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Chapter 49: Amber and Incense Burner
Your dad’s out here collecting junk, and you still have the nerve to look down on me?
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Gu Wuyi held his breath for a moment, then couldn't help but say, "I'm afraid my father will sell you off as junk."
Old Qin moved as if to take off his shoes to smack him, "What nonsense are you talking?"
Gu Wuyi quickly jumped back, "Your son is an engineer!"
"What's wrong with being an engineer? He's not a human being?” Old Qin blurted out without thinking, coincidentally these days someone was pushing a cart around collecting junk.
The old books and newspapers from the village were sold to him, and the seller was Qin Feng's father.
Old Qin asked how much money they made in a day, and the junk collector didn't mince words.
But Old Qin could see from the junk collector's smile that he wasn't just an ordinary laborer. At that moment, he couldn't help but sigh about how times had changed; collecting junk paid more than regular work.
Old Qin also thought that every occupation had its dignity, as long as it wasn't illegal or disorderly. He began to think that maybe collecting junk could be a viable option.
Gu Xiao'er saw his changing expressions and growing determination, and quickly reminded him, "Grandpa, you are a teacher of the people."
"Are teachers of the people considered superior?" Old Qin asked in return.
Gu Xiao'er was taken aback by the question.
Fu Qingyun had experienced the hardship of collecting junk and being looked down upon. "Don't joke around," he said.
Old Qin shook his head.
Gu Wuyi said, "Then should you ask Grandma first?"
Old Qin thought about it. He needed to consult his wife's opinion. If he were to collect scraps, the family couldn't continue raising cows, pigs, and sheep like they do now.
"I'll go find your grandmother right away."
"What do you need me for?" Madam Zhou was chatting with others under a tree at the entrance of the alley. When she heard that all her grandchildren had come, she assumed that this group of growing children must be hungry. But seeing their empty hands—without even a cold bun—she realized she had guessed wrong. "You're not selling popsicles anymore?"
Gu Wuyi nodded. "Grandpa wants to take us junk collecting."
"What?!" Madam Zhou exclaimed in shock.
Old Qin was so angry he wanted to kick him. "You little brat, why are you spouting nonsense? That never happened!"
Madam Zhou narrowed her eyes. "There's no wind without waves!"
"No wind, yet three feet of waves," Old Qin blurted out.
Madam Zhou glared at him, and he immediately cowered, confessing honestly, "This is a long story."
"I have plenty of time." Madam Zhou marched into the house, pulled out a stool, and sat down.
With no other choice, Old Qin started from the beginning—how, before the school holiday, they had cleaned the classrooms and offices, ending up with a pile of old books and newspapers.
When Madam Zhou heard about how much money junk collectors could make, she couldn't help but nod in agreement.
Old Qin was delighted. "So you think it's a good idea too?"
Gu Wuyi panicked.
Madam Zhou waved a hand at him, signaling him to calm down. "Don't worry, I'll handle this old man."
"Just because I think it’s possible doesn’t mean you can do it."
"Why not? Is collecting junk any less respectable than playing the erhu for people?" Old Qin retorted.
Madam Zhou had originally planned to say that it would embarrass their son, but hearing this, she abandoned the idea of reasoning with him. "Speaking of the erhu, let me bring something up. We have five children in this family, and none of them can play the suona or the erhu. You and your son have been learning for years—was all that effort wasted?"
Old Qin was stunned, his mind momentarily going blank. "What do you mean?"
"Obviously, you should teach them!" Madam Zhou looked at the five children.
Gu Xiao'er froze for a moment, then quickly reacted and said, "I’m not learning!"
Gu Wuyi realized what Madam Zhou meant and hurriedly stated, "I have to make popsicles."
Fu Lingyun quickly added, "I have no musical talent."
Seeing that her plan was about to fall apart, Madam Zhou panicked and pointed at Miaomiao and Fu Qingyun. "You two are not allowed to say no!"
"Why?" Miaomiao shouted.
Madam Zhou shot back, "Are you even your father's real son?"
Miaomiao was completely stumped. "W-wait, if I’m his real son, I have to learn?"
"That’s called inheriting your father’s craft."
