Chapter 2 2. Play hard drums

The man was wearing a thing that was shorter than the gown and longer than the gown, but it was made of blue foreign cloth. The small drum in his hand was less than an inch in diameter. At this time, he was holding the drum together with the drum in his left hand, and his right hand was pressing the broad coarse cloth bag on his shoulders. Up, down, left, and right, all the people and things in the room are taken care of. The old Jew didn't take care of the master, so the young tenant must be the one who wants to sell things.This young man's face is clear and tight, with a straight nose bridge, a pointed chin, big and bright eyes, and there are some triple burners on his square lips, but there is a little sadness in his eyes.No, it doesn't have to be misery.He promised himself that he had seen countless people in his life, and he could never be wrong. The look on this person's face should be that kind of distressed that he was about to hurt someone after being greatly wronged, but he was still hesitating.This kind of person must be emotionally anxious and confused, hoping that he has hard goods to sell.

Following Ding Shaomei up the stairs, the wailing of the four-part round singing on the stairs under his feet did not affect his observation: the young man has a strong body, with bulging upper arm muscles, like a trainer.His western clothes are of good style, made of British tweed and cut in foreign countries. Since the Japanese entered the customs, such good things are rare.It's just that this young man wears his clothes too hard, and there are two big bumps on his knees, like dough pockets, and the elbows of his jacket are starting to shine, but they haven't fluffed yet.British good stuff is squeamish and can't help being so endlessly spoiled.No need to ask, this is a "young man" who has only recently become poor.

The room on the second floor had no windows, and the small 15-candle light bulb illuminated the young man's face scorched yellow, which was very ugly.There is no suitcase in the room, which is disappointing.There is a four-poster bed against the wall, without any curtains, and there is a broken square table by the door, with a round package on it, and I don't know what it is inside.There is no valuable thing in the house, so frustrated! He didn't feel that he was being fooled, only that he was irritated. When the Japanese came, there were more and more poor people on this road, just like the situation in the year when the Qing Dynasty fell.

"Young master, you called the wrong person! We are playing hard drums, not soft drums to collect rags, they can carry the burden!" The look on the man's face became arrogant.In Ding Shaomei's eyes, this is exactly the kind of contempt that the poor look at the poor that he is often reviewed by people recently, and the chill is piercing. "I'll buy those with trendy silver, and I'll buy those with jewelry, emerald diamonds, and antique calligraphy and paintings..." The man picked up the yo-yo in the Huajie again, like a long laugh. Ding Shaomei turned around and rummaged in the bed, her whole body was cold, the top of her head was numb, and helplessness was written on her back.He found himself sick.

This was originally a rare and good bed, with Nanyang hardwood bedposts, but it was carved with obscene bas-reliefs by countless "art" guests.He couldn't find anything of value in it that had been left out, except for a woodcut-illustrated American novel—Melville's. The three-star brandy box under the bed suffered another misfortune. It contained only a change of underwear. Although the price was good, it couldn't be sold. Who would have thought that a few months ago, he was a well-packed student studying abroad at Oxford University, but today he is almost without food and clothing.Ding Shaomei's heart is pounding.But he had already figured it out, to this day, he should no longer be sad because he has no money to enjoy it, and there are more important things waiting there than money—revenge for his father who died tragically.

Among the relics left by Dad, there is a small note hidden in the case of the pocket watch. Now the pocket watch is hung on his vest. It is a souvenir and cannot be sold.Dad hastily wrote on the note: If I die, Tokugawa Nobuo may still be alive.He must be alive, only he can see through my identity! Tokugawa Nobuo is obviously a Japanese, and he must be the murderer who killed his father, no matter whether he killed him directly or indirectly, there is no doubt about it.So, who is Nobuo Tokugawa?This person is tall, short, fat and thin, black and white, ugly and handsome, where does he live?This is Ding Shaomei's pain.In this matter, his finance courses at Oxford—the sleight of hand in the precious metals and stock markets—nor his amateur espionage training hadn't helped, at least not yet.

But, is he the only one who can see through his father's identity?Why?Daddy is just an antique dealer who lives in foreign villages, what other identity does he have?Talking to himself is a new problem, and he is afraid that he will go crazy. So, find Tokugawa Nobuo, kill him, and avenge your father, is that right?It's not that simple.Ding Shaomei's questioning of himself made him furious. Another thing that made him suspicious was that this note was definitely not addressed to him, and he was still in Oxford at the time.Who is Daddy going to pass the news on to? Of course, it is inconvenient to say clearly that there is another pain. It is not just Tokugawa Nobuo who wants to avenge his father. Now, in his view, all the Orientals who invaded China are his enemies.With this in mind, he even wanted to kill a few of them immediately.

This thought is extremely crazy, he is clear about it, but it is as hard to get rid of as a devil.This is a time of war, when the war between two nations comes together, morality disappears without a trace, and the only thing left is victory and defeat. My hatred represents only myself.He was yelling, not explaining to anyone. "Hey, do I make sense?" Ding Shaomei turned around and asked, but he didn't say anything just now. The drummer had already opened the package on the table. Inside was a large blue and white porcelain jar that was almost round. He held it up in his hand, leaned close to the light, and wanted to see the inscription clearly, and said, "I said, you In a room, this is still an object."

"Put it down, please put it back on the table." Ding Shaomei kept her tone calm, as if she was afraid of scaring the person, and at the same time slightly bent her arms, spread her ten fingers, and placed them in front of her. "It really looks like something from the Ming Dynasty. It's not too fake." The man ignored Ding Shaomei, and raised the porcelain jar dangerously above his head. Literally smeared. "This kind of thing is not worth much nowadays. The Japanese love the five colors of the Kangxi and Qianlong dynasties. Devils call them Chihui, so they don't like this kind of thing. If you plan to give it to me, it won't be worth a few bucks."

Ding Shaomei didn't move, she still opened her fingers, staring at the porcelain jar, like a cat preying. "Let me tell you, how much do you want? If you're not good at it, I'll give you a real price. Apart from me, there is no such kind-hearted person these days." The porcelain pot was in the man's hand, holding the bottom with one hand and covering it with the other. Cover. "To put it nicely, I'm a fool to be a good person, 10 yuan! How about it? Gaxin's Union Bank Note. If you are afraid that the Union Bank Note will not work well in the concession, I still have legal currency here, but I can only give you 8 yuan "If you have to ask for ocean, let's put it bluntly, if I'm unlucky, it's only two yuan, can you make it? Right now, ocean is not easy to buy, so you have to get it cheap. Give me a quick word." It also showed that he really wanted to trick this porcelain pot away.

"Do you smoke? Cigarettes or cigars?" Ding Shaomei inexplicably let go of the cigarette, waiting there with both hands like a chicken. "You're welcome, old man, I smoke dry tobacco." The man put the porcelain jar on the table with a bang. "What's in here? It's so heavy." He was about to take off the lid of the porcelain jar. In an instant, Ding Shaomei's hand also followed. With one hand, he pressed the porcelain pot with its lid on the table, and with the other hand, he held the round belly of the pot, turned his body to the left, lifted his right foot lightly, and gently Kick on the man's knee. Don't use too much force, if you are too strong, you will lose your balance and break the porcelain pot by mistake.He felt as calm as water. Our Ding is by no means a boorish man, nor is he crazy.He was talking to himself again.