Eternal madness

Chapter 12 Registration Assistant
A man with a plaster on his face told Zhang Laifu that he had eaten the wrong wontons, but Zhang Laifu still didn't understand what he had done wrong.

The man with the plaster put the birdcage aside, ordered a bowl of wontons from the old man, added soy sauce, chili, and minced garlic, took a sip of the soup, smacked his lips, and said, "This is somewhat tasty. Let me tell you, young man, this wonton is not bad either. The mistake you made was eating at the place across the street first before coming here. It's not that you don't know the value of something, it's that you can't compare the two. After comparing the two, I can't eat the wontons here anymore."

As he spoke, the man glanced at the stall owner and said, "Shopkeeper, I'm just stating the facts, not trying to disrupt your business."

The stall owner smiled and said, "Sir, you're right. When it comes to comparing goods, I really can't compete with others. They are craftsmen."

Zhang Laifu looked at the stall owner: "You can make wontons too, aren't you a craftsman too?"

The stall owner waved his hands repeatedly: "Sir, you wouldn't dare say that."

Zhang Laifu didn't understand: "What's there to be afraid of? We're all just making wontons, it's just that his skills are a little better than yours."

The man with the plaster on his face looked Zhang Laifu up and down: "You're from out of town, aren't you? How come you don't know anything? You can't just call someone a craftsman. Do you think a bowl of wontons is a small matter? There's a lot to it!"

Zhang Laifu shook his head: "Then tell me, what kind of knowledge is involved?"

The plaster-wearing man snorted, fanned himself, and ate another wonton: "Why should I tell you? If you want to learn skills and broaden your horizons, you should at least show some sincerity, right? A bow, a greeting, and calling me 'sir'—that's the least you should do, isn't it?"

Zhang Laifu stood up, bowed to the man with the plaster, and addressed him as "Sir," saying, "Sir, I have something to ask you."

The man with the plaster put down his chopsticks and sat up straight: "Speak, what is it?"

Zhang Laifu asked directly, "Is the leather thin or thick?"

The plaster-wearing man replied, "No matter how thick the skin is, it still has to wrap the filling."

Zhang Laifu then asked, "Did it flip over in the water, or did it sink in the pot?"

The man with the plaster said, "They're all cooked in our own soup."

Zhang Laifu asked, "What exactly do these words mean?"

The man with the plaster put down his fan, picked up his pipe, and took a puff: "This is a traditional method used by wonton vendors to test someone's intentions."

Do you know what "spring slang" is? Spring slang is a kind of jargon, it's jargon. "Reverse spring" is the jargon used to refer to someone.

Whether the leather is thin or thick, it reflects your skill level; whether it's boiled in water or simmers in a pot, it reflects whether you've joined a local trade.

Zhang Laifu stroked his chin, thinking for a while: "I just wanted to buy a bowl of wontons, why did he mention Chun Dian to me?"

The man with the plaster looked at the wonton stall across the street: "He's a kind-hearted person and takes care of his fellow villagers. If you can match Chun Dian, it proves you're in the same line of work, and maybe he'll even give you a bowl of wontons."

"So that's how it is!" Zhang Laifu got up, preparing to go across the street to talk about Chun Dian.

The man with the plaster stopped Zhang Laifu: "Do you think it's feasible to pretend to be an expert just because you've casually learned a couple of erotic terms?"

Zhang Laifu thought about it and realized that made sense: "Why don't you teach me a few more words?"

The man with the plaster shook his head and said, "I don't know much either, and it's not my place to teach you. Wonton is an industry, and there are apprenticeships in this industry. If you really want to enter the industry, you have to find a master to learn the craft and let your master teach you the essentials."

To become an apprentice.

That's also an option.

Zhang Laifu had no idea where he was or where to go. He only had one large coin and a dozen copper coins left, and he didn't even know if he would have a meal to eat next.

If I could find a master to teach me a trade, at least I could find a way to make a living in this place.

The problem is, can I stay in Heishakou for long? If I don't want to stay in Heishakou, where can I go? I only have a little money left, and I can barely afford a bowl of wontons.

While eating wontons, Zhang Laifu racked his brains for a solution. The man with the plaster said to him, "If you want to become an apprentice, you'd better hurry, he'll be closing up shop soon."

"Closing up?" Zhang Laifu looked at the sky. "He just set up his stall, and he's already closing up?"

The man with the plaster chuckled: "Don't be so unconvinced, this is how craftsmen do business."

The stall owner sighed beside him: "Craftsmen are skilled. I also sell wontons, and I can make wontons, but I'm not a craftsman. I've been in business for decades, and I'm still just a novice."

Zhang Laifu glanced at the stall owner's age; he was over sixty years old, yet he still called himself "youngster."

The plaster-wearing man said, "If you're not a craftsman, you'll be a lackey your whole life. Shopkeeper, save up some money and learn a trade."

The stall owner shook his head: "Money isn't so easy to save. I get up at two o'clock every night to knead dough, roll out wrappers, chop fillings, and cook soup. I set up my stall at five o'clock."

