Chapter 42: An Extra Tael

Monday.

Breathing in the fresh air of the morning, it was another day to set up the stall. The day when the debt would finally be cleared was drawing closer, and Wang Qiang was full of energy.

As usual, after setting up the cages, he and his mother made their way to the entrance of the market. Though they had only been in business for a few days, their reputation for honesty and good service had already spread, and business was thriving.

There’s an unspoken rule in business that many may not know: selective short-changing. Some unscrupulous vendors will never shortchange strangers—sometimes, they even give a little extra. But with regular customers, they’re not so polite, often giving a little less. The trust built with regulars means they won’t bother to check the scales, a practice known as “cheating the familiar.”

After all, the market didn’t yet have a fair scale. Even when those were introduced later, only a few bothered to double-check their purchases. So, cases of being caught out were extremely rare.

Wang Qiang never did such things, nor did he intend to start. Business, to him, was about making money, but more importantly, it was about selling trust. If you ruined your credibility, you could forget about making any profit.

At six in the morning, the rising sun chased away the last traces of darkness.

The market was bustling as always, people brushing past each other shoulder to shoulder, the air full of shouts and haggling. Over there, a man deftly grabbed two tomatoes from a stall, asked the price, pulled money from his pocket, and left with his bag. To the left, a woman was picking out clothes from a rack—she’d chosen a red sleeveless top, but upon spotting a better white one, she returned the red and took the white, smiling despite the extra two yuan.

Everyone’s business seemed to be going well.

But Wang Qiang, as if cursed, had sat with his mother for most of the morning without a single customer. Even old customers who had bought fish from him in the previous days merely glanced over before heading inside. He even saw one regular go straight to another fish seller deeper in the market.

How strange.

What was going on? Wang Qiang couldn’t figure it out.

Just then, a woman with an oval face approached and began to ask, “Is your fish—”

Before she could finish, a plump woman beside her tugged at her sleeve, leaned in, and whispered something. The oval-faced woman shot Wang Qiang a peculiar look and turned away.

Wang Qiang, who had half-risen from his seat, sank down again in confusion. What had the plump woman said? Why did the potential customer suddenly leave?

“Hey, Xiao Wang, your business isn’t too good today, huh?” Uncle Zhai’s voice came from the side, pulling Wang Qiang from his thoughts.

He nodded slightly, watching the fish leap and splash in the wooden basin while no one came to buy. It was hard to stay upbeat.

His mother, perched on a small stool, tried to lighten the mood. “It’s impossible for business to be good every day. That’s normal.”

She said it lightly, but Wang Qiang frowned. If business was just bad, it should be bad for everyone. Yet the two fish sellers inside were still doing well; peeking through the gate, he could see customers crowding their stalls, some pointing in his direction. What was going on?

He mulled it over in his head but couldn’t make any sense of it.

At that moment, a customer finally arrived.

It was the polite, bespectacled middle-aged man Wang Qiang had seen before. He’d just come out of the market, carrying chicken and edamame. “I’ll take two crucian carp,” he said.

Before Wang Qiang could respond, a wrinkled old woman bustled over.

“Mr. Wang, selling fish today?”

“Yes, Aunt Yu, you’re out shopping too?”

“Indeed, my grandson’s been clamoring for fish, so here I am.” Aunt Yu smiled, then gave Mr. Wang a meaningful look. “Shall we buy inside instead?”

Mr. Wang waved her off. “Last time I bought fish here, they cleaned them for me. Service was good, so I’ll buy here again.”

Aunt Yu grew anxious. “No, listen to me—”

But Mr. Wang ignored her, turning to Wang Qiang. “The bigger ones.”

Old customers were always the best. At last, business for the day was starting. Wang Qiang beamed. “Of course.” He deftly scooped out a crucian about the length of a chopstick. “Will this size do?”

Mr. Wang nodded.

Aunt Yu sighed and shook her head.

A number of people coming out of the market paused to watch when they saw someone buying fish from Wang Qiang. They stood at a distance, whispering among themselves, voices low and indistinct.

Wang Qiang paid them no mind. Taking a black plastic bag and scale from his mother, he dropped the fish in, then added another of similar size, before picking up the scale and weighing them as usual. When the beam was still high in the air, he showed Mr. Wang. “One jin, two liang. That’ll be one yuan eighty.”

Mr. Wang pulled out his wallet and handed the money to Wang Qiang’s mother.

“We can clean them for you?” Wang Qiang offered, crouching down and reaching for his knife as usual.

But Mr. Wang stopped him. “Wait.”

Wang Qiang was puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

The bespectacled man turned to Uncle Zhai. “Could I borrow your scale for a moment?”

The atmosphere instantly tightened.

People nearby stopped talking and stared intently.

Uncle Zhai looked uneasy, glancing at Wang Qiang and his mother, unsure whether to lend the scale. If he did and the weight was off, he’d offend Wang Qiang; if he refused, it would look like he was hiding something. Either way, it was awkward.

Borrow the scale?

Did he think Wang Qiang was shortchanging customers?

Wang Qiang let out a short, incredulous laugh and exchanged a glance with his mother, making no attempt to stop the request. With a clear conscience, he had nothing to fear.

“Sir?” the bespectacled man asked softly.

Seeing Uncle Zhai hesitate, Wang Qiang spoke up. “Uncle Zhai, please, lend him the scale. Thank you.”

“Oh.” With Wang Qiang’s permission, Uncle Zhai no longer hesitated and handed over the scale.

The bespectacled man clumsily hooked the bag onto the scale and slowly slid the weight along the string.

Originally there were seven or eight onlookers.

Now, more people came over in twos and threes, stopping to watch. In no time, there were more than a dozen, possibly twenty people of all ages, nearly blocking the market passage.

Wang Qiang noticed that some were watching with gloating eyes, as if expecting some drama.

“Is the weight right?”

“Brother, how much is it?”

“Is it like Old Li and Old Chen said?”

A few people crowded closer, eager to know. Aunt Yu, being short, even rose on tiptoe to see the scale.

By this point, Wang Qiang had a hunch why business was slow today. He glanced into the market without expression before returning his gaze to Mr. Wang at the scale.

Uncle Zhai, fond of the young man, silently worried for him, hoping nothing would go wrong.

Wang Qiang’s mother, on the other hand, sat in silence, her face calm but betraying not a hint of concern. She knew their business—Wang Qiang always gave more, never less. They had nothing to fear from a fair scale.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to Mr. Wang.

All wanted to know if the weight was short.

Mr. Wang, unhurried, slid the weight until the beam balanced. Suddenly, he exclaimed in surprise, “How can this be? It’s actually one liang over!”