Miaomiao thought about it and nodded, but something still felt off.
With one down, Madam Zhou smiled and turned her attention to Fu Qingyun. "Are you Qin Feng’s son?"
Fu Qingyun was both amused and exasperated. This old lady couldn’t read a single character, yet she was a master at moral kidnapping.
"Fine, I’ll learn, alright?"
Madam Zhou nodded in satisfaction, then glanced at the other three boys. "I really spoiled you all for nothing."
Gu Xiao'er wasn’t fooled. "Say whatever you want."
Seeing his defiant attitude, Madam Zhou raised her sole of her shoe in her hand, ready to smack him.
Old Qin stopped her. "We only have one suona and one erhu in the house. These two are just the right number."
Madam Zhou frowned. "They’re both just primary school kids—"
"I’ll be in middle school when the new semester starts," Fu Qingyun couldn't help but interject.
Madam Zhou was momentarily speechless, then asked, "Are you in middle school now? No? Then start learning properly. Starting from—starting from tomorrow!"
Miaomiao couldn’t help but glance at his eldest brother for help.
As soon as Gu Wuyi thought about the sounds of the erhu and suona, he got a headache. "Then who’s going to make the popsicles?"
"I heard that in the past two years, people have been selling popsicles everywhere on bicycles. This year, it probably won’t be as easy to sell as before. At most, you’ll sell half a freezer’s worth in a day. The three of you are enough." Madam Zhou looked at Gu Xiao’er and Fu Lingyun. "One of you is starting the second year of middle school this fall, and the other is starting fifth grade. There’s still plenty of time before high school entrance exams. You two should do more work so your big brother can study."
Gu Wuyi had never even seen a middle school textbook in his past life. What Madam Zhou said made him hesitate—he couldn’t just focus on selling popsicles all summer and only pick up his textbooks in the last two weeks of vacation like before.
"Alright." Gu Wuyi nodded in agreement.
Miaomiao couldn’t help but grab his hand.
Gu Wuyi said, "If I keep speaking up for you, I won’t get to sell either."
Madam Zhou gave a small nod.
—At least he understands!
Miaomiao weakly collapsed against his big brother.
Old Qin got up and sighed. "Let’s go."
The group of teenagers instinctively asked, "Go where?"
"The erhu and suona are at your house."
Gu Wuyi’s eyes lit up—he suddenly knew how to help his two younger brothers. "Grandpa, if you dare to go, the people in the courtyard will dare to report you to the factory director for disturbing the peace."
Old Qin chuckled. "I’m not that foolish. I’ll bring them back, tune them up, and tomorrow morning, you’ll go learn by the river to the east."
Gu Wuyi was dumbfounded.
Madam Zhou smirked. "Did you think you were the only smart one?"
Gu Wuyi wisely decided not to show off anymore.
Miaomiao saw that his last escape route was completely blocked—he had no choice but to accept his fate.
The next morning at dawn, as the sky was just beginning to brighten, the little boy, who had gone to bed early, naturally woke up. He intended to do what he always did—go to the bathroom, then crawl back into bed for another nap.
But the moment he lay back down, he suddenly sat up straight.
Sleeping on either side of him, Fu Qingyun and Fu Lingyun were startled awake. In unison, they asked, "What’s wrong?"
"Heavens! Earth! The beautiful boy is about to play the suona!" The delicate-looking boy dramatically raised both arms and slapped them forward—exactly like the mourners at a village funeral.
His two brothers couldn’t help but laugh.
Seeing this, Miaomiao jumped up in frustration and shouted down at them, "You’re laughing? Are you even my brothers?"
Fu Lingyun smirked, "I’m your father!"
"Huh?"
Miaomiao was stunned. Then he noticed both his brothers looking toward the door. He turned his head and saw another figure standing there. "Dad?"
Qin Feng gave him a sharp look. "Good, at least you know I’m your dad. If I hear one more word, I’ll throw you out the window." Then he turned and left.
Miaomiao opened his mouth, then turned back to his brothers. "Did—did he take gunpowder for breakfast or something?"
Fu Qingyun got out of bed to change. "Obviously, you woke him up with your wailing. Think about what time Dad usually gets up."
