noveltune Chapter 65: The Words of a Dead Man Hidden at the Bottom of the Ashtray
Chapter 65: The Words of a Dead Man Hidden at the Bottom of the Ashtray
When the ashtray was pushed in front of Cheng Xiaojin, the tea on the table began to ripple on its own.
It spreads outwards from the rim of the cup, circle after circle.
Cheng Xiaojin stared at the ashtray, almost unable to continue his banter.
It has a copper base, is square, with polished edges and corners, and a ring of black grime on the bottom, indicating that it hasn't been touched in over twenty years.
Boss Lin looked at him.
"Boss Cheng, do you recognize him?"
Cheng Xiaojin reached for a melon seed, picked one up, but didn't peel it.
The sunflower seed shell spun halfway between my fingers, and blood seeped from the wound under the gauze, the red seeping into the edge of the white cloth.
He smiled.
"I recognize it."
Boss Lin didn't say anything.
Cheng Xiaojin put the sunflower seeds back in the dish and peeked into the ashtray.
"I've seen this thing a lot when I was a kid. My dad used it to knock on his cigarette, my grandpa used it to weigh down paper, and I used it to crack walnuts."
"Mr. Lin, if you had said you liked this earlier, my family used to have an enamel spittoon with blue flowers, an old Beijing industrial style, which would have matched your clubhouse quite well."
The secretary's expression changed.
Boss Lin didn't get angry; he simply pushed the ashtray forward another half an inch.
"Your father left it with me back then."
"You've kept it quite well."
Cheng Xiaojin looked up and smiled warmly.
"Let me state first that my Cheng family is poor, and we do not recognize any estate management fees."
Boss Lin stared at his hand.
"Don't you want to know why he stayed back then?"
Cheng Xiaojin pulled her sleeve down to cover her fingertips.
"Yes, I do."
After he finished speaking, he picked up his teacup again.
The tea had gone completely cold, and its bitterness made my tongue feel tight.
"But what I really want to know is, did Mr. Lin bring out my old ashtray to play the victim, or to sell his products?"
Boss Lin smiled.
"Boss Cheng, now I understand why your father dared to come in alone."
"He's so talkative?"
He doesn't talk as much as you.
"That's because my mother taught me well; if you talk at the dinner table, you won't get enough to eat, but I was disobedient when I was little."
Upon hearing this, Cheng Xiaojin felt a tightness in his chest.
Lu Mingzhu's sickly pale face flashed in his mind, but he forcefully pushed it back down.
We must not act rashly.
Inside this room, Boss Lin was just waiting for him to cause trouble.
Boss Lin raised his hand, and his secretary took a half step back. The only sound in the private room was the soft clinking of tea lids against porcelain cups.
Mr. Lin said, "Back then, your father sat here with a wet rubbing paper on the table."
"He asked me, 'When the Ouroboros collects nine stakes, is it iron or a door?'"
Cheng Xiaojin's fingertips hovered over the edge of the teacup, unsure of what to say.
Mr. Lin continued, "I told him that people in business only care about how much something is worth."
"and then?"
Then he laughed.
Boss Lin turned the ouroboros ring halfway around.
He said, "You people will sell yourselves into this place sooner or later."
Cheng Xiaojin failed to respond once again.
Boss Lin looked at Cheng Xiaojin.
"After that night, he left the ashtray behind and took away half a sheet of rubbing paper."
"You want the third array diagram? Fine."
"You'd better let me see if you're qualified to take over the legacy left by your father."
Cheng Xiaojin smiled.
"As for qualifications, I've been setting up a stall in Panjiayuan for over ten years and no one has ever issued me one."
"If Mr. Lin has any connections, please help me get one, preferably with an official seal, so I can use it to intimidate people when the market management office checks my stall."
He reached out his left hand to touch the ashtray.
Boss Lin's gaze followed.
Cheng Xiaojin's left hand still has about 20% of its tactile sensation, which is even more sluggish through the gauze.
A ring of water droplets seeped from the black grime in the ashtray, as fine as a copper body sweating, carrying the smell of old well mud and damp tobacco.
The tea on the table was moved aside, its pattern changing from round to flat, and it swirled around the bottom of the ashtray.
As soon as Cheng Xiaojin's fingertips touched it, a chill crept into his bones, and the light in front of him flickered.
The private room was the same, and the table was still the same, but there was an extra person at the table.
Cheng Shouyi, who looked much younger, sat opposite him with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, ash on his shirt collar, and blood dripping from the back of his right hand.
A young man was sitting opposite him.
The man's eyebrows and eyes weren't as heavy as they are now, and he wasn't wearing the old ring on his hand; he was only wearing a thinner silver band.
On the table were two things: a copper plate with nine small holes along its edge, with fine lines engraved between the holes, and half a sheet of wet rubbing paper, with one corner of the paper pressed under the ashtray.
Cheng Shouyi tapped the ashtray twice with the unlit cigarette.
Du, du.
Cheng Xiaojin felt a heaviness in his chest.
Cheng Shouyi spoke through the afterimage, his voice carried across the water.
"I'll let you take a look at the third one; if you touch the seventh, the door will close up."
Young Boss Lin reached for the copper plate, but Cheng Shouyi blocked him with a cigarette.
"Don't rush, the ouroboros eats its own tail, and in the end, all that's left is its mouth."
"If you want to find the door, you have to ask if there's anyone inside first."
The screen is shaky.