A bowl of wontons costs two coins. By 8:30 pm, he can sell seventy or eighty bowls. After deducting the cost and the guild's donation, he can earn fifty or sixty coins a day, which is only twelve or thirteen silver dollars a month. His whole family depends on this money for food.

Look at the person across the street. He also sells wontons, but he's a registered employee.

He slept until noon every day, took a nap after lunch, prepared the ingredients at 3 pm, and set up his stall at 4 pm. He sold a bowl of wontons for five silver dollars, and by 6 pm, he had sold out two hundred bowls of wontons. After deducting his capital and the donations from the guild, he could earn three silver dollars a day, and nearly one hundred a month.

They only set up their stall for two hours a day. After closing up, they would stroll through the market, visit theaters, and even go to foreign theaters. They ate, drank, and had fun every day, ensuring that their whole family not only had enough to eat and wear but also had a considerable amount of savings.

They have the skills to earn that kind of money, so they don't have to work hard and can just enjoy their lives peacefully!

The man with the plaster looked at Zhang Laifu and laughed, "Two hours a day, and you can earn a hundred silver dollars a month. Aren't you envious?"

Zhang Laifu wasn't envious at all; he first needed to understand a concept: "What is the ocean?"

The man with the plaster frowned: "Silver dollars, you've never seen them before?"

“Never seen one,” Zhang Laifu said, having never seen a silver dollar before. “How many copper coins can one silver dollar be exchanged for?”

"One hundred and thirty? You didn't know that?"

One hundred and thirty copper coins?

Can you earn 100 silver dollars a month?

A bowl of wontons costs five coins. How many wontons can you buy with that?
Zhang Laifu was now extremely envious: "I'll go and become his apprentice!"

Wonton vendors, one of the 360 ​​trades, are small vendors who sell wontons.

Zhang Laifu was no stranger to wontons, but he never imagined there would be such a big difference between artisans and ordinary people, and such a huge difference in their quality of life.

He decided to learn the craft from the wonton seller, but was stopped by the plaster man: "He's a registered clerk, a craftsman on the first floor, and he doesn't usually take on apprentices."

Furthermore, look at his wonton stand: pots and pans, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, stove, firewood, flour, meat filling, and even several large buckets for adding soup—all on the stand.

They choose their own produce, sell it themselves, earn their own money, and spend it all themselves. Does such a business need apprentices to help them?

What else can be done?

Zhang Laifu racked his brains but couldn't find a solution. The man with the plaster put down his chopsticks, bit his pipe, and said, "I see you're short of money. I'll find you a job. Go buy me two steamed buns, and I'll give you five coins as a running errand fee. How about it?"

"Five coins..." Zhang Laifu calculated for a moment, "How much is one steamed bun?"

“You don’t need to worry about the cost of the steamed buns, I’ll handle that separately,” the man with the plaster took out five copper coins and placed them on the table. “As long as you buy the steamed buns, this money is yours.”

Zhang Laifu finished his wontons in a few bites and got up to buy steamed buns.

Five copper coins were important to him; at least they guaranteed his next meal.

Seeing a car with a stack of steamers, I went up and asked, "Do you have steamed buns?"

The stall owner waved his hand: "We sell rice cakes here."

Which shop sells steamed buns?

The rice cake vendor looked around and said, "He hasn't set up his stall yet today. Have a bowl of rice cake, it's delicious!"

Zhang Laifu went straight to the next stall, which also had steamer baskets. The stall owner opened the lid of the steamer basket, and after looking at it, Zhang Laifu was somewhat disappointed.

"This is... a steamed bun?"

The stall owner waved his hand and said, "This is a steamed bun, not a mantou. We are completely different from mantou! Would you like to try a steamed bun?"

"I want to eat steamed buns, which shop sells them?"

"Didn't the rice cake seller tell you? The steamed bun seller isn't out at his stall."

Zhang Laifu continued walking to the next stall, visiting more than a dozen stalls in a row, some selling corn, some selling hawthorn cakes, some selling zongzi (sticky rice dumplings), and some selling aiwowo (glutinous rice dumplings)...

Each stall offers a different product or service, and importantly, none of them work part-time. The stall selling fried dough sticks doesn't sell sugar cakes, and the stall selling boiled corn doesn't sell tea eggs. Each stall only does one type of business.

Zhang Laifu asked several times who was selling steamed buns, but they all said they weren't setting up a stall.

As Zhang Laifu was searching for steamed buns, he faintly heard the sound of a pipa.

"I thought that a broken mirror could never be mended, but who knew that it could still reflect my beauty today. The gilded phoenix is ​​still in my hands, just like a kite with a broken string that has been rejoined."

Someone is singing Suzhou storytelling!
Zheng Pipa!
he came?
They arrived so quickly?
PS: Pingtan performer, one of the 360 ​​professions.

Old Zheng sang the classic Pingtan piece "Painted Phoenix," and the lyrics perfectly matched the context of this chapter. He found the kite with the broken string, but he didn't know if it could escape. I listened to countless Pingtan pieces before choosing this one.

(End of this chapter)