Volume 1 / Chapter 44: Buying Two Jin of Bulk Liquor
By the time they got downstairs from the hospital, Mo XuÄyĂĄo spotted her father waiting by the flowerbed, puffing away on a cigarette. Judging by the three or four cigarette butts scattered nearby, he had clearly gone through several while waiting.
"How'd it go?" he asked, taking a deep drag with one hand holding the cigarette. "Anything wrong?"
"Not a thing." Mo XuÄyĂĄo walked over to him, only to be hit by a thick wave of cigarette smoke. She coughed sharply. "Cough, coughâDad... could you maybe smoke a little less? My throatâs already scratchy."
"Iâll try, Iâll try."
"Canât you just quit altogether?"
"No way. A man who doesnât smokeâcan he even call himself a man?" her father chuckled, clearly joking.
"Ugh, classic false equivalence. So all those boys at school who donât smoke arenât real men, huh?" she shot back.
"Exactly. Theyâre not adults yet, how could they be âmenâ?"
"Tsk, tsk." Mo XuÄyĂĄo clicked her tongue. "I seriously donât get whatâs so good about smoking. Anyway, weâre done with the checkup, right? Letâs head home."
"Hold on. Letâs stop by the fruit shop at the hospital gate first," her father said, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it underfoot with practiced ease as he strolled toward the exit.
"Could you at least try to be civilized?" Mo XuÄyĂĄo, freshly indoctrinated with civic responsibility from school, couldnât stand it anymore. She crouched down, picked up the scattered cigarette butts, and walked over to toss them into a nearby trash bin. "Seriously, the binâs like ten meters away, and you canât even be bothered to walk that far. Unbelievable."
"Well, I didnât read as many books as you did, so I guess Iâm just not as cultured," her father said with a teasing tone, mostly to mask his embarrassment.
"Oh, come on. Culture and manners aren't the same thing." Mo XuÄyĂĄo clapped the cigarette dust off her hands and followed her father out of the hospital's main gate.
Just a little ways from the entrance was a modest fruit store that barely had any décor. The lighting inside was poor, so even during the day, the shop kept its fluorescent lights on.
Business seemed decentâthere were always one or two customers browsing the fruits.
Because it was the only fruit shop near the hospital, the prices were noticeably higher than elsewhere.
Her father pointed at a few bunches of under-ripe, greenish bananas displayed at the entrance and asked, âHow much are these bananas per jin?â
[ note : jin = 0.5 kilos/1.1pounds ]
âThree yuan,â the shopkeeper replied without looking up, his attention focused on a different customer.
âThree yuan for bananas?â her father muttered in surprise. The shopkeeper didnât bother respondingâhe was busy chatting with someone who appeared to be buying more expensive fruits.
The man in question was holding a fruit that looked like a burning red heart and asked curiously, âWhatâs this?â
âDragon fruit,â the shopkeeper replied.
âHow much?â
âFifteen yuan each.â
âIâll take one. Put it in a gift basket, please.â
Though the manâs clothes were quite plainâhe didnât look like someone well-offâhe still chose to buy such an expensive fruit. Maybe he was visiting an important friend? Or maybe it was just for appearances?
âBoss, these bruised ones are still one-fifty a jin?â her father asked, pointing to a box full of loose bananas stacked in a cardboard tray. A sign above it clearly listed the price.
âTheyâre not bruisedâjust ripened from a few bumps! Already selling them cheap!â the shopkeeper replied.
Mo XuÄyĂĄo raised an eyebrow. She spotted one banana that clearly wasnât just bumpedâit was going bad. The skin was nearly splitting, and a faint sour smell lingered in the air.
Her father glanced at her and threw up his hands in silent resignation. He wandered into the shop to examine the other fruits more closely, checking for freshness.
For items without price tags, he asked directly. After a few such inquiries, the shopkeeperâs patience began to wear thin.
âYou ask so muchâare you buying anything or not?â
âOh, just checking,â her father said breezily, returning to the banana section and picking up a small, chubby bunch. âHow much are these dwarf bananas?â
âFifteen yuan per jin.â
âCan I just buy three bananas?â
âNope,â the shopkeeper snapped, clearly at the edge of irritation. âThese are importedâgotta buy the whole bunch.â
âAlright then, give me one bunch of the regular ones.â Her father picked up a still-slightly-green bunch and placed it on the scale.
âThree yuan fifty,â the shopkeeper said tersely. He grabbed a plastic bag and tossed it carelessly on the counter, then flung the bananas in and shoved them aside.
