The South Gate Vegetable Market was the most bustling and chaotic place in the city.
It lacked the cold, sterile order of a supermarket, possessing instead a vibrant, thriving chaos.
The rain did nothing to dampen the human-scented air. On the contrary, the sound of rain drumming on the canopy, the splashing in puddles on the ground, and the clamor of haggling all mixed together to create a unique scene.
The air was filled with the smell of damp earth, chicken droppings from the poultry section, the fishy stench from the seafood area, and the aroma of freshly baked flatbread. This mixture fermented into a potent odor that shot straight to the top of your head.
Zhang Qiang, in a pair of sneakers spattered with mud, carefully sidestepped the black puddles filled with rotten vegetable leaves as he weaved through the crowded stream of people.
He was short and chubby, carrying a large backpack. Surrounded by a mob of aunties and uncles armed with vegetable baskets and boasting explosive combat power, he looked like a husky that had wandered into a wolf pack.
But he didn’t care.
He was a special agent on a mission.
He kept his eyes fixed forward.
He walked straight past the toy stall at the entrance, even though the new, light-up yo-yo with a clutch was incredibly tempting.
He also ignored the fried skewer stand, though the freshly fried pork loin was incredibly fragrant, SIZZLING with oil.
He swallowed hard, conquering his appetite with sheer willpower.
’That’s food for mortals,’
Zhang Qiang told himself.
’Today’s money is for replenishing Brother Zhuo’s brain.’
He headed straight for the market’s dried goods section.
The area was overflowing with walnuts, red dates, melon seeds, and wood ear mushrooms.
"Come on, come on! Freshly arrived paper-thin-shell walnuts! Five yuan a jin! If they’re not fragrant, you don’t have to pay!"
A bald stall owner stood behind his stand, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. He held a cattail-leaf fan, shooing away flies as he shouted his sales pitch.
A mountain of walnuts was piled up high in front of him.
Zhang Qiang stopped in his tracks.
He stood before the stall but didn’t act like the other aunties—grabbing a handful to inspect, tasting one, or asking for a discount.
’That’s all too common.’
He placed his backpack on a clean patch of ground and unzipped it. Then, like an expert about to defuse a bomb, he slowly and ceremoniously pulled the 20-centimeter, teeth-marked plastic ruler from his pants pocket.
The bald owner froze for a second.
He’d been selling dried goods for ten years and was a well-known figure in the South Gate Vegetable Market. What kind of people hadn’t he seen?
He’d seen people bring their own spring scales to reweigh their purchases, afraid of being short-changed.
He’d seen people bring magnifying glasses to check the quality, afraid of buying old stock.
He’d even seen hot-tempered customers bring hammers to crack them open on the spot.
But someone who brought a beat-up primary school ruler...
"Hey kid, buying walnuts? Pick whichever you want, just don’t toss ’em around."
The owner called out casually, blowing a smoke ring.
"Don’t you go dropping that ruler in there. These walnuts are for eating."
Zhang Qiang ignored him.
He took a deep breath, his gaze turning sharp.
He mimicked Chen Zhuo, pushing up a pair of non-existent glasses.
He reached out a chubby little hand and carefully picked one walnut from the pile.
Phase One: Size Screening.
Zhang Qiang squinted one eye. Holding the walnut in his left hand and the ruler in his right, he aligned the chipped "0" mark with one end of the walnut.
His expression was as solemn as if he were measuring the fuse of an atomic bomb.
"2.8 centimeters..."
Zhang Qiang’s brow furrowed in disgust.
’No good. Too small, underdeveloped.’
’If this was in First High, it’d be a failing grade. Brother Zhuo’s brain is for holding great principles, for calculating those... those symbols with curves in them. This little thing isn’t even big enough to get stuck in his teeth.’
Toss.
The walnut tumbled back into the pile.
He grabbed another and measured it with the ruler.
"3.2 centimeters. Hmm, the size barely passes."
Next up: Gyrus Depth Test.
This was the most critical part.
Zhang Qiang turned the ruler on its side.
He scraped the corner of the ruler inside the crevices of the walnut shell a couple of times.
He was feeling for the resistance.
’Too shallow.’
Zhang Qiang sighed and shook his head at the walnut, his expression one of bitter disappointment.
’The grooves are too shallow. It’s like a smooth cerebral cortex, no depth at all.’
’If he ate this, his thinking would definitely be superficial. Brother Zhuo is working on... calculus! That requires depth! A shallow-shelled walnut like this is only good for addition and subtraction, and only within ten at that.’
Toss.
He grabbed another.
This one was big, and ugly.
Its surface was pockmarked with bottomless ravines, like a wrinkly old man’s face.
Zhang Qiang’s eyes lit up.
He stuck the corner of the ruler in, and it actually got stuck.
"Yes! This one is good!"
Zhang Qiang couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.
"Look at these gyri! Look at this depth! This is practically a super-thinker! If he eats this, won’t the folds in his brain grow by two feet?"
He carefully placed the ugly walnut to one side—the qualifying zone.
The bald owner finally couldn’t take it anymore.
He put down his fan, leaned over the pile of walnuts on his stall, and stared at Zhang Qiang with an expression like he was looking at a lunatic.
His cigarette had almost burned down to the filter.
"Hey, hey, hey! Little fatty!"
"What are you doing, picking a wife? Measuring her with a ruler? Talking about deep and shallow?"
"Are you buying or not? If not, stop messing up my piles! These are already sorted by grade! Tossing one here, tossing one there... you’re going to polish my walnuts to a patina with all that handling!"
Zhang Qiang looked up.
He looked at the owner with an expression that said, ’One cannot speak of ice with a summer insect.’
It was the pride unique to a scientist’s assistant.
"Boss, you don’t understand."
Zhang Qiang pointed at the pile of walnuts with his ruler, his tone calm and steady.
"I’m not just picking these for fun. I’m conducting scientific material selection."
"Scientific research?"
The owner was so annoyed he laughed, revealing a set of yellow teeth.
"You’re doing scientific research with a beat-up ruler? What research institute are you from? The Yu Hong Primary School Research Institute?"
"The ruler may be beat-up, but the standards are strict."
Zhang Qiang’s face was solemn, his voice loud and clear. The surrounding aunties who were shopping had all stopped to watch the spectacle.
"I’m buying supplies for a future great scientist! Do you have any idea how precious a scientist’s brain is? It’s like... it’s like one of those precision instruments you see on TV!"
"In this pile of yours, most of them are defective products."
Zhang Qiang casually picked up a paper-thin-shell walnut with a smooth surface.
"Look at this one. The shell is so thin, so smooth. You can tell at a glance it’s for a brain that can only think about simple questions like ’What’s for lunch today?’ That’s for mortals to eat."
"The ones I’ve chosen..."
He pointed to the small pile of ugly, misshapen walnuts by his feet.
"These are all elites that have passed a rigorous screening! They are the Einsteins of the walnut world!"
"I’m helping you sort your products! I’m helping you raise the technological value of your goods! Do you understand?"
This speech—with its grandiose vocabulary, bizarre logic, and resolute attitude—completely dumbfounded the bald owner.
Especially that line about "the Einsteins of the walnut world." It sounded impressive