Chapter 19: Fortune and Misfortune Are Intertwined

Chang Yu was startled by the voice behind him and quickly turned his head to look for the speaker.

It was an elderly man dressed in a Zhongshan suit, with gold-rimmed glasses and his hands clasped behind his back. Though not tall, he exuded a scholarly aura.

His face was stern, his small eyes flashed behind the lenses, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, giving him the air of those old intellectuals from the movies.

"Young man, that hairpin of yours is worth far more than just ten thousand yuan. Don't let this crafty merchant deceive you."

The old man's gaze was fixed intently on the golden hairpin in the stall owner's hand, his serious expression rendering him somewhat severe.

"Old man, what are you talking about?" The stall owner was immediately displeased, irritation brewing within him.

Ignoring the stall owner, the old man explained to Chang Yu, "If I'm not mistaken, that hairpin is an antique from the Ming dynasty."

"The craftsmanship and the carving are exquisite. Such a fine hairpin could only have been worn by the young ladies of prominent families."

"If he's offering you just ten thousand yuan, what else could he be but a profiteer?"

The stall owner's brows knitted; he began to feel uneasy. He thought, How did I run into someone who knows the trade today? I can't let this old man ruin a good business.

He argued, "The current market price for gold is three hundred yuan per gram. This hairpin weighs thirty grams. By strict calculation, it's worth only nine thousand yuan."

"If I didn't see the young man was in need, I wouldn't have dug into my own pocket to add an extra thousand, to make it a tidy ten thousand for him."

"No matter which gold recycling shop he takes it to, he won’t get a higher price than mine."

"My offer is absolutely fair. Old man, don't fail to recognize a good deed!"

But the old man was unmoved by the stall owner's words, replying with calm assurance, "A merchant always seeks profit. If you could pocket it for nine thousand, why wouldn't you haggle the price down? Yet, you add money instead—what else could you be hiding?"

"Young man, listen to me. Don't sell your hairpin to him. Sell it to me. I'm willing to pay fifty thousand yuan for this Ming dynasty hairpin!"

"At this price, you won't be shortchanged. If you don't believe me, take the hairpin and ask any expert in antiques."

Chang Yu drew a sharp breath, staring dumbfounded at the hairpin, as if he had been struck senseless by a windfall from the heavens.

Fifty thousand yuan—fifty thousand! An astronomical sum he had never dared imagine, five times what the stall owner had offered!

Never had he expected that the same hairpin, sold as gold or as an antique, would command such drastically different prices.

One side offered ten thousand, the other fifty thousand. Even a fool would know whom to sell the hairpin to.

"Are you really serious, sir?" Chang Yu swallowed hard, feeling a little dizzy.

"We'll do a straightforward exchange—cash for goods. Let's go to the bank and make the transfer right now!" The old man, seeing hope, quickly took out his bank card, gesturing eagerly to Chang Yu.

The stall owner's face darkened at once. Seeing his cooked duck about to fly away, he cried out unwillingly:

"Hey, old man! That’s out of line!"

"I’d already agreed on the price with this young man, and he said he’d sell the hairpin to me. How can you just barge in and steal my business?"

"Young man, don’t be taken in by this old fellow’s nonsense! There are plenty of swindlers around these days—you’d better be careful!"

The words were cutting, the implication clear: he was calling the old man a con artist.

But Chang Yu was no fool; he could see the truth of the matter. The stall owner’s evasive eyes and insincere manner only made his guilt more obvious.

If he had nothing to hide, why look so uneasy?

"Yes, we discussed the price, but I never agreed to sell it to you," Chang Yu said, boldly twisting the facts as if he hadn’t just accepted the deal moments ago.

While the stall owner was still in shock, Chang Yu swiftly snatched the hairpin back from his hand and tucked it securely into his own pocket, holding it tightly as if afraid the stall owner would snatch it back.

Without missing a beat, he then enthusiastically took the old man’s arm, his manner as affectionate as could be.

On the surface, Chang Yu appeared to be showing respect for the elderly, but in truth, he was worried the old man might disappear halfway to the bank.

Otherwise, why hold on to him so tightly?

"Grandpa, how can you go out alone at your age? No one to take care of you—what if you fall or get hurt?" Chang Yu said, his face plastered with an exaggeratedly polite smile.

"Never mind, let me support you. I just can’t let you walk alone."

"I remember there’s a bank just ahead. It’s still early, so the bank might not be open yet, but that’s fine—we’ll wait right at the door until it does."

"As soon as the bank opens, we’ll make the transfer and exchange the hairpin—no funny business from either side."

"And I have the utmost respect and admiration for anyone with a true passion for antiques."

"Since you want this hairpin so much, I’m willing to go the extra mile. Even if I’m late for work and my boss docks my pay, I’ll make sure this deal is done—to honor true lovers of antiques!"

"It’s not for anything else, just out of respect for people like you!"

For a moment, Chang Yu looked every bit the eager sycophant, bowing and nodding like a fawning dog.

