Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

The first venue was on a commercial street on the east side of the town.

Matt parked the car in a roadside parking space at the intersection and turned off the engine.

Lin Yuan opened the car door and glanced around. The street was about two or three hundred meters long, with two- or three-story rows of shops on both sides. The facades were painted in beige and light gray, and every few shops had a glass door with a handwritten promotional sign.

Clothing store windows displayed seasonal discount slogans, an Italian restaurant had a sunshade set up in front of it, next door was a dry cleaner, and further ahead was a nail salon, with wind chimes at the entrance tinkling in the wind.

The sidewalk is paved with light red bricks, and several neatly trimmed dwarf holly bushes are planted along the roadside.

"The location is indeed excellent," Lin Yuan said.

"I told you so." Matt locked the car, took out his phone and looked at the house number the agent had sent him. "Go straight ahead, number thirty-seven."

They walked along the sidewalk.

Two middle-aged women emerged from the dry cleaner, carrying suit hangers, chatting and laughing as they walked towards the parking lot. The low hum of a hairdryer drifted from the nail salon.

The air was filled with the smell of garlic oil from the restaurant kitchen, mixed with the faint chemical odor of tetrachloroethylene emanating from the entrance of the dry cleaner.

Lin Yuan noticed the cars parked on the roadside—Honda Accords, Toyota Camrys, and several compact SUVs—all family cars; there were no pickup trucks or construction vehicles.

Number 37 is located in the middle of the street, sandwiched between a secondhand clothing store and a mobile phone accessories store. A real estate agency logo is pasted on the glass door, and a man in a dark blue suit is already waiting at the door.

He was probably in his early forties, his hair was neatly combed back with hair gel, his leather shoes were polished to a shine, and he was holding a leather folder in his hand.

Seeing Lin Yuan and Matt approaching, he immediately grinned, revealing a professional smile with eight perfectly aligned upper teeth.

"You must be Mr. Wayne and Mr. Lin? I'm David Porter from Porter Commercial Realty. We've communicated via email." He extended his hand, his handshake firm but not too heavy, not too light, his palm dry, and he released it after two seconds.

"This shop used to be a boutique home furnishing store, which moved away less than a month ago. As you can see from the location, there is a stable flow of people and a mature surrounding business environment. The area is about 800 square feet, with a ceiling height of 10 feet, and there is a small storage room in the back."

The monthly rent is 2,200, including property management fees and water fees. It's very suitable for retail or experiential businesses.

As he spoke, he used his key to open the glass door and stepped aside to let Lin Yuan and Matt go in first.

The interior of the shop is covered with light-colored composite wood flooring, the walls are painted snow-white, and there are rows of LED downlights overhead that light up with the push of a switch.

There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the air, mixed with the lingering smell of a damp mop.

There was indeed a small cubicle behind the back wall, with the door open, revealing a stainless steel sink and several empty shelves inside.

Matt walked around, tapped on the wall, and looked up at the ceiling. "Ten feet high, can we install ventilation ducts?"

David's smile remained unchanged, but his eyelid twitched slightly. "Ventilation ducts? What exactly is your business?"

"Forging," Lin Yuan said. He stood in the middle of the shop, barely moving, just watching David's expression. "Metal forging. Knives."

David's smile was still on his face, but the curve of his lips had narrowed slightly. This change was so subtle that Lin Yuan, with his keen eye for judging temperature by observing the color of the fire, would have completely missed it.

He switched the folder to his other hand and then quickly restored it to its original curvature.

"Forging." He repeated the word, as if hearing a foreign language for the first time. "Interesting. Specifically, what kind of equipment will be used?"

"Propane forging furnace, power hammer, belt sander, bench drill, quenching tank." With each item Lin Yuan mentioned, David's eyelids drooped a little. "And a hydraulic forging press."

"A hydraulic forging press." David nodded, his smile still on his face, but his knuckles gripping the folder were already turning white. "This sounds... very professional. Very professional."

However, I need to explain this to you all beforehand—the properties on this street belong to a commercial complex, and the leases have specific clauses restricting noise and odors. After all, there are clothing stores and nail salons nearby—”

He tapped the wall lightly with his folder. "To be honest, the soundproofing isn't ideal. Also, according to the city's planning regulations, this area is designated as a commercial zone, and obtaining permits for an industrial use like a forging workshop might be a bit of a hassle."

He chuckled again, this time with a slightly different smile—the corners of his mouth turned up at the same angle as before, but his eyes didn't follow. "Of course, if you're just planning to create a small exhibition space and do some demonstrations occasionally, then it's not a big problem."

"So you mean we can't do forging here?" Matt's tone began to harden slightly.

"That's not what I meant. I just said—there might be some things to be aware of. After all, this street is positioned as a commercial area for daily life and consumption, and the surrounding shops are quite sensitive to things like noise and smells." David carefully chose his words, switching the folder from his left hand to his right hand and then from his right hand to his left hand. "And frankly, if you open a forging workshop here, it might have a certain impact on the surrounding commercial atmosphere."

