Chapter 1 I’m the Street Kid Brother
“Chicks for sale! Ducks for sale!…”
“Sweet, sweet little mandarins going cheap…”
“Fresh fish and prawns, all on sale…”
“Steaming hot buns just out of the steamer…”
Honghuai, Shuipu District!
Huajie Dockside Market!
The market was bustling, the shouting and haggling filling the air with the everyday warmth of life. A young boy, carrying a military-green canvas bag, weaved through the crowd.
“Zimo! You’re out with your stall today too?”
“Hey, Aunt Hong! It’s the weekend after all.”
This was the mother of Xie Wanghe.
“Zimo, here so early!”
“Yeah, good morning, Aunt Ling!”
This was the mother of Shao Xingchi.
“Zimo, want some tofu pudding?”
“No thanks, Aunt Yan, I’m heading to the bridge first.”
This was Dahua’s mother.
“Zimo, have you seen Dahua?”
“Off somewhere playing again so early.”
Just like most people here who lived by the canal, Bai Zimo was born and raised along the water. But unlike others, Bai Zimo’s father had gone missing while working on a cargo boat, and his mother had remarried a year later while still young.
At home, only his grandmother remained, and they depended on each other to survive. After crossing through the riverside market, he arrived at the bridgehead. Bai Zimo set up his little stall under a tree, found a stone to sit on, and looked around. Summer by the canal was beautiful!
Though not full of flowers, the lush green trees on the shore and the shimmering water created a scenic view. The towering willows on both sides swayed gently, and the canal moved like a tamed giant snake.
Little Bai Zimo beat rhythmically on an enamel mug while chanting.
“A small square sheet, created by Cai Lun in the Eastern Han, What’s the use of paper? Listen closely while I tell you.
Pepper’s good, pepper’s fragrant, its aroma simply excellent. Star anise from Guangxi, sharp and fine. Old dried ginger, the older the better, its flavor lasting long.
Chenpi’s sweet scent comes from Jiangnan’s mandarins. Nanjing wraps its silk in it, Yanjing wraps its words. This paper falls into my hands, each sheet wraps my Thirteen Spice Blend!
Thirteen Spice Blend, Thirteen Spice Blend…”
His high, ringing voice paired with the clanging mug sounded just like a drumbeat — lively and rhythmic.
“Zimo, pack me a portion!”
“Give me two packs of the Thirteen Spice Blend!”
“Zimo, grab me some too!”
Thus, Bai Zimo’s little business kicked off every day with his energetic hawking. His stall was informal — wherever felt good, that was where he set up. But whenever people heard his chants, they knew the Thirteen Spice Blend was nearby.
“Thirteen Spice Blend! Thirteen Spice Blend…”
“Little Bai, can you stop that racket? You’re scaring off all my fortune-telling clients first thing in the morning!”
An old man nearby, fanning himself, called out.
Even in the morning, the summer air was heavy and humid. Unlike others who sold breakfast, Bai Zimo sold homemade spice mixes. He just laid his stuff out on the pedestrian path by the bridge, so passersby could easily buy what they needed.
Nearby, the regular stalls were fortune-telling, tooth pulling, and ointment selling.
“Wu Daoyin, you’re so shady, pretending you can tell fortunes!
There’s a saying back in Fujian: ‘70% fate, 30% hustle.’
Always scamming people — you’ll end up behind bars eating peanuts (slang for getting shot)!”
“You little punk, watch your mouth!” Wu Daoyin yelled angrily.
“I talk ! What are you gonna do about it?” Zimo snapped back.
Wu Daoyin fumed, “I’m doing scientific fortune-telling based on the Book of Changes! Unlike you, a little brat selling tree roots and bark as Thirteen Spices!”
“You’re so amazing, huh?
Fine, if you can figure this out, I’ll hand over my whole stall to you!”
Wu Daoyin hesitated. Though he ridiculed Bai Zimo’s spice blend as cheap stuff, the Bai family’s Thirteen Spice Blend had always been popular. Boatmen traveling north and south, passersby, even fishermen cooking stews — all relied on it.
In just a short while this morning, Zimo had already made several sales. Wu Daoyin was tempted. Then he saw Bai Zimo pull out… a math workbook from his canvas bag.
“Go ahead and solve these. If you solve them, the stall is yours. If not, you hand over your fortune-telling tortoise shell!”
“You’re just a kid! Since when did you have ‘X’ in your homework?”
“I’m self-studying middle school content, what about it? Dumb people talk big!”
Wu Daoyin grumbled, “Guess it’s my bad luck today. No father, no mother, no proper upbringing. Back when Bai Shaoren was alive, he didn’t teach you well.”
That crossed the line. Zimo’s eyes grew cold.
“You can joke around, but insult my dad again and I’ll flip your stall right now. After that, you better never walk around here again.”
Kindness invites bullying — a truth from ancient times to today. Since his father died and his mother left, Zimo had learned to be tough Around Huajie, he had become a little street king.
At that moment, a tomboyish kid came running over.