Chapter Twenty-Three: Inquiring About Sothing
Chen Nuo soon realized that carrying the title of "the hero who was dating the Dean’s daughter" ca with a side effect: it beca very difficult to fall asleep in class.
On the first day of school, during his math, Chinese, and history classes, Chen Nuo was called upon three tis.
He had beco the target of everyone’s attention.
During the break, a boy sitting in the front row couldn’t help turning around to complain, "Bro, it’s cool that you’re dating the school beauty, but you’re dragging down with you!"
Chen Nuo glanced at him. Oh, it was that fellow who read *The Legend of Double Dragons of the Tang Dynasty* during class—another hero indeed.
His na was, um, Luo Qing.
It was a classic case of ’when the city gate catches fire, the fish in the moat suffer.’
Chen Nuo had beco the focal point of the teachers’ attention in every subject; their gazes always drifted towards him during class. Consequently, Luo Qing, who sat in front of Chen Nuo, was also included in the zone of intense scrutiny.
Luo Qing felt rather helpless.
In one morning, he had only managed to flip through seven or eight pages of the second volu of *The Chronicles of Searching for Qin* that he had just borrowed.
Around the year 2000, students like Luo Qing at school were really going through an awkward phase.
The older generation of authors like Jin Yong had either passed away or stopped writing. In the ten years since Huang Yi’s novels had co out, those who read them had likely finished them all. After finishing the classic masterpieces, classes beca unbearably boring.
A book drought!
What to do if there was really nothing to read? Those knock-offs titled sothing like "Gulong the Great" or "Jin Yong’s Famous Works" were utterly insufferable; you couldn’t force yourself to read them even if you held your nose.
Chen Nuo actually felt quite sympathetic towards people like Luo Qing.
Just wait a bit longer, kid. In a few years, Luo Sen’s elegant tales will make their way here, and then, after a little more waiting, authors like Blood Red and Dance will make their debut.
Becoming sowhat interested, he casually chatted with Luo Qing for a few sentences and found the guy to be quite unconventional. Having digested a bellyful of works by Jin Yong, Gu Long, Liang Yusheng, Wen Rui’an, and Huang Yi, Chen Nuo was no stranger to them; in his previous life, during the eight years he had confined himself, there wasn’t a boring thing he hadn’t done.
"If you ask , Jin Yong’s best work is still *The White Horse Galloping in the West Wind*. That line, ’All of those are very good, but I just happen to dislike them,’ it really makes you feel..."
Luo Qing’s eyes lit up, and he slapped his thigh. "Yes! Wow, Chen Nuo, I didn’t realize you were a fellow aficionado!"
The two of them spent so ti cursing Chen Jialuo and Hu Fei for being scumbags and heartbreakers, then reminisced about Xiao Feng, the Khitan. Luo Qing almost regarded Chen Nuo as his only kindred spirit.
They then made plans to go to the computer arcade and play StarCraft after school.
But when school actually ended, Chen Nuo walked out of the school gates, strolled along the roadside for a bit, and then couldn’t help but curse.
"Fuck, where’s my bike?!"
The bike was gone, but the chain lock was still there, lying bare on the ground.
Luo Qing, standing nearby, felt sowhat sympathetic but also a touch of schadenfreude. The trip to the computer arcade was naturally off. Chen Nuo had to go buy a bike, or else he’d have to run to school the next morning.
After waving goodbye to Luo Qing, Chen Nuo walked east along the main street for two blocks, found a Giant bike shop, and bought a brand-new mountain bike.
Riding the bike back towards the school entrance, he parked it slightly to one side, locked it, then headed to the small convenience store by the gate. He bought a soda and sipped it leisurely through a straw.
He took nearly twenty minutes to finish that bottle of soda, just hanging around the school entrance without leaving.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
A shout ca from behind him.
Chen Nuo turned to see the school gatekeeper inside the gatehouse, arms crossed, eyeing him suspiciously.
"School’s out, why aren’t you ho? What are you loitering around here for?"
The old gatekeeper had probably been watching Chen Nuo for so ti.
"Grandpa, I’m waiting for soone."
Chen Nuo approached with a smile. "Sir, may I ask your esteed surna?"
"Qin."
Oh?
Filled with a sudden respect, Chen Nuo took out his cigarette pack and offered one to the old man.
"Kid, don’t just hang around. You’re not planning to steal anything, are you?" Gatekeeper Grandpa Qin brought the cigarette to his nose and sniffed. "Don’t get up to any mischief, hear?"
"No way. See, I’m wearing the school uniform. I’m a student of No. 8 Middle School too."
"That doesn’t an anything," Grandpa Qin shook his head. "Last year, two punks in school uniforms sneaked in after school, went into the cafeteria, and stole money."