Qin Feng normally woke up just after five.
But this wasn’t a weekday—it was summer vacation. His work hours were flexible, so he had turned off his alarm and usually slept until he naturally woke up, which was around six-thirty, when even the thick curtains couldn’t keep out the sunlight.
Miaomiao grabbed the alarm clock. Seeing that it wasn’t even five yet, he was so scared he didn’t dare breathe too loudly.
He tiptoed downstairs to wash his face and brush his teeth, avoiding the water pump so it wouldn’t make noise. Instead, he scooped water from the kitchen.
After washing up, he glanced outside. The sky was still dim. He let out a deep sigh and muttered, "Are we really going…?"
The early morning air was a bit chilly. Fu Qingyun draped a jacket over Miaomiao’s shoulders. "Practice for an hour, then we’ll be back just in time for breakfast."
Miaomiao held out his hand.
Fu Qingyun took it and asked, "Shall we run there?"
Miaomiao thought for a second, then nodded. "Early death, early reincarnation."
Fu Qingyun held back a laugh and pulled him eastward at a jog.
It was still too early—so early that even the housewives who needed to get up to buy groceries weren’t awake yet, and the main gate was still locked.
But that wasn’t a problem. There was always a key left on the windowsill. This way, engineers like Qin Feng wouldn’t have to wait for the gatekeeper to wake up if they needed to rush to the factory for an emergency.
The brothers unlocked the gate, put the key back in its place, and left, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar.
The Wuli village was still asleep.
They reached home before they finally saw someone—someone who had just stepped outside to use the public restroom.
At the sight of them, the half-awake person rubbed their eyes, confused. "Is it Qingyun and Miaomiao?"
Miaomiao nodded. "Surprised? Wanna know why? Ask my grandpa!"
Right on cue, Old Qin stepped out, holding a suona in one hand and an erhu in the other. "Let’s go."
The neighbor across from Qin Feng’s house was stunned. "Wait—what are you all doing?"
Old Qin grinned. "Master one skill, and you’ll never go hungry."
The neighbor opened their mouth, hesitating. "But… aren’t they good at studying?"
"Life is unpredictable." With that, Old Qin headed east.
The brothers sighed deeply and followed behind.
The neighbor couldn’t help but rub his eyes, making sure that the three figures weren’t ghosts. Once he was certain, his urge to use the restroom disappeared entirely. Instead, he turned around and rushed back inside, shouting, “Wake up!”
His wife, annoyed, opened her eyes and glared at him.
“Across the street—Uncle Qin’s house. Aren’t his grandkids all top students?”
His wife nodded. “Kids without parents grow up more sensible. Why?”
“They’re great at studying, yet Uncle Qin is still teaching them. The older one—should be the third child—he's teaching him and Miaomiao how to play the suona and erhu.”
His wife frowned. “Is that really necessary?”
“That’s what I’m wondering too.”
She thought for a moment and then said, “Let’s ask Qin Feng later. Maybe the college policies have changed again.”
The neighbor immediately recalled that last year, universities across the country started charging tuition. Teaching colleges remained tuition-free, but graduates were required to become teachers. He was particularly concerned because his own son was in his final year of high school.
Last year, their village had a student who got into a junior college. That student had once asked Qin Feng whether it was worth trying for higher education. He had ended up attending a decent teacher training school within the province. After graduation, he’d be qualified to teach at a middle or even high school in Binhai.
That student hadn’t been particularly bright—he was mischievous and not the most diligent. Seeing that he had made it, the neighbor thought that if his own son worked hard, he might even get into Binhai Normal University.
But Qin Feng had no idea about any of this yet.
At lunchtime, when he came home for a meal and heard about it, he instinctively asked, “When did this happen?”
Old Qin walked out from the courtyard. “This morning.”
Qin Feng eyed his father.
“Your mother’s idea.”
Qin Feng knew his mother well. If she hadn’t thought of it in all these years, there was no way she suddenly decided on it now.
He narrowed his eyes. “What did you do this time?”
“The village school is on summer break. I’ve got nothing to do anyway, so I figured I’d push a cart into town and collect scrap. But your mother wouldn’t have it—she insisted I teach them instead. Still, I can’t be teaching all day, can I? Even if I’m not tired, they’ll be.”
