Chapter 16 Empty-Hand

"This receipt is mine."

Seeing the look of suspicion on the old man's face, Wu Ya could only give a helpless, affirmative answer.

Once again, it was his youthful face that had drawn unfounded suspicion.

It was only natural.

In this era, sewing machines were luxury items reserved for marriage dowries.

Thirty of them.

That was a fortune by any standard.

How could such a sum possibly end up in the hands of an eighteen-year-old kid?

It defied all logic!

"Yours? Hah! I’ve lived sixty-three years and never seen a youngster with that kind of money! Now, tell me honestly, where did you steal this from? You’re young, so if you confess, I can let it go. If not, I’ll hand you over to the police right this instant!"

The old man let out a cold laugh, his attitude turning on a dime.

Did this kid think he could take advantage of his age, pass him off as senile and easy to fool?

Ridiculous!

What hadn’t he seen in his life?

And this kid still had the nerve to put on airs in front of him!

A whelp, daring to come and claim thirty sewing machines.

Just for the courage, he could almost respect him.

But what was stolen could never be his.

With those words, the old man strode to the doorway.

Though his frame was slight, he stood there brimming with vitality.

It was clear—unless Wu Ya confessed, the next stop would be the police station.

"Sir, this really is my pick-up slip! Manager Huang from the Hardware Company personally approved it—take a good look, there’s his signature right there!"

Wu Ya explained, exasperated, silently cursing Huang Silu a hundred times over.

That wretch.

He couldn’t have fallen ill at a better or worse time—he had to do it right here?

Why not in his own pants?

Now Wu Ya was left to face suspicion and be mistaken for a thief, his reputation in tatters.

But he still had to explain himself with patience and courtesy.

Otherwise, the old man wouldn’t show an ounce of leniency.

A headbutt, a shoulder charge, and a bone-crushing punch—he had a whole arsenal.

One round of his tactics would cost you thousands at the very least.

Better to bear it.

But then—

"A personal signature? Isn’t that a given?" the old man retorted sharply.

"Without Manager Huang’s signature, this slip would be worthless! No matter how bold you are, you wouldn’t dare show up otherwise! You saw the signature, knew the slip was valid, and that’s why you came to claim what isn’t yours!"

His analysis was so incisive, it could have come straight from a detective.

"This…" Wu Ya was left speechless.

He’d come in good spirits to collect his goods, and somehow ended up accused of impersonation.

No matter how he explained, it was futile.

The old man was stubborn as a mule.

"What’s wrong, cat got your tongue? Still not going to confess? Then you’d best come quietly to the police station with me!"

Seeing Wu Ya’s embarrassment only energized the old man further.

With a sudden movement, he raised his arm—the same morning tai chi routine the street elders practiced daily.

Wu Ya dared not resist.

Win, and he’d have to pay compensation; lose, and his dignity would be gone.

"Sir, I’m not playing this game with you! I’ll come back later!"

With that, he turned and bolted.

"You little rascal, stand right there! Running away just because you can’t win—a young man with no sense of honor!"

Behind him rang the old man’s furious shouts.

"I pray for a love without pain, and yet tears keep falling…"

At the door to the hardware company’s restroom, Huang Silu emerged, wobbling as he hummed a tune.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking up to see Wu Ya’s gloomy face.

"What am I doing here? If I’d run any slower, your grandpa would have dragged me to the police station! Your dad’s uncle really is your dad’s uncle!"

Wu Ya wasted no words on courtesy.

"My grandpa?"

Huang Silu paused, but quickly understood.

"Hahaha, the old man must have seen you empty-handed and thought you were a thief!"

Empty-handed, and you’re seen as a thief!

Damn it!

Huang Silu hadn’t even been there, yet summed up the situation with a single line.

Wu Ya suddenly realized.

He’d thought it was his youth that had caused the misunderstanding.

But the old man was a repeat offender!

In fact, who in the entire Suiyan District didn’t know?

The hardware company’s gatekeeper was a distant relative of Manager Huang.

Because of this, the gatekeeper might as well have been the warehouse supervisor.

If you showed up without good cigarettes or wine, you weren’t getting in.

Sorry—the door’s shut.

He’d play deaf and dumb behind the lock.

If you brought cigarettes and wine, you still had to be polite and deferential.

Otherwise, he’d take the gifts and still throw you out.

Who dared argue?

He’d make you wait until the end of the year to collect your goods.

No one dared cross him.

In his previous life, Wu Ya had never had dealings with these people.

So his ignorance was understandable.

"Your family is really something! They even scam their own! Who else but Manager Huang could walk in and collect thirty sewing machines at once? Even with connections, he still gets treated like this?"

His anger grew with every word.

What a shrewd old man—he could raise pigs just by guarding the gate!

The perks in a year were enormous.

Come empty-handed, and he’d invent endless excuses.

Including accusing you of theft!

With his endless bickering, you’d never get your goods, yet you couldn’t accuse him of anything.

After all, wasn’t security the gatekeeper’s job?

"Come on, let’s go. What’s there to fuss about? The old man’s got it tough—at his age, still supporting a whole brood of useless sons! The whole family lives off him!"

Huang Silu shook his head and walked past Wu Ya.

As for the old man’s petty extortions, it was no longer his concern.

The real priority was to get Wu Ya’s sewing machines out, so the evening’s plans wouldn’t be delayed.

As they approached the gatehouse, Wu Ya stopped outside.

But from within, voices drifted out, making Wu Ya’s skin crawl.

It was as if their roles had reversed.

Now it was Huang Silu who was the grandson!

"The power of a second-generation official is something else," Wu Ya thought with a mix of disdain and resignation.

He had been driven out, yet the young master was being offered tea.

What kind of world was this?

He simmered with injustice.

But suddenly, a cry of alarm came from inside.

"What did you say? Those thirty machines the boy came for were our own goods?"

Then,

"This is a disaster—the flood has swept the Dragon King’s temple! I’m getting senile, look at the mess I’ve made! If I’ve delayed your business, I’d never forgive myself, even in death!"

He berated himself with a torrent of regretful words, his remorse overflowing.