Chen Nuo was exasperated. He took out his student ID to show the old man. The old man waved his hand, shambled back into the gatehouse, but re-erged shortly. He glanced at Chen Nuo, who was still squinting and seemingly waiting for sothing, then passed him a small stool.
"What are you waiting for, huh? Waiting for a female student to get out? You young rascal, up to no good!" The old man sneered, dropping the stool on the ground. "Sit here. It’s sheltered from the wind."
Chen Nuo chuckled. "How can you be so sure I’m waiting for a female student?"
"A young buck like you, if not for a girl, what the hell else would you be waiting for?"
Heh, you certainly live up to your na!
As dusk approached, a scrawny boy, all skin and bones, ambled along the base of a wall, a tattered schoolbag on his back. His eyes darted about as he walked down the street.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up when he saw a brand-new Giant mountain bike locked to a utility pole at the side of the road.
The lad approached it, circled the pole, then walked away.
Before long, he reappeared from another direction on the street. This ti, he was not alone.
He was now with an older, taller companion. They deliberately walked one behind the other, maintaining a distance of three to five ters.
The taller one stopped by the roadside near the school gate and lit a cigarette. He took drags, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Then, with a hand hanging by his trouser pocket, he made a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture.
The skinny kid swaggered towards the Giant mountain bike, fumbled in his worn schoolbag for a mont, and pulled out a thin tal strip. He began to pick the lock...
Soon, the lock clicked open. The skinny kid pushed the bike onto the road and mounted it. The taller one tossed his cigarette butt and hopped onto the back. They sped off in a flash.
Chen Nuo watched with a smile the whole ti. Only then did he stand up from the stool and call into the gatehouse, "Grandpa Qin, I’m heading off."
Tangzi Street had once been quite famous in Jinling City—it was renowned for its second-hand goods market.
The street wasn’t wide, flanked by old residential complexes, with dozens of shops dealing in second-hand goods dotted along its length.
A small number of these shops sold used ho appliances, but most traded in second-hand bicycles, e-bikes, and motorcycles.
In fact, many long-ti residents of Jinling City knew it as sothing else: the main trading post for stolen bikes.
Around the year 2000, when the economy wasn’t as developed, legitimate second-hand bikes were scarce. A significant portion of the bikes here were stolen goods being fenced.
There was a saying among the old-tirs in Jinling: If your bicycle disappears, take a stroll down Tangzi Street. You might just find it in one of the second-hand bike shops.
But what could you do even if you found it? The people running these places, openly dealing in stolen goods, were shady characters. Ordinary folks couldn’t afford to provoke them or endure the consequences; they could only grit their teeth and bear it.
A loss of three to five hundred yuan wasn’t worth a confrontation with such people.
The tall and skinny duo rode the bike to Tangzi Street, wove their way into an old residential complex, and stopped at the gate of a ground-floor courtyard, pushing the bike inside.
A bald man with a brutish, fleshy face erged, glanced up, and asked, "New rchandise?"
The tall one chuckled. "Brand spanking new. You can still sll the machine oil on it."
"Where’d you get it?" the bald man glared.
"Relax, it’s from far away. Ca from Jiangning," the skinny one said as he parked the bike. Both of them approached the bald man.
The bald man bent over to inspect the bike, squeezed the brakes, and nodded, satisfied.
He unzipped his fanny pack, counted out a few banknotes, and handed them over. The tall and skinny pair tried to haggle, but a fierce glare from the bald man silenced them.
Just then, three sharp knocks echoed from outside the courtyard gate.
The three of them turned to look. A young boy was standing outside the iron gate of the courtyard.
He wore a blue and white school uniform, a schoolbag slung over one shoulder.
His face bore the slightly bashful smile typical of a boy his age.
His hand rested on the iron gate as he peered at the three n inside the courtyard.
The bald man scowled. "What’s all the knocking? What do you want?"
Chen Nuo smiled timidly. "Boss, I’m just asking about sothing."
"Ask sowhere else!" The bald man instinctively sensed sothing was amiss. The boy looked utterly harmless, but the bald man still adopted a fierce deanor.
Chen Nuo’s gaze swept across the yard.
It was cramd with bicycles, with two motorcycles in a corner.
He imdiately spotted his old bicycle, the one stolen earlier, dumped in a corner with its rear wheel removed.
He sighed softly.
With a flick of his wrist, a chain lock slipped from his sleeve into his hand, its length dangling to his knee.
Chen Nuo slowly walked through the iron gate. With a hook of his heel, he nudged the gate closed behind him.
The bald man grew annoyed, barking, "Kid, are you looking for trouble?"
Chen Nuo narrowed his eyes. "Boss, I just want to ask... where’s your safe?"
CLICK. The iron gate behind him latched shut.
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