At the heart of it, Old Qin still hadn’t given up on his idea.
Hearing this, the neighbor across from the Qin household was once again stunned.
A dignified school teacher collecting scrap? He actually came up with that idea?
Qin Feng felt a headache coming on. “Can’t you just relax and enjoy a few peaceful days?”
“You mean sitting at the village entrance from morning till night? How’s that any different from the salted fish we have drying out there?”
Qin Feng had no comeback for that.
A man who had been sitting outside all morning, now about to head home for lunch, turned toward Old Qin.
Old Qin glanced at him. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
That man wasn’t just anyone—he was Qin Feng’s distant uncle, Old Qin’s younger cousin, and the one his family was closest to. “Third Brother, did I just hear you say… collecting scrap?”
“What? You look down on scrap collectors?” Old Qin narrowed his eyes, as if daring him to nod—implying that if he did, he’d better not call him Brother again.
The uncle’s face broke into a wide smile. “Of course not! I actually think collecting scrap is a great idea. No investment required, every cent earned is pure profit. More reliable than my son going south to buy and sell goods.”
Old Qin turned to his son, looking quite smug.
Qin Feng sighed. “Fine, do whatever you want, as long as you have someone to go with you. But at noon, you must stop by Uncle’s restaurant for lunch. If you try to be lazy and skip it, you’re not going anywhere.”
Old Qin froze.
Qin Feng’s distant uncle quickly chimed in, “Xiao Feng agreed!”
Old Qin was in disbelief. He hesitated, then asked cautiously, “You—you’re really not afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
“As long as you don’t get greedy and start swiping things, what’s there to be embarrassed about?”
Old Qin glared. “Do you really think your father is that kind of person?”
“Then what’s the problem?” Qin Feng countered.
Old Qin thought about it. No problem at all.
Their family already had a handcart and a small scale—he just needed to buy a bigger one.
With his son’s approval, his wife’s objections didn’t matter.
Brimming with ambition, but also wary that Qin Feng might change his mind, Old Qin wasted no time. After breakfast, he put on a straw hat, slung a water bottle over his shoulder, and pushed his cart, calling his younger cousin to head into town.
Qin Feng’s paternal eldest uncle’s wife couldn’t help but scoff.
Old Qin shot her a look of pure disdain, as if to say, What the hell do you know?
Madam Qian couldn’t hold back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You really don’t get it?” Old Qin shook his head, all but outright calling her the most ignorant fool he’d ever met.
Madam Qian stepped forward.
Qin Feng came out of the house. “What’s going on?”
Afraid that Qin Feng, who was actually capable of throwing hands, might get involved, Madam Qian settled for glaring at Old Qin before rushing off to spread the news.
Third Brother Qin, a dignified teacher, had gone into town to collect scrap?
Either he had lost his mind, or he had become obsessed with money.
Since Qin Feng had a high salary, and Old Qin himself still received wages, it was obviously not about money.
So, everyone who heard the news assumed he’d lost his mind.
That included his own wife, Madam Zhou.
She was so unsettled that she couldn’t focus on her chores.
By lunchtime, it was Gu Wuyi and Gu Xiao’er who ended up making the meal.
Even then, Madam Zhou could only bring herself to eat half a steamed bun.
Gu Wuyi noticed and said, “If you’re that worried, just go with him next time.”
"Are we just abandoning the house now?" Madam Zhou asked irritably.
Gu Wuyi, knowing she was in a bad mood, didn't dare respond and instead signaled to his father for help.
Qin Feng said, "If you stop him from going, he'll keep thinking about it every day. If you let him go, he'll make a couple of cents, spend a couple of bucks eating at Uncle’s restaurant, and by then, he won’t even want to go anymore."
Madam Zhou suddenly turned to her son. "So that’s why you specifically reminded him this morning to eat at your uncle’s place?"
Qin Feng nodded. "You know my dad—he won't eat for free, and he'll probably end up giving more money."
Madam Zhou finally felt at ease. "You should've just said that earlier."
