Tzemin tells us about a bargain that the busker was trapped into by his godmother, in this part of his autobiographical novel. An exclusive for Different Truths.

Since I had messed up the big fat uncle’s barbershop, the store in front of our house has been standing idle for months. My far-famed prestige had such awe that no other shopkeepers dared to renew the rent. Gradually, it became a venue for the neighbours to chat with the elders. When the adults got together, I always sat next to my mother.

On the one hand, I tried hard to find those glorious days of the barbershop back in the past, or at least find some strangers to observe them again. Of course, what I was thinking was never a secret from my mother’s eyes, so she held me tightly. She did this to prevent me from messing around.

Don’t think that only my mother knew me, my godmother, who lived across the street was also good enough to understand me. The two families were very close. She watched me grow up, loved and cared for me as if I was her child.

There was a middle-aged selling busker, who had a goatee, named Jincai Ciou, came to the village on some days. For him, the village was not so unfamiliar. He often came here. The only danger was that he had not first found out who was the key member living here. He was an honest businessman, unaware of the deception. He usually carried two bundles of cloth or other groceries on a shoulder pole.

Like other days, he came back to the door of our store to prepare for business.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It’s very satisfying to see so many of you here.” Uncle Ciou bawled in a loud voice, “Today’s drapery style is very good. Why don’t you all look? You can see every drapery here for suits, cheongsams, or skater dresses. It’s my pleasure. Please pick whatever you like.”

“Jincai, o Jincai, is there a red cheongsam cloth,” asked my godmother.

“Of course, how about this one? Look at the lively and vivid peony patterns, the colour is so pleasing, and the sparkling silk. Do you like it, Ms. Zeng?”

“It looks like it’s very good, I’m just afraid that the price is too expensive,” my godmother put the cloth on her body, signaling with her hands as well as shouting. A vast crowd came together around her. They vied with one another in offering advice. I was at the side, smirking while watching it all. And my mother touched my head and smiled at me. If I was happy, my mother would be happy.

“If it suits your taste, I can naturally offer you a discount,” seeing that there was some business to do. Uncle Ciou was more aggressive in selling.

“How much is per foot for, Jincai,” my godmother asked tentatively.

“You do have an artistic eye for clothes, dear madam. I can offer you some really big discounts, just 12 yuan per foot,” replied Uncle Ciou.

“Twelve yuan per foot! Are you going to rob,” my godmother retorted, angrily?

“Oh, no! dear madam. This is a very good fabric. One foot twelve, it is not expensive at all,” Uncle Ciou had alternately whined over the grievances. “This cloth is so noble. You can tell the difference, can’t you? Looking at the big red peony flower on it. It will make you happy anytime when you put it on.”

“Of course, I can see that. Don’t be such a brown-noser. Come on, man. You are the big boss, aren’t you? Tell me a more realistic price.”

“It’s really cheap. There is no way to cut the price anymore. This price will leave me no profit,” Uncle Ciou bowed and said. His exaggerated movement made me

giggle.

Great! The show was on, there were more than a dozen people on the scene, but they were divided into two groups. Some people kept pushing that my godmother should buy it, but others insisted that he should give a lower sale price. These two gangs in our hall just kept getting more and more interesting. When looking at it all, I was ecstatic and delightful. Mom smiled but still held me tight. These were too much for me. She was afraid that I was so excited that I would be up to some astounding feats.

Maybe it was too exciting. Maybe it was God’s will. My godmother suddenly noticed me and stared at me, then said to Uncle Ciou, “Rather, let’s do it this way, we can make a bet. What do you think?”

“A bet! What kind of bet?” Uncle Ciou was a little confused about this sudden change.

“Do you see the little boy beside me?” My godmother used her left hand, which was full of jewels, rings, bracelets to point at me, with a strange look on her face, “Wanna bet? Would you dare to come with me for a plunge gambling on the little boy? Come on, say something, Jincai.”

“What can we gamble on that little boy?” Uncle Ciou asked curiously.

“There are things, you don’t know. Let me tell you, but don’t be scared after listening,” my godmother was goading him with reverse psychology, “Even Big-Chubby was destroyed in his hands.”

The Big-Chubby that my godmother mentioned was the barbershop owner, who was forced by me to close the store.

(To be continued)

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