He resolved secretly: if the old man tried to back out, he’d sit on him right there in the bank if he had to—this deal would go through, come what may!

If not, then no one was leaving today!

...

It was nearly midday when Chang Yu finally strolled leisurely into the guard booth, arriving well past his usual time.

A foolish grin kept creeping across his face as he repeatedly checked his phone, so lost in delight that Wang the Fatty, who was sitting inside the booth, was quite bewildered.

"Xiao Yu, what’s got you so giddy? Are you in love?" Wang the Fatty guessed he must be chatting with a girl.

Wasn’t that what young people did? Grinning at their phones while tapping out sweet nothings.

"Come on, Wang, you flatter me. As poor as I am, what heiress would look twice at me?"

Though his words were modest, Chang Yu couldn’t hide his pride.

Just moments earlier, after completing the transfer at the bank, he had watched with his own eyes as fifty thousand yuan landed in his account.

True to his word, as soon as the transfer was done, Chang Yu handed the hairpin over to the old man, and even got his phone number.

Earning fifty thousand out of thin air, Chang Yu felt as if he were walking on air, the world suddenly aglow with sweetness.

From the moment he left the bank, he had been staring at his bank balance, grinning like a fool as he walked.

Any passersby who saw him quickly veered away, keeping a safe distance of at least a meter.

Some, more blunt, muttered, "He must be a lunatic—best keep away, or you’ll get yourself into trouble…"

"If you’re not in love, then why are you grinning like that? Don’t tell me your condition is getting worse?" Wang the Fatty eyed him suspiciously, more convinced than ever of his previous diagnosis.

Clearly, this kid was beyond hope—the medicine must not be stopped!

"Speaking of your condition, here—take this." Wang the Fatty fished two small brown pill bottles from his pocket and handed them to Chang Yu with great care.

"I bought these specially from a doctor friend. They’re imported—expensive, but said to be very helpful for your illness. Don’t forget to take them!"

"Wang, how many times must I tell you? I’m not sick. Why don’t you believe me?" Chang Yu pushed the bottles back, resolute.

Why should a healthy man take medication for mental illness? It was absurd.

"Not sick?" Wang the Fatty’s voice jumped an octave, full of incredulity. "How can you not be sick?"

"What normal person walks down the street giggling to himself? What normal person claims to know immortals and talks about magic?"

"What normal person says he knows an old immortal, or goes around asking where Penglai Island is?"

"Take the medicine—it’s for your own good!" Wang the Fatty insisted, stuffing the bottles into Chang Yu’s pocket.

Then, with concern, he asked, "By the way, why are you so late today? Aren’t you afraid your pay will be docked?"

Wang the Fatty’s reminder made Chang Yu’s pride swell visibly.

He said with satisfaction, "Not afraid at all! What’s a five hundred yuan deduction? That’s just a drop in the bucket for me!"

And that was no exaggeration—he had over fifty thousand in his account now!

What was five hundred but pocket change?

Let them deduct it!

He’d been working here almost two years and had never once been late. Today, he intended to find out what it felt like to have his pay docked!

"Are all young people these days so full of themselves?" Wang the Fatty wondered, stroking his chin.

He knew well enough what Chang Yu’s finances were really like.

It was one thing to brag, but a man had to keep his feet on the ground.

Even if you boasted to the skies, you ought to know your own worth and limitations.

If you start believing your own tall tales, that’s just self-deception—and a sure sign of arrogance.

To keep Chang Yu from losing himself on life’s road, Wang the Fatty had prepared a motivational speech of eight thousand words to set him straight.

But before he could begin, a blaring car horn interrupted his train of thought, and his speech was forced back down.

"Who’s that in such a hurry to go home before the shift’s even over?" Wang the Fatty jumped up, opened the booth’s little window, and looked outside.

A red Audi sports car had stopped outside. From the window emerged the refined, mature face of Deputy General Manager Yao—obviously the one who had just sounded the horn.

"Wife, why are you leaving work so early today?" At the sight of Deputy General Manager Yao, Wang the Fatty immediately shed all displeasure and put on a radiant smile.

"Wang, something big has happened! I need to leave the company for a while." Yao’s expression was grave, weighed down by heavy thoughts.

"What’s wrong? Tell me." Wang the Fatty’s heart sank at her words, his face tense with worry.

Yao spoke rapidly: "I just heard that Zhao Dasheng was attacked last night during his business. Apparently, the assailant dropped from the sky and smashed a huge dent in Zhao Dasheng’s car roof."

"He dragged Zhao Dasheng out of the car, accusing him of trying to murder his girlfriend!"

"And as if that wasn’t enough, he beat up Boss Zhao right then and there."

"The news is out now. The police are already involved and are searching the whole city for the suspect!"

At this, Wang the Fatty’s face changed dramatically. He shouted, "What? Boss Zhao got beaten up?"

"Who did it? Do they have a death wish?"