"Who knew you’d get so worked up over it?" Qin Feng said honestly. "It's not like he's robbing a bank—worst case, he wastes a day for nothing."
Madam Zhou shook her head. "I just worry people will look down on him for collecting scrap."
Qin Feng shrugged. "There’ll always be people who look down on others, but no one will mistreat him. Every household has junk—no one’s going to tell him to get lost. They’ll just call out, ‘Hey, scrap collector! How much for books per pound? What about cardboard?’"
Madam Zhou couldn't help but study her son. "How do you know all this?"
Qin Feng thought, I've never eaten pork but I've seen pigs running. It’s not like I live in a vacuum.
"Have you watched the Spring Festival Gala? Two years ago, Uncle Benshan was selling newspapers, and Comrade Hanlin was selling spice mix. What’s the difference between that and Dad collecting scrap?"
Qin Miaomiao’s eyes lit up. "Dad! Dad! I have a great idea—let Grandpa take his erhu with him. The moment he starts playing, who wouldn’t come out of their house ah?"
Fu Qingyun quickly added, "I think the suona would be even better."
Madam Zhou turned to the two of them. "Oh, so you’re suggesting this so you don’t have to practice? Do you believe I won’t send you two along with your grandfather next time?"
The two brothers instantly fell silent.
Qin Feng, barely holding back laughter, said, "Honestly, I think it's a brilliant idea."
Miaomiao: "I don’t think it’s a great idea."
Qin Feng shook his head. "Your opinion doesn’t count—because I’m your old man."
"…That’s unreasonable!"
Qin Feng: "Any problems with that?"
Miaomiao couldn’t argue with him, so he turned to his grandmother, looking at her pitifully.
Of course, Madam Zhou couldn’t bear to let her little grandson go collect scrap—especially in such hot weather, where the road was scorching enough to fry an egg.
“Let's eat.”
Miaomiao finally felt relieved.
But Madam Zhou had a new concern. "I wonder if your father has made it to your uncle’s restaurant yet."
Qin Feng: "Don’t worry. He knows me well—if he dares to exhaust himself to the point of heatstroke, I’ll smash his scale."
Qin Feng’s distant uncle had originally planned to just grab a quick bite from a random street vendor.
Old Qin had the same thought, but remembering his son’s warning, he had no choice but to obediently head to his brother-in-law’s restaurant.
After eating, the two, who had no experience collecting scrap, were eager to head back out to the streets.
Uncle Zhou, who spent all his time in the city and had seen it all, stopped them. "Just rest here until after four. No one sells scrap at noon."
Generally, keeping a pile of junk at home for a day or ten days made no difference.
Besides, it wasn’t even Sunday—everyone was at the factory working. Who had the time to sell scrap to them?
The two old men finally realized why they had no business in the morning.
They rested properly until 4:30, then put on their straw hats and headed out again.
Just as they reached the alley entrance, someone called out to them.
The person took a closer look and exclaimed, "Aren’t you Qin Ying’s father, Genbao’s father-in-law? Aren't you a teacher?" As she spoke, she couldn't help but size him up. Sure enough, he was dressed like a true scrap collector.
Old Qin smiled and said, "The school is on break. I have nothing to do at home all day, so I came out to move around a bit. Every little bit earned counts."
However, the person didn’t believe him.
She suddenly recalled that Wang Genbao had previously left two children in Old Qin’s care. When the neighbors had asked about it, Wang Genbao had shamelessly said, "If my father-in-law can help his brother-in-law raise two kids, why can't he help Qin Ying raise two as well?"
Hearing this, they couldn't help but feel sorry for the elderly couple. What had they done in their past lives to deserve such a scoundrel for a son-in-law?
Serves him right for having three daughters.
Seeing the look of sympathy on the woman’s face, Old Qin was speechless but also amused. "I really just find staying at home boring."
"Say no more, I understand." The woman waved her hand and, without waiting for a response, turned and went inside.
Old Qin’s cousin, Qin Dashan, was confused. "What does she mean, she understands?"
Old Qin pointed westward. "If you walk to the end of the alley and turn a little south, you’ll find Qin Ying’s house. I haven’t been here for years, and I didn’t even notice there were new houses. Maybe people heard about Wang Genbao’s deeds, thought about my five grandchildren growing up, and assumed I was collecting scrap to support them."
