The sun on Zhuque Street slowly crept over the eaves of the bell tower, stretching the bronze bell's shadow far too long to fall squarely on the blue cloth sign of the fortune-telling stall. Spots of light filtered through the leaves of the locust tree flickered on the sign, casting a flickering shadow on the words "Iron Mouth Divine Calculation." Su Jinli stood in front of the stall, her hands on her hips. The hem of her skirt, embroidered with twin lotus flowers, swept across the cracked bluestone slabs in front of the stall, where crumbs of last night's hu bing (a type of flatbread) were still embedded in the cracks. Si Yan hid behind her, the jujube wood abacus clacking with a clattering sound. The clashing of beads mixed with the sizzling of the hu bing oven next door, like a lively street tune: "Three taels of silver calculated at an annual interest rate of three percent, ten years later the principal and interest will total..."
"Old man," Su Jinli sneered, her fingertips running across the rough texture of the talisman paper, "My son said that your yellow paper talisman is not even enough to fill the cracks in his abacus."
The fortune teller's bamboo fan snapped shut, the silver threads woven into the ribs gleaming in the sunlight. His snow-white beard twitched, and a speck of unwiped frosting stuck in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes—where Si Yan had rubbed it in. "Woman, don't be so unreasonable! When fortune-telling asks for information, if you believe it, it's there, if you don't, it's not. How can you, a mere mortal, have any say in that?"
"If you believe it, then it's there?" Su Jinli leaned forward and snatched the talisman paper, her fingertips running over the crooked cinnabar lines on it. "Then tell me, how did the callus on my son's palm become the line of financial loss?" She pulled Si Yan's small hand. The thin, pale red callus on his palm, worn from years of using the abacus, gleamed in the sunlight, with a few fresh indentations on the edges. "This was worn when he calculated the price of salt in Yangzhou. How could it be the secret of your financial loss?"
The gentleman's fingers, twirling his beard, suddenly stiffened, and his cloudy eyes rolled in their sockets: "This... this is a secret from heaven, it must not be revealed! Revealing this secret will bring punishment from heaven!"
"Heavenly secret?" Jiang Yan took a half step forward, the sleeve of his moon-white robe brushing against the copper bell at the corner of the stall, the bell emitting a dull twang. He pointed at the fan the gentleman was clutching, the rosewood grain glistening in the sunlight. "I think you're trying to rip me off because my son is young. This rosewood fan, inlaid with silver thread, is worth at least five taels of silver. What kind of fortune teller would flaunt such a valuable item?"
The gentleman subconsciously tightened his grip on his fan, his sleeve slipping an inch. The three-inch scar on the inside of his wrist resembled a twisted centipede, a pale pink bulge in the sunlight. Su Jinli, sharp-eyed, stepped forward to stare at him, the gardenia hairpin in her hair nearly brushing against his beard. "That scar looks like a knife wound—how could a fortune teller cut the inside of his wrist while cutting vegetables? I'd like to hear how it was cut."
The gentleman's expression suddenly changed. A trace of panic flashed across his cloudy eyes, and his snow-white beard trembled. "I... When I was young, I worked in the kitchen. I was cutting... cutting ribs and accidentally chopped..."
"Cutting ribs?" Su Jinli raised her eyebrows, and suddenly reached out to hold his thumb, rolling her fingertips over the thick callus. "Then the callus at the base of your thumb can't be caused by cutting ribs, right? It looks more like it's caused by holding a knife handle all year round." She applied more pressure with her fingertips, and the man groaned in pain, and his thumb twitched involuntarily.
The gentleman jerked his hand back, knocking over the wooden table behind him with a clang. The bamboo sticks in the holder scattered across the floor, a few rolling to Siyan's feet. His face turned pale, and he suddenly slammed his fan down on the table, sending wood chips flying from the ribs. He pulled a black iron rod from under the table, and rust mixed with sawdust rusted onto the bluestone. "You bitch! I'm going to fight you!"
"Protect the child!" Jiang Yan shouted, shielding Nian Li behind him. The little girl screamed in fear, but she still clung to her father's back, her pearl hairnet sweeping across Jiang Yan's waist: "Mom, be careful! Don't let the bad old man hit you!"
Si Yan held up the abacus and stood in front of Su Jinli. The beads clattered, and some even jumped out. "Don't bully my mother! Return our money! Three taels of principal plus interest, it's time to pay it back..."
"Si Yan, step back!" Su Jinli pushed her son towards Jiang Yan. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two "peddlers" pretending to sell goods suddenly throw away their burdens and pull out short knives from their sleeves. The blades flashed coldly in the sunlight, and there was a vague skull pattern engraved on the back of the blades.
Jiang Yan picked up the jujube wood stool leg on the ground. The bamboo-patterned surface was still stained with the sugar stains Si Yan had just rubbed on it, making his fingers sticky and greasy. "Jinli, take the child to the side!"
"Why retreat?" Su Jinli dodged the blow from the iron rod, the wind whistling past her ears, lifting a strand of her hair. She grabbed a string of candied haws from the nearby candy art stall, the glistening sugar icing shimmering amber between her fingers. "You dare to cheat my son out of his New Year's money? Ask me if this string of hawthorns agrees!"
A candied haws fruit slammed into the fortune teller's face, the glistening sugar coating his eyes and beard. The fortune teller roared and swung his club, the iron rod whistling past Su Jinli's nose, but she dodged it deftly. Jiang Yan seized the opportunity to sweep with the leg of a stool, slamming it right into the knee of the smaller attendant. The short knife landed with a clang, sliding far across the bluestone slab.
"You're so cruel!" The gentleman wiped the icing off his face, revealing a fierce look in his eyes. A few hawthorn berries were still hanging on his beard. "Brothers, retreat!"
"Want to run?" Su Jinli picked up Si Yan's dropped abacus and, with a flick of her wrist, the beads flew towards the master's wrist like a meteor. "Ouch!" The master let go in pain, and the iron rod rolled to the ground, hitting the bluestone with a clang. Si Yan was quick-witted and quick-handed. Like a little leopard, she pounced on the master's legs and hugged them tightly, her little arms tightening around him. "Give me back my three taels of silver! Plus interest!"
The teacher flung his legs in frustration, but Siyan hung on him like a koala, his little head still muttering, "It's already half an hour, and at the rate of one cent a day, the interest should be increased by fifty cents! If you delay for another minute, you'll have to add another five cents..."
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