.

I walked straight toward it.

Perhaps because I hadn't slept well, or perhaps for some other reason, I had only taken a few steps when I collided with someone running from the opposite direction.

"Hey! Are you blind or what? Watch where you're going!"

The person let out a startled cry in a woman's voice. I immediately looked up and saw a woman in her thirties. Her attire was thoroughly ordinary—I could only say she dressed slightly better than I did.

A look of displeasure clouded her face.

I, however, stood frozen in place.

Black Qi again!

Being able to see this black Qi was hardly a blessing. Back in our village, things were peaceful enough; everyone farmed the land every day, and very few people traveled to the cities. As a result, I rarely ever encountered such baleful black Qi. But the moment I set foot in the city, I had already run into it twice.

Noticing me staring blankly at her face, the woman snapped, "What are you looking at?!"

With that, she turned sharply and hurried away.

Her pace was frantic, almost turning into a run.

She was the one who had crashed into me, yet she still blamed me?

Well, serves you right if misfortune befalls you!

Paying the matter no mind, I walked up to the window of the small supermarket and picked up the telephone.

An old man, perhaps in his sixties or seventies and wearing reading glasses, manned the counter. He glanced at me once before returning his gaze to his newspaper.

"Local landlines require the area code," he said in an aged, gravelly voice, his eyes never leaving the newsprint.

I nodded and punched in a sequence of numbers—the number left behind on that machine in the shop, which I had memorized instantly thanks to my photographic memory.

"Beep... beep..."

A ringing tone sounded on the other end.

After a long while, just as I was beginning to think no one would answer, a disgruntled man's voice came through.

"Who is this? Calling at the crack of dawn, are you out of your mind?"

Hearing the man's tone, I frowned slightly, but kept my patience and asked, "Are you the owner of that self-service machine shop?"

There was a brief pause on the other end before he replied, "Yes and no."

Yes and no?

What kind of answer was that?

His voice resumed immediately.

"Let me tell you, everything in my shop has passed official quality inspections. If you break something, that's your problem, it has nothing to do with us. If you want to file a complaint, the complaint hotline is listed up there. If you're not complaining, then I'm the boss—state your business."

I let out a cold snort. So he was just afraid of people stirring up trouble and was trying to shirk responsibility.

"This isn't a matter of product quality," I said.

"Not a quality issue? Looking for a companion, are you? All my inventory is novelty gear, if you're looking for the real deal, don't ask me! I'm a law-abiding citizen!"

Hearing this man ramble on endlessly, I impatiently interrupted, "What are you rambling on and guessing about by yourself? Can you let me finish a sentence?"

This fellow certainly had a fast tongue. Several times I had wanted to get to the point, but he seamlessly hijacked the conversation.

"Not those things? Well, go on then, I'm listening!" he retorted, finally halting his machine-gun-like delivery.

Only then was I able to say, "We've taken an interest in your shop and wanted to ask about the price and terms. Do you have time to come over so we can talk?"

Another pause came from the other end.

"You've taken a fancy to my shop?" He sounded somewhat surprised.

"Yes, please come as soon as you can," I replied.

Upon receiving a definite confirmation, his attitude underwent a complete one-eight0-degree reversal in an instant!

"Oh my, oh my! The God of Wealth visiting at the crack of dawn—I thought it was just another prank call! My brother, don't take it to heart. There are simply too many idiots out there. Some break the equipment themselves and call me looking for a real person, others wake me up in the middle of the night just to ask where the bathroom is—all sorts of weirdos. Hearing your young voice, I really thought it was just another nuisance call..."

So that was how it was.

Still, exposing his personal phone number like that certainly brought its fair share of headaches. In this world, the number of bored individuals far exceeded one's wildest imagination. Naturally, I didn't take offense.

"So, do you have time right now? We're in quite a hurry."

The female corpse had seemed extremely anxious. Moreover, she had told me that if I wanted to find my family, I had to follow her instructions. That naturally made me anxious as well.

"Free! I'm totally free!" the man shouted eagerly on the other end. "Hang on a second, brother, I'll drive right over. My place isn't far from that shop, give me ten minutes! See you there!"

"Alright, see you there."

With that, I hung up the phone.

"How much, Grandpa?" I asked the old man reading the newspaper.

He still didn't raise his head, merely extending a hand and tapping on the characters written on the glass.

I looked up. A slip of paper was pasted there:

*[Within city limits: 0.5 yuan, Outside city limits: 1 yuan]*

I rummaged through my pockets and eventually handed over a five-yuan note.

The female corpse hadn't eaten much, and I had only consumed dry rations. Although Erpang had brought plenty of food, it mostly consisted of blood sausage and other greasy items. For reasons unknown since childhood, I couldn't stomach overly greasy food and could only manage light fare. Therefore, I planned to buy some food and water.

I selected two loaves of bread and three bottles of mineral water. I didn't dare buy any of the sodas; the money in my pocket was already sparse. If I spent it all, I truly had no idea how I would survive in this city.

If I couldn't even manage to stay alive, how could I ever find my family?

The old man merely glanced at the money, scooped up a one-yuan coin from the cash box, and tossed it toward me without uttering a single word throughout the entire transaction, remaining utterly absorbed in his newspaper. If he hadn't spoken that one sentence at the beginning, I would have taken him for a mute.

Just as I pocketed the change and the bread, ready to take my leave, that aged voice suddenly sounded again after I had taken a single step:

"That shop is unclean. Everyone on this street knows it. Whoever buys it lives to regret it."

*Unclean?*

My mind flashed back to those obscene items.

*Fine.*

They were indeed rather unclean for the eyes.

"Things are progressive in the city now, Grandpa. Don't be like us folks from the remote mountains; those are just normal businesses."

I thought that would be the end of it and I could finally leave.

Instead, he let out a cold chuckle. "Not that kind of unclean. Do you know why a street dealing in funeral goods has a shop like that?"