Qin Dashan’s mouth fell slightly open before he swallowed hard. "But Xiao Feng’s salary is so high—even without bonuses, he can easily provide for them."
"They don’t know exactly how much he makes." Old Qin heard footsteps approaching and quickly signaled to his cousin with his eyes.
Qin Dashan followed the sound and saw the middle-aged woman coming out, carrying a pile of miscellaneous items. "Go ahead and weigh them."
Old Qin admitted honestly, "This is our first time collecting, so we don’t know today’s prices. But we sold some scrap a few days ago—should we go by those rates?"
The woman, who often sold scrap, knew that aside from copper and iron, the rest wasn’t worth much anyway.
Seeing that she was reasonable, Old Qin didn’t bother sorting through the items. He simply picked the category with the most items and calculated based on that price.
The woman hadn’t expected Old Qin to be so honest despite needing money, and she found his weighing method fair. She felt even more sympathetic toward him. "When you came from the alley entrance, did you see that big mansion on the northwest corner?"
Old Qin had indeed seen the mansion earlier and had even told Qin Dashan some stories about it—who had lived there in the past and whose ancestral home it had been.
"That place was sold. It was bought by your son-in-law’s friend—the one Wang Genbao is close with. I heard that guy has been shipping goods to the Russians these past two years and has made a fortune. If you go there, he might just give you the stuff for free."
Qin Dashan glanced at Old Qin.
Old Qin hesitated. "Will we run into that beast Wang Genbao? Ever since he dumped the two kids on me, I’ve cut all ties with him."
The person wasn’t surprised at all upon hearing that.
With how despicable Wang Genbao was, anyone would want to cut ties with him.
"No, you won’t. I heard he bought several storefronts in the city center. When he bought them, he even said, ‘You guys have money to help Qin Ying’s uncle buy a place, but even if he refused your money, he could still afford it himself.’"
Old Qin scoffed.
The neighbor also didn’t believe for a second that Old Qin had paid for anything.
If he had that kind of money, why would he be out here collecting scrap?
"A few days ago, the whole family moved over there. Even if you go to his old house now, you won’t see him."
Hearing this, Old Qin felt relieved. He thanked the neighbor and pulled the cart away.
When the brothers arrived at the mansion, they called out loudly at the entrance.
Before long, the mansion’s door opened, and someone let them in. They were told they could clean out the house, and anything inside would be theirs—except for the furniture, which was still in use.
Old Qin was eager to take a proper look at the mansion he had once been too intimidated to even walk past in his younger years. So much so that he didn’t even notice the look of contempt on the homeowner’s face.
Qin Dashan, however, caught it.
Seeing his elder brother act so composed, he couldn’t help but secretly look down on the nouveau riche who thought they were above them.
Thinking this way, Qin Dashan felt at ease and worked with even more enthusiasm.
In about an hour, their cart was piled high with scrap.
The sun was about to set, and the recycling station had closed for the day. The two brothers pulled their cart home.
Qin Dashan glanced at the back panel of the cart and couldn’t help but say, "Good thing you brought this along. Otherwise, all these small things would’ve fallen off."
Old Qin replied, "I didn’t even look carefully. What all do we have?"
"Tin boxes, metal bowls—" Qin Dashan casually picked one up and held it out. "Doesn’t this look like the incense burner that the old monk in Journey to the West used?"
Old Qin nodded.
Suddenly, a thought struck Qin Dashan. "Could this be an antique?"
Old Qin chuckled. "Do you think collecting scrap is like treasure hunting? Would an antique still look this new?"
Qin Dashan examined it again. "It looks like it's only a few decades old. But if we keep it for another fifty years, it might actually become an antique. Still, it’s nice—we can use it to burn incense during the New Year."
"Check if it’s been used before. If it has, we shouldn’t use it—it’d be like burning incense for someone else."
Qin Dashan took a careful sniff. "It really was used for burning incense by that household."
"Then this thing is at least half a century old. That house has been around that long, too."
Qin Dashan did the math—it was from before the founding of the country.
