Chapter 512: Chapter 40: The 1995 Counterfeit Cigarette Incident
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Thank you "Xiao Yehu" for the two fan tickets, thank you Youzi for the fan ticket.
Every time the unscrupulous Fu Zi tries to be lazy, your fan tickets always whip me forward. Today, there’s still the third watch for the fan tickets, it’s the end of the month, hold tight to your fan tickets and recommendation tickets, don’t let go now.
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The elderly man who weaves mats was finishing the edges of a mat, the rattan mat shone like flowing silk in a dimly lit room, flickering like a feeble oil lamp.
The newly woven mat differed from the ones Xiao Xian sold in the mat shop these past few days; it wasn’t grape-purple, but an almost black shade of purple, elegant yet mysterious.
This room, located on the top floor of Fang Street Elderly Home on the northernmost side, was a treasure in summer.
The room was small but airy, the north-facing window was always open, bringing in a gentle breeze. The outside wall was covered with lush ivy, which could alleviate the heat from the top floor during summer.
Upon entering the room, the first thing that caught one’s attention was the tendrils of ivy creeping in from the windowsill, next to the wall on the right side, by the simple camp bed, neatly stacked white bedding, and a fluffy pillow that had just been sunned, with a writing desk next to the bed.
Simple and clean, this room felt as if it was far from the outside world’s heat and irritability.
The tranquility in one’s heart was shattered upon seeing that shining mat; Xiao Xian stared fixedly at it with wide eyes.
"Old Yu, look at how your craftsmanship keeps improving. Such a mat, so intricately and tightly woven, probably doesn’t even leave a hole the size of a needle’s eye. Tsk tsk, excellent, it wasn’t in vain that I made a special effort to get you twenty pounds of Black Purple Vine from North Korea. It really came in handy," Mao Dazhu said, eyes lighting up at the sight of the mat, reaching out for a touch.
Now, in the midst of summer, a good rattan mat woven from Black Purple Vine material was truly a treasure for the shop. No wonder Mao Dazhu, accustomed to seeing all sorts of bamboo-weaved products, was so animated.
However, just as Mao Dazhu touched the corner of the mat, the old man called Old Yu quickly rolled up the mat and slipped it into a silk sack he had prepared beforehand, making it difficult for Mao Dazhu to even touch a corner again.
"Sorry, this mat is not for sale. I’m taking it as a gift for someone. As for the vine material used, I’ve already deducted it from my money," the elder Yu Shan Yang spoke with a solemn authority that scared Mao Dazhu’s hand away from the mat.
"A gift? Don’t try to swindle me, Old Yu. Since you’ve lived here, I haven’t seen you mingle with friends or relatives. Even when your own Xiao Yu came to visit, you coldly sent him away. Are you intending to keep the mat for your son?" Mao Dazhu wasn’t really insistent on selling the mat. The Five Gentlemen’s mats were severely challenged by the trendy new mats; he needed to maintain the shop’s reputation.
That’s why he went through all the trouble of getting this type of vine material from North Korea, only to find out that Old Yu had other plans when he turned it into a fine mat.
"There are only sons who honor their fathers in this world, not fathers who dote on their sons in return. Don’t covet the mat. If you truly want it, I can weave you a pillow mat with the remaining Black Vine material, and then you can hang it wherever you please," Yu Shan Yang was a man of his word and didn’t care about the addition of Xiao Xian in the room or what his visit was about, but he picked up the wrapped mat and walked out.
Listening to Mao Dazhu’s earlier words, Yu Shan Yang should be a few years younger than him, but watching Old Yu’s steps, which were slightly staggering, he seemed frailer than Mao Dazhu.
"That mat," Xiao Xian muttered to himself as he watched the man leave.
"No hope for that now. It’s a shame, such a shame. Old Yu is even harder than a stone in an outhouse; there goes my mat. Well, let’s tidy up the leftover vine on the ground. A pillow mat is still a mat, after all." Mao Dazhu grumbled, picking up the scattered Black Purple Vine, waiting for the official-sounding Mr. Yu to return.
"Uncle Mao, you said you know how to weave mats, right?" Xiao Xian called out to Mao Dazhu.
"Yes, it’s ironic, that old youngster learned how to weave mats from me. When he first arrived here five or six years ago, he wasn’t so haughty, spending all day with a sullen face, sitting in the room, as dreadful as can be. An ungrateful wretch, that old youngster," Mao Dazhu bemoaned, wondering why he always ended up doing thankless tasks.
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