I don't know much about what goes on inside the school. My father never discussed his work at home when he was working, and my understanding of the school only began to form when I started high school.
At the higher levels of the school, there's a principal, two vice-principals, a dean of academics, a chief financial officer, and a director of logistics. Except for one vice-principal who is a bit older, the others are all around forty. Any one of them could be vying for the principal position. Could it be that someone among these individuals has a conflict with my father and is using this matter to their advantage? Or perhaps, they are the mastermind behind it all?
I broke out in a cold sweat. The "demoness" might just be a pawn, used by someone else.
No wonder my father was so dejected. He felt the immense power of his enemy and collapsed, giving up!
There’s no breaking through with Dad; he’d never let me get involved in this. I still have to approach the demoness.
You don't want me near Lan Ya, so I'll get close to you!
Easier said than done, though. I had no clue how to approach the demoness.
After finishing my last sip of soup and wiping the moisture from my lips, I got up and headed to the stone gambling stall.
I didn't go to my master's shop. I found a new one. I still had fifteen yuan in my pocket, enough to gamble on a piece of nan hong or agate, though naturally, they'd be very small.
Even the smallest jade rough would cost several hundred to a thousand yuan. If I hadn't met that person earlier, I would have had two thousand yuan on me. Now, with only these ten-plus yuan, there was nothing I could do.
I chose an unfamiliar stall. At my master's shop, he would definitely stop me from gambling, and besides, with only these ten-plus yuan, I wouldn't dare show my face.
This shop had the same layout as my master's stone cutting place: a deep, narrow building with a counter and cutting machines and grinding wheels at the front, and the area where the stones were displayed at the back.
This shop separated stones by different origins and by size. The innermost section held the agate and nan hong rough.
The nan hong rough was all fragmented, with no large pieces. They were about the size of an egg, some like pigeon eggs, all meticulously cleaned. Their exteriors were all quite beautiful.
I had to find a "blind" stone to gamble on. Those where the color was visible were very expensive. Only those where the interior flesh was impossible to discern were cheap.
I rummaged through piles of stones that looked like small mounds, trying to find a suitable one.
I pulled out a stone that was slightly yellowish, with a sandy rind. I felt it with my hand and noticed the sand granules on the rind were standing up. I picked it up and held it against the overhead light. Rubbing it with my fingers, the rind resembled the skin of a lychee. I decided on this one.
Holding the stone, it weighed only about a hundred grams. I took it to the counter to pay.
The owner, an older gentleman, took the stone, glanced at me, and asked, "This stuff isn't worth much. Why not gamble on something bigger?"
I replied, "I like nan hong. If I strike it lucky, I'll make a pendant for myself to wear. I'm just playing around."
The owner didn't say much more. He looked at it and said, "Ten yuan. If you were gambling on jade, I'd give this to you for free. It's a blind piece, not worth much." He seemed to look down on these ten or eight yuan transactions, too lazy to haggle.
I said, "You're too kind. I'm just playing, not really gambling. If something comes out, I'll keep it to play with."
I quickly paid the money. The owner didn't say anything, just waved his hand, indicating for me to find the cutter.
I handed the stone to the cutter and said, "Master, please polish the rind."
The cutter took it, looking somewhat reluctant. The rough was too small; a ten-yuan item wasn't worth the labor cost.
He looked at me. Seeing my earnest expression, he grudgingly went to the machine and made a small cut near the top of the stone.
The cutter looked at it. It was red, but a bit pale. He told me, "There's not much color. Let's cut it in half. If both sides are this color, you could make a pair of Pixiu, and it might sell for a few hundred."
Hearing that there wasn't much color, my heart sank. The cutter handled so many stones daily; if he said there wasn't much color, it probably wouldn't yield much. But I wasn't giving up. I pleaded with the cutter, "Master, just peel off the rind for me. Don't cut it. I think it will yield something."
The cutter held the stone in his hand; it barely fit in his palm. Asking him to peel the rind was really asking too much.
The cutter said, "It's no bigger than a duck egg. Peeling it would cost more in labor than it's worth. I already told you there's no color."
Nan hong primarily relies on color and gelatinous texture. Without color, it's just a piece of glass, worthless.
Seeing my persistence, he opened the cutting machine and reluctantly began grinding the blade. My heart was pounding. This was my first real gamble on a stone, and I had no idea what the outcome would be.
Losing wouldn't be a big deal, but it would be a blow to my confidence. The outcome of winning would surely be different from losing.
This stone was the first one I gambled on using all the theories I'd learned. It would be the test of whether my knowledge was real or just theoretical. Everything depended on the cutter stopping and revealing the result.
After grinding about a third of it, the cutter stopped and said, "It's increased in value, but not by much. Three to five hundred yuan is no problem. However, just polishing the surface isn't considered a significant increase. You should still cut it. If there's usable material inside, it will still sell for a good price."
Upon hearing that it had increased in value, my tension eased. But I was gambling for a fully-colored stone. Although cutting it with usable material would fetch a good price, it was discounted, losing more than half its potential value.
I said, "Master, please continue polishing. I think it can yield a fully-colored piece."
The cutter gave me a skeptical look, lit a cigarette, and without a word, continued grinding on the cutting machine.
There weren't many gamblers in the morning. Two customers with stones were waiting and getting a bit impatient, constantly urging him.
One of them even complained, saying I was disrupting their business by bringing a few-yuan stone here, delaying their earnings.
I felt helpless. The stone was mine, and its value had nothing to do with them. I had the absolute right to dispose of the stone as I pleased. Their comments were unreasonable.
The cutter, however, spoke up, "What are you guys complaining about? Don't you know the customer is king? If it were your turn, could I ignore your opinions? If I could, I would stop and cut for you!"
The cutter was indeed an upright person, which made me feel a bit embarrassed.
The cutter's words silenced those two. He didn't stop working; sparks flew, and the stone's rind was gradually peeled away.
The machine stopped, and the stall fell silent. Everyone waited for the cutter to wash the stone clean and reveal it to us. I never expected a ten-yuan stone to be so captivating. Though the stone wasn't valuable, the cutter had meticulously peeled it clean. If it turned out to be just a worthless rock, it would be a joke.
I estimated that, at the very least, it would be a usable piece of material, enough to make a hand-held ornament. I definitely wouldn't lose money.
However, I was gambling on a fully-colored stone, based on all the information from the outer rind. If I was wrong, my learned knowledge would be compromised.