For all they knew, this item might have been made when Empress Dowager Cixi was still alive.
"Third Brother, should we still sell it?"
Old Qin: "No, let’s keep it."
"Then how do we split it?"
Old Qin looked at him. "You want it? Then keep it. If you hold onto it long enough, it might really become an antique. Selling it now wouldn’t be worth it—the price of copper isn’t high."
Qin Dashan tentatively asked, "But what if it’s actually from the Qing or even the Ming dynasty?"
"Then it just means it wasn’t meant for me. Even if I had it, I wouldn’t be able to keep it."
Qin Dashan found this reasoning a bit far-fetched, yet it somehow made sense. They had gathered a lot of things from broken boxes and forgotten corners, but his eyes had been drawn to this small incense burner right away.
"Then all the other small items are yours."
Old Qin nodded.
He wasn’t collecting scrap to get rich—he didn’t mind missing out on a few coins.
Because they had helped clean out the house, they didn’t get home until nearly seven in the evening.
Madam Zhou thought they were too embarrassed to come back empty-handed.
But when she saw the two of them covered in dust and pulling a cart full of junk, she was so shocked that she immediately turned around and shouted into the house, "Qin Feng! Qin Feng! Come out quickly!"
Qin Feng and his five sons rushed out in a panic.
Gu Wuyi saw his grandfather hauling in a cart full of odds and ends, gaped for a moment, and then stammered, "Grandpa… You really see yourself as a scrap collector now?"
Old Qin glared at him. "I collected these things, fair and square."
Qin Feng noticed some rags among the pile and nodded. "That’s true, these were definitely collected."
Gu Wuyi pointed at the tattered cloth and gave his father a meaningful look, urging him to think carefully before speaking.
Qin Feng said, "If this were picked up off the street, your grandpa wouldn’t have bothered with torn clothes and scraps. Only someone who sold everything at once would have included things like that." He paused, then sighed. "Looks like you plan to go out again tomorrow?"
Old Qin hadn’t retired yet, and he only had two months left—rain or shine. Each day that passed was one less he had left. Of course, he had to keep going.
Qin Feng stepped aside. "Are we leaving this outside or bringing it inside?"
Old Qin didn’t want to be watched by curious neighbors. "Take it into the courtyard. I’ll sort it out quickly and then eat. You all help out."
His five sons simultaneously rolled their eyes.
Old Qin glared at them. "You looking down on me?"
None of them dared to make another face. But as soon as he pulled the cart in, they tucked their shirts into their pants and started sorting through the items.
Old Qin and his cousin, Qin Dashan, rinsed their hands and faces, then each grabbed a cucumber, munching as they directed the others.
Madam Zhou couldn’t help but say, "Are we the ones collecting scrap, or you?"
"Then don’t touch anything. I’ll do it myself."
Madam Zhou was worried he’d get heatstroke—how could she let him work alone?
But since she felt bad for him, the only thing she could do was help.
Qin Feng knew the cardboard boxes were the most valuable, so he had the kids start sorting them out first. He found some rope to tie them together. Then, he moved on to the books. As for the rags, they went with the books—if they could sell them, great; if not, his father would just toss them in the trash when he took the rest to sell.
The kids followed instructions quickly and efficiently. In no time, all that was left in the cart were some scraps of metal and other miscellaneous junk.
Madam Zhou noticed there were also pieces of wood and frowned. "Why do you bring home everything?"
Old Qin bent down to take a look. "Must’ve been mixed in by accident."
Madam Zhou picked up a piece, planning to throw it into the kitchen fire, but as she moved it, two objects fell out.
Hearing the noise, Qin Dashan glanced over and gasped. "Amber?!"
Qin Feng instinctively asked, "What?"
Qin Dashan wiped his hands on his clothes to get rid of the cucumber juice, then picked up the two small objects. "You don’t even know what amber is? I heard there’s a place up north where this stuff is everywhere. They even dig it up when mining coal. These two probably came from there. Too bad they have bugs inside, plus a bunch of black specks—it’s worthless."
Qin Feng took a closer look. Aside from the black spots and the bugs inside, the amber was a rich golden color without any other impurities. "Should still be worth something, right?"