The current business mix on this street is very harmonious. If an industrial project were suddenly added, other tenants might object. This also affects the overall positioning of the street and the surrounding rental levels. You understand what I mean?

Matt was about to say, "You know he is—", when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Lin Yuanchong shook his head slightly.

"Understood." Lin Yuan nodded to David. "Thank you for your time. We still have a few places to visit, so we'll be going now."

As the two walked out of the shop, they heard David's long, silent breath after he had let out a sigh of relief. The glass door closed behind them, and the wind chimes fell silent.

"Why didn't you let me speak just now?" Matt asked as he walked to the side of the road.

"It's no use saying anything." Lin Yuan put his hands in his pockets and walked along the sidewalk toward the parking area. "That street is full of retail and service businesses. If a forging workshop were to be crammed into that street, it would be the same as cramming a chicken farm into a residential area."

It's not that he's discriminating against us; it's just that that place shouldn't be a forging location in the first place. Even if you present him with the champion's title, all he can do is apologize and still refuse to rent it out.

"So, we'll just leave it at that?"

"It's not that I'm giving up. It's that this place is simply not suitable." Lin Yuan opened the car door and glanced back at the clean commercial street—the nail salon had a new promotional sign, and the clothing store employees were changing clothes on mannequins in the shop windows. "Opening a forging workshop on that street will result in complaints every day. It's not just one person's problem; everyone will complain about you."

Complaints about noise, complaints about smells, complaints about your customers parking their pickup trucks next to their SUVs and taking up space. You might win one case, but you can't win against everyone.

Matt paused for a moment as he started the car, then said, "Let's eliminate this one first."

"exclude."

"That David—I'm not saying he had a bad attitude, he was pretty good, it's just that…" Matt turned the steering wheel and racked his brains for a word, "it's that feeling of 'I really want to make money off you, but I don't really want anyone to know I'm making money off you.'"

"Money is hard to earn, and life is tough." Lin Yuan leaned back on the passenger seat headrest and said it in Chinese, then added in English, "He didn't do anything wrong. He just guarded the gate for everyone on that street."

Matt nodded, putting the matter behind him.

As the car drove south, the surrounding streetscape began to change.

The beige and light gray painted facades on the commercial street were gradually replaced by dusty concrete walls and rusty iron railings. The street trees disappeared, and the sidewalks became as narrow as cracked cement slabs.

The walls were covered in graffiti, repeatedly covered up, the layers of colors blending into a blurry gray. The convenience store's iron fence was welded tightly shut, and a homeless man squatted by the entrance, an empty paper cup on his lap, staring blankly as Matt's car drove by.

"The second place is this way." Matt watched the navigation turn onto a side road. The road surface was no longer smooth; cracks covered the entire road like a spider web, and the wheels rattled loudly as they rolled over it.

The abandoned warehouse district lay quietly in the afternoon sun. Patches of rusty red corrugated iron roofs, varying in height, were crammed together; some roofs were half-collapsed, revealing the corroded steel beams beneath. On the ground, gravel mixed with weeds sprouted from between old tires.

There was a faint smell of decay in the air—not the pungent stench of a garbage dump, but a damp, somber putrefaction, like the smell of wood and rust that had been soaking in water for a long time.

Matt parked his car on the side of the road. There were no parking lines; the gravel and weeds were separated only by a low embankment. He took out his phone, checked the address, and pointed to a tin shed ahead.

"That's the one. The agent didn't come; they told us to check it ourselves. The key is under the flowerpot by the door—provided the flowerpot is still there."

The flowerpot was still there. The unidentified plant inside had long since withered into a brown, tangled mess, but the flowerpot was indeed still in its original place. Matt bent down and pulled a rusty key from the bottom of the pot, fiddled with it a few times in the keyhole of the iron gate, and the sound of the latch snapping open was particularly crisp in the empty warehouse area.

As the iron gate was pushed open, a musty, stale smell of rust wafted out. The space inside was larger than it appeared from the outside—the ceiling was at least six meters high, with several steel beams running across the roof, and in some places, sunlight could be seen filtering through the gaps.

The floor was bare concrete, cracks spreading like a spiderweb across the entire factory. Several wooden pallets were piled in a corner, the goods long gone, leaving only moldy sawdust. A rat darted across the corner and disappeared between two oil drums.

"The area is big enough, isn't it?" Matt said, taking two steps back. "The ceiling height is also sufficient. It can fit even your largest forge."

"Hmm." Lin Yuan walked to the base of a steel beam and looked up.

The paint on the steel beams had mostly peeled off, revealing the dark red rust underneath. But the structure remained intact, without any obvious deformation or cracked welds. He tapped the steel beams with his fingers; the sound was dull and solid.

"The structure is alright. The roof can be repaired, the electrical wiring needs to be re-laid, all the ventilation ducts need to be replaced, and the flooring needs to be redone. But all of that can be repaired. The problem is—this area."

What's wrong with this district?

"Did you look at the roadside when you drove in just now?"

"I didn't notice." Matt frowned slightly. "I just saw a few empty factory buildings and a pile of scrap metal."