The blood on the tea table flowed down into the bottom of the ashtray, seeping into the ring of black grime. Cheng Xiaojin's fingertips were numb with pain. He tried to pull his hand away, but his fingertips were gripped by the cold, wet grip, as if someone was pinching his nails from under the ashtray.
The smoky aura traveled along his fingertips, and the stale smell from the ashtray immediately adhered to him.
This is different from touching iron; Zhenhai Iron is heavy and cold, formed by the 600-year-old pressure dam.
The ashtray smelled much more chaotic: there was the smell of smoke, the smell of blood, the sour smell of paper soaked in well water, and the warmth of Cheng Shouyi's hand.
He gritted his teeth, a smile still on his face.
"Mr. Lin, are you sure this ashtray is genuine?"
Boss Lin looked at him.
"You can't tell by feeling?"
"I found it."
Cheng Xiaojin slowly raised her head.
"It's an old copper-plated model from twenty years ago, commonly used in offices. The black grime underneath is a mixture of cigarette tar and tea stains, it's worthless."
"In Panjiayuan, if you meet someone knowledgeable, you'll get fifty; if you meet a sucker, you'll get two hundred; but if you meet a boss like you with a passion for Southeast Asia, the starting bid will be eight hundred thousand."
The secretary couldn't help but take a step forward.
Stop pretending you're confused.
Cheng Xiaojin turned to look at him.
"Hey, Secretary, what's the rush? Isn't your wrist hurting anymore?"
"If you don't wash those five marks from Iron Man's scratch on you, they'll grow into a water tank membership badge, and the swimming pool will have to give you a discount."
The secretary's lips turned pale, and Boss Lin raised his hand to press him down.
Cheng Xiaojin used his witty remark to pull his hand away from the ashtray. The moment his fingertips left, half of the water droplets in the ashtray receded.
The tea stains on the table dissipated, and the commotion from before vanished completely.
But Cheng Xiaojin had already seen it: the third array diagram, half a wet rubbing paper, and his father's words about the door being locked from the inside.
Boss Lin did not miss his changes.
"What did you see?"
Cheng Xiaojin put his left hand into his sleeve and pressed his right hand against his wrist under the table.
"I see your place really needs dehumidification. The ashtrays are sweating, and if you stay here for another two days, the wooden floors will grow mushrooms."
Mr. Lin's ring tapped against the rim of the cup.
"Boss Cheng, playing dumb won't work."
"I wasn't pretending."
Cheng Xiaojin raised her eyes.
"You're trying to pressure me with my dad's old things so I'll take you to the seventh one."
"But you forgot one thing."
"What?"
"If my dad really wanted to leave something for you, he wouldn't have just left an ashtray."
Cheng Xiaojin leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice.
"He's stingy; he won't even light a cigarette. If you really want to give him a gift, he'll at least make you write a receipt."
Boss Lin's gaze darkened.
"Do you think he left the ashtray to give you a way out?"
I don't think so.
Cheng Xiaojin pointed to the bottom of the ashtray.
"In the Cheng family, there's a rule: whoever gets their hands on an old item first has to check its condition."
"If everything is clean, we can still discuss things."
"Don't trust people if their background isn't clean."
As he spoke, he picked up the handkerchief from the table.
Boss Lin didn't stop him.
The secretary took a half step forward, but was stopped by a look from Boss Lin.
Cheng Xiaojin wrapped her fingers in a handkerchief and slowly turned the ashtray over.
The copper base is facing up, the black grime is so thick it looks dark, and there is a hardened layer of dried soot on the edges.
He wiped it with a handkerchief, but it didn't come off. He wiped it again, but it still didn't come off.
Cheng Xiaojin smiled.
"Mr. Lin, your storage conditions are excellent; the black grime has even developed into a patina."
As he spoke, he gently pressed his thumb against the edge of the black grime, and the red chopstick powder remained eerily quiet in the crevices of his nail, while the Qianlong Tongbao coin felt cool against his palm.
The lingering smell from the bottom of the ashtray recognized the Cheng family's blood and slowly loosened its grip.
A thin line was visible in the middle of the black grime. The line wasn't newly cracked; it was there all along, but it was covered by the e-liquid.
Cheng Xiaojin's heart tightened, but his hands didn't stop. He changed the angle of the handkerchief and used the wiping motion to block Boss Lin's view.
The black grime curled up at the edge, revealing a small vertical hook underneath. It was so small that someone unfamiliar with the subject would mistake it for a chip on the copper body.
When Cheng Xiaojin saw the hook, her father's words from years ago echoed in her ears.
If you see this hook, don't shout. First, check if there are any living people around.
He didn't shout, and his breathing didn't even falter.
Boss Lin asked, "Is there something?"
"have."
Cheng Xiaojin turned the ashtray upside down to show him, deliberately pressing down on the half with the vertical hook, revealing only a patch of black grime.
"Look, this is 20-year-old e-liquid, the real deal."
"Mr. Lin, if you want to sell this to me, you'll have to give me a discount."
"These are my father's belongings, and they should be returned free of charge. However, considering your good service in keeping them safe, I'll give you two hundred and fifty yuan. That's the most I can give you."
Boss Lin didn't laugh.
"Boss Cheng, I'm not talking to you about ashtrays."
"So you're talking to me about feelings?"
"Let's talk about the seventh case."
Cheng Xiaojin put the ashtray back on the table. Just as he was about to stop, his fingertips accidentally picked up a piece of rolled-up black grime.
A crack appeared in the black grime and dry skin, revealing a row of small characters engraved on the copper base.
It was very shallow, but Cheng Xiaojin could see it clearly.
Four words.
Half a paper box waist.