Gu Wuyi had heard that amber could be valuable, but in his past life, he had no interest in expensive trinkets that couldn’t be eaten, worn, or used. He had only seen them in other people’s homes—one was pure blood red, another was deep ocean blue, with inclusions that looked like a starry sky. Those were foreign imports.
If these were locally sourced, even if they were sold at sky-high prices, they’d still only be worth about as much as silver.
"Which is more expensive, silver or this stuff?" Gu Wuyi asked curiously.
Qin Dashan replied, "Probably about the same. But you still need someone willing to buy it."
Madam Zhou scoffed, "You can’t wear it, and you can’t melt it down into rings or bracelets. Who’d spend money on it?"
Qin Dashan nodded. "Exactly. This kind of thing is only valuable because it’s rare." He then picked up the small incense burner again. "Xiao Feng, I already told your dad, this stays with me and won’t be sold. These two pieces are for you guys."
He casually handed them to Gu Wuyi and Miaomiao. "Take them and play with them."
Miaomiao saw that they were covered in dust and frowned. "So dirty?"
Gu Wuyi offered, "I’ll wash it for you and put it in your piggy bank. If you ever run out of money, you can trade it for candy."
Miaomiao wrinkled his nose. "I don’t eat candy anymore."
"Then trade it for something else." Gu Wuyi didn’t want him tossing it away. "Just think of it as two pieces of silver."
Since he had started school early—first grade at five years old—Miaomiao was now eight and about to enter fourth grade. He understood the value of gold and silver. "Okay."
Gu Wuyi cleaned the amber thoroughly, wiped it dry with a towel, and handed it to Miaomiao.
He stuffed it into his pocket without a second thought. Then, noticing his older brothers watching, he turned to them. "Do you want it ah?"
Fu Qingyun immediately waved his hands. "No."
He didn’t dare admit that the moment he saw the bugs inside, he couldn’t help but recall stories he had heard in his past life about Kuman Thong, which sent chills down his spine.
【古曼童 (Kuman Thong) is a supernatural entity in Thai folklore. It refers to a spirit of an unborn or deceased child, traditionally kept in a small statue or amulet. In the past, it was believed to bring protection, wealth, and good fortune to its owner. However, its origins are dark, as it was historically linked to occult practices involving the spirits of stillborn babies.】
Then he remembered that Miaomiao had been sleeping in their room lately, and his piggy bank was right by their bedside. "You should put it in your own room later."
Miaomiao’s room faced west, with Dad’s study on one side and the staircase on the other. No one ever stayed in those areas, and he didn’t like sleeping there. Because of that, besides a bed and a cabinet, there was nothing personal of his in the room. He had no intention of putting the amber in there either.
Qin Feng had a gut feeling that these two pieces of amber were valuable.
But in his past life, he had no interest in these kinds of things, and since he was afraid of misjudging their worth, he had never paid much attention to them.
"Give them to me. I’ll keep them for you," Qin Feng decided. He planned to store them in his cabinet and, when the opportunity arose, have an expert appraise them—along with the gold, silver, and jade pieces the old monk had given him.
The child immediately shoved them into his hand.
Old Qin laughed in exasperation. "Look at how disgusted you are with them!"
Qin Feng stuffed them into his pocket, then grabbed a broken basin and sorted out the remaining scrap metal before pushing the cart outside.
Once outside, he flipped the cart over and dumped everything onto the ground.
Since it was so dusty, he stomped twice on the cart’s underside, instantly sending a cloud of dust into the air.
From the east door, before the person had even stepped out, a voice shouted, "Are you gonna let people eat in peace or not?"
Qin Feng glanced over—it was his eldest cousin. "Did I shove it in your mouth?"
His cousin choked on his words, unwilling to back down. "If you did this in the city, people would say you have no public decency!"
"If city folks are so decent, why don’t you move there?" Qin Feng gave him a calm, indifferent look and flipped the cart back upright.
His cousin was stunned. "Your dad’s out here collecting junk, and you still have the nerve to look down on me?"
Qin Feng replied, "My family is so poor we can barely afford to eat. What does that have to do with me looking down on you?"
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