"That's right." Lin Yuan patted the rust off his hands and walked towards the door. "You didn't notice, but someone is watching us."

Before the words were even finished, the light at the doorway dimmed.

A figure stood at the iron gate, hands in the pockets of his work pants, his shoulders almost filling the entire door frame.

He was probably in his early thirties, with dark skin, a buzz cut, and several faint tattoos showing on his neck. He wore a faded military green T-shirt and old jeans, the knees worn white.

The soles of his work boots made a slight scraping sound as they stepped on the cement floor by the door. Lin Yuan could smell his scent from five steps away—a strong, lingering smell of leaves mixed with sweat and smoke.

"Hey," the newcomer said calmly, "Are you new here?"

"It depends on the location." Lin Yuan stood at the door, half a step away from Matt. "It depends on whether this place is suitable for our business."

The other person didn't reach out. His work pants pockets bulged out like two fists, and he just stood there with his hands in them, looking around the warehouse from the doorway.

Then he pulled his right hand out of his pocket—not by reaching out, but by using two fingers to take two cigarettes from the cigarette pack on his chest—and handed them to Lin Yuan and Matt.

"My name is Lei. This way." He pushed the cigarette forward again.

Lin Yuan could smell it. The cigarette butt had a faint sweet smell, unlike the smell of ordinary cigarettes.

"I don't smoke this," he said.

Matt glanced at Lin Yuan, then at the two cigarettes, and shook his head: "I'll pass. I don't even smoke regular cigarettes."

Lei shrugged indifferently, put the cigarette in his mouth, and lit it with a disposable lighter. The smoke rose slowly in the sunlight at the warehouse entrance, and the sweet smell became even stronger.

"What do you do?" he asked, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Forging," Lin Yuan said. "Metal forging. A knife. We need a larger space."

"Forging." Lei mumbled the word, exhaling a puff of smoke. "It's blacksmithing."

"almost."

"Okay. I have something to tell you." He took the cigarette from his mouth, pinched the filter between his thumb and forefinger, and gestured forward. "This area is managed by our people. Not by the police, not by the landlords, not by any property management company. It's just us—we manage ourselves."

If you rent this place, you'll be our neighbors. There's a rule among neighbors—you pay a monthly fee. It's not much, just a few hundred dollars. It's not a lot, but it will reduce your troubles in this area significantly.

Nobody's going to steal anything, nobody's going to break the windows, nobody's going to throw beer bottles into your forge. You can focus on your business, and we'll handle all the mess. You get what I mean?

Lin Yuan looked at him. Lei's tone was calm, not threatening.

He spoke in a flat tone, just like when he offered him the cigarette. To him, this wasn't a threat; it was the rule of the street.

"We're still looking at locations," Lin Yuan said. "Nothing's been decided yet."

"Of course. It's only right to look at locations. Look at a few." Lei took a drag of his cigarette, the red glow of the butt flashing briefly. He then removed the cigarette from his lips, pinched the filter between his thumb and forefinger, and nodded towards Lin Yuan. The gesture was small, but carried a sense of everyday understanding. "If you end up renting this place, come find me. I'm in that red building over there; there's an old pickup truck outside. Just tell me my name."

"Okay." Lin Yuan closed the iron gate again and put the key back under the flowerpot. "If I rent this place, I'll need your help."

"Of course." Lei grinned. The smile wasn't fierce; it could even be described as casual. But as he smiled, his eyes swept over the watch on Lin Yuan's wrist before looking away. "Good luck."

Matt kept looking in the rearview mirror as the car drove out of the warehouse area.

"He's still standing at the door," Matt said, "watching our car."

"That's normal. He should treat every stranger like that."

After the car turned onto the main road, Matt adjusted the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following behind before remembering to wipe the rust off his hands.

"Gangs. Protection money," he said, his voice strained with barely suppressed tension. "Do you think it's reliable?"

"I'd rather deal with them than that real estate agent," Lin Yuan said, leaning back in the passenger seat. "That agent doesn't charge protection money, but he won't help you solve any problems either. He wouldn't even dare to include a clause in the contract saying 'forging is allowed.'"

Gangs are different. A gang will take your money and run things for you. If they didn't have people patrolling this warehouse district, the homeless and metal thieves would drain all the copper wire from every building.

"So you think this is okay?"

"If it's purely manufacturing—making knives, receiving goods, shipping logistics, and not having much interaction with the outside world—that's possible. The protection fee might even be cheaper than paying property fees in a commercial area."

Moreover, gangs have one advantage: they don't care about your business atmosphere, they don't care if your forge is noisy, and they won't come knocking on your door to complain if you're working late at night in the workshop.

Lin Yuan paused for a moment, "The downsides are also obvious. The gang's protection money is variable. If you rent this place today and pay three hundred a month, it might go up to five hundred next year. The year after that, they might change their leader and the rules, and you'll have to negotiate all over again."

And they don't accept credit cards—every time you go to their door to pay, you're building a stronger relationship with them. Sometimes, this relationship is harder to break than money.

"I'll keep this as an option for now." Matt took his phone off the stand and made a note in his notes app.