Her father didnât say anythingâhe just paid calmly, picked up the bag, and walked out.
The bananas went into the bikeâs basket, and Mo XuÄyĂĄo climbed onto the back seat.
The bicycle wobbled a little as it started moving.
âDad,â she said, once they were well away from the shop, âthat shopkeeperâs attitude really sucked. So gross.â
âHaha, donât worry about it. Guys like that wonât last in business.â
âReally?â
âSure. No patience, and too greedy,â her father said as he rang the bell, gently reminding some pedestrians to move back onto the sidewalk.
âThen whyâd you still buy from him?â
âJust wanted to try the taste. We havenât had fruit in a while, have we?â
âIâm fine, not that into fruit,â Mo XuÄyĂĄo replied, though she didnât quite mean it.
âOh? That so?â
âOf course.â
âThen I guess the bananas are for your mom.â
âEh?â
âYou said you donât want them.â
â...But can she finish the whole bunch by herself? Wouldnât want to waste it.â Mo XuÄyĂĄo muttered, quickly changing the subject. âSay, can cats eat bananas?â
âNo idea. But back in the countryside, folks fed their cats whatever. If the humans ate it, the cats did too. Leftovers, rotten apples, bananasâŠâ
âI heard people feed cats proper cat food nowadays.â
âYeah, thatâs city folk. Cat foodâs expensive. Scraps are fine.â
âBut they still need meat, right?â Mo XuÄyĂĄo thought of their kitten, SĆ«tĂĄng. âSeems like SĆ«tĂĄng only gets fed once a day. Look how skinny she is.â
âAll kittens are skinny. Sheâll fill out when she grows.â Her father said this while veering slightly off course, turning toward the market near home. âLetâs check out the veggie prices today.â
âYou go ahead. Iâll watch the bike.â Mo XuÄyĂĄo pinched her nose. âCanât stand the smell in there. Itâs awful.â
âAlright, I wonât lock it then. Just donât wander off.â
âYeah, yeahââ she responded lazily, not even bothering to hop off the rear seat.
Outside the market, a few locals had set up small produce stalls. Their veggies tended to be cheaper and fresherâmostly grown themselves, unlike the wholesale stuff inside.
Her dad was much faster than Mom at grocery shopping. In just over ten minutes, he came out carrying a big bag loaded with several smaller ones.
âWhoa, big haul today. Whatâd you get?â she asked.
âChicken legs, pork belly, pig intestines, and a bunch of veggies,â he said, hanging the smaller bags off the handlebars before stuffing the big one into the basket.
âHeading home now?â she asked. âNeed me to help carry some?â
âWait, Iâm grabbing some liquor.â He wiped his hands on his shirt and headed toward the grain and oil shop at the market entrance.
These stores were a staple of 90s marketsâselling rice, oil, salt, vinegar, soy sauce... everything but firewood, since city folk used gas now.
They sold both pre-packaged and bulk goods. Most people preferred the latterâbuy what you need, avoid waste.
Back in elementary school, Mo XuÄyĂĄo often got sent by her mom to fetch a bit of cooking oil or soy sauce.
âBoss! Two jin of buckwheat liquor!â her father called out before even entering. He was a familiar face, and the shopkeeper greeted him with a smile.
âTwo jin today? Got guests at home?â
âNo, just stocking up. Saves me a trip later.â
âYou bring your own bottle?â
âNope. Using yours. How much?â
âPfft, youâre a regularâbottleâs on the house.â The boss waved him off, then lifted the lid of a waist-high ceramic jar and fetched a clean, label-peeled plastic bottle, a long red ladle, and a matching red funnel.
He placed the funnel into the bottle and smoothly ladled in the clear liquor, as steady and practiced as a running tap.
After three or four scoops, the bottle was nearly full. He placed it on the scale, glanced at the weight, then added just a little more.
âExactly two jin.â
Actually, it was a touch over, but thatâs how good business workedâbetter to give a little extra than come up short.
The shopkeeperâs pouring technique was something honed over years: precise, fluid, and oddly satisfying to watch.
Mo WĂ©nlĂŹ paid, then shoved the warm bottle into Mo XuÄyĂĄoâs arms. âHere, hold this.â
âYou sure I donât need to carry anything else? Youâre barely holding onto the handlebar.â
âTch, donât underestimate your old man. If I canât even manage this, am I still a man?â He lit another cigarette before getting back on the bike, riding leisurely home with a smug smile, much to his daughterâs dismay...
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