Zhang Jun headed toward Antique Street, anticipation written all over his face.
An old man was shuffling along up ahead.
His hair was gray and matted, filthy beyond words. A tattered cotton-padded jacket, its original color impossible to make out, hung over his gaunt frame.
He might have been ill. His steps grew increasingly unsteady, his body swaying and stumbling until he suddenly toppled over at the edge of a landscaped verge. He lay motionless, as if he were dead.
Zhang Jun’s heart lurched. He hurried over, crouched down, and checked the old man’s breathing.
It was extremely faint.
“Wake up.”
Zhang Jun shook the old man by the shoulder.
The old man’s eyelids fluttered. He struggled to open them a crack, his cloudy eyes shifting toward Zhang Jun. His cracked lips moved. “Hungry…”
“So he fainted from hunger!”
Zhang Jun suddenly understood, and felt relieved. He immediately went to buy a bottle of mineral water and four steaming meat buns.
He carefully lifted the old man’s head and fed him water a little at a time.
The cool liquid soothed his parched throat. The old man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed greedily.
After he had drunk about half the bottle, Zhang Jun broke the buns into small pieces and held them to his lips.
The old man ate incredibly fast, nearly wolfing the food down. He almost choked, and Zhang Jun hurried to pat his back and help him catch his breath.
After finishing all four buns, the old man let out a long, contented sigh. His eyes brightened a little. “Young man… th-thank you. You’re a kind soul… There aren’t many people like you these days.”
“Where do you live? I can take you home, or help you get in touch with your family.”
Zhang Jun said softly.
The old man shook his head. His eyes suddenly grew moist as he gazed northeast. His voice was hoarse. “Home… is in Tieling. It’s too far. I have no children, and I’ve wandered all my life. Now I’m old and no use to anyone. I just want… before I die, I want to go back and die on the kang in my old home. That way, I can return to my roots…”
His trembling hand felt inside the innermost layer of his tattered jacket and pulled out a small cloth pouch, so dirty it gleamed. He untied the cord. Inside were a few crumpled, stained bills. The largest was worth five yuan, and altogether they came to no more than twenty.
“I… I was hoping to save up a little for the fare…” The old man lowered his head, his voice growing quieter, full of embarrassment and shame.
Zhang Jun silently looked at the few bills, then at the old man’s withered face and frail body, trembling slightly in the morning breeze. It was as if he could see himself decades from now. A deep sense of pity welled up inside him.
He took all the more than four hundred yuan in cash from his pocket and pressed it into the old man’s hand. “This is all I have. I’m sorry.”
The old man froze. Tears welled up in his cloudy eyes, and his lips trembled. For a long while, he couldn’t say a word.
At last, he reached out a hand as thin as a bundle of sticks but surprisingly strong, and gripped Zhang Jun’s wrist tightly. “Young man… you’re truly so kind! What… what kind of work do you do?”
“Me?” Zhang Jun gave a bitter smile. “I just lost my job. I studied cultural relic appraisal in college. I was heading to Antique Street to try my luck and see if I could find a bargain, just to make enough to eat.”
“Cultural relic… appraisal…” The old man repeated the words under his breath, but his eyes slowly brightened. He studied Zhang Jun closely from head to toe, as if trying to see right through him. “Good, good! This trade takes a sharp eye, but it takes character, too! Heaven won’t let a good-hearted person like you go unrewarded!”
His other hand trembled as he reached into the deepest part of his tattered jacket. After fumbling around for a long while, he drew out a small package wrapped in oilpaper with utmost solemnity.
The edges of the oilpaper were worn and frayed, clearly treasured for countless years.
He carefully peeled back the oilpaper layer by layer, his movements as reverent as if he were performing a ritual.
Inside was a pearl.
It was the size of a peanut, a warm, milky white all over, with a texture as fine as congealed mutton fat. In the morning light, a gentle, subdued sheen flowed across it.
A faint golden line had naturally formed across the pearl’s surface, winding and lively. It even seemed to outline a crouching dragon, its scales and claws faintly visible!
“This… this is called the Dragon Pearl.” The old man gently placed it in Zhang Jun’s palm, his voice lowered to a whisper, trembling with mystery and solemnity. “I found it when I was young, in Dragon Cave, deep in the mountains back home. The old folks all said it was a pearl formed inside a divine dragon, nourished for who knows how many years in a dragon vein. It has a spirit, and can bring good fortune.”
He paused, looking at the pearl with a complicated expression—longing, reluctance, and a hint of relief. “But I’m not blessed enough. I’m too lowly to bear a treasure like this. I’ve carried it for sixty years, and been poor for sixty years, suffered for sixty years, without a single good day. You’re kind and honest, and your eyes are clear. You’re the one it was meant for. Today, I’m giving it to you. I hope… you’ll treat it well, and I hope it can help you in some way.”
The pearl felt cool at first, then a warm sensation flowed from it into his palm. It was heavy, with an extraordinary feel to it.
Zhang Jun looked at the strange pearl in his palm, then at the old man’s utterly earnest, utterly sincere expression. His heart was a jumble of emotions.
If it really was an extraordinary treasure, how had the old man ended up like this?
But no matter what, it was the old man’s heartfelt gift.
“Thank you.” Zhang Jun closed his hand around the pearl and thanked him sincerely.
The old man grinned, revealing a few sparse yellow teeth, and smiled.
He patted the back of Zhang Jun’s hand without saying anything more, then slowly stood up. Hunched over, he picked up a tattered cloth bag and shuffled toward the other end of the street, one step at a time.
The morning light stretched his shadow long. Against the backdrop of the city just beginning to stir, his departing figure seemed to carry an indescribable air of desolation and carefree ease.
Zhang Jun watched the old man disappear, then sat down by a roadside flower bed, gripping the pearl tightly.
His face was full of bewilderment.
He was completely broke. What was he supposed to do now?
Find a job?
With a monthly salary of five thousand, he’d still be going nowhere after a lifetime of work. He couldn’t afford a car or a house, couldn’t find a girlfriend, and would end up alone in old age.
Borrow money to go bargain hunting?
The risk was too great!
He’d made costly mistakes himself many times in the past.
He shook his head with a bitter smile, then inexplicably thought of last night’s intimacy and bliss.
Liu Qingxue had looked so beautiful without her clothes.
His nose began to itch, and blood suddenly started dripping from it.
With a slap, a drop landed squarely on the Dragon Pearl, staining it red. Then the red slowly disappeared.
A sharp burning pain suddenly shot through his palm!
It was as if he were holding a red-hot iron!
The pearl, which had been milky white and softly lustrous, began to emit a faint, hazy white glow!
The faint golden dragon pattern on its surface suddenly blazed brightly, golden light flowing through it. It seemed almost alive as it slowly swam across the pearl!
Then, at a visibly rapid pace, the pearl melted into the palm of his left hand and sank into his flesh, settling there in quiet repose. It felt remarkably natural and comfortable, as if the pearl had always been part of his body.
Moreover, the pearl formed a mysterious connection with him, allowing him to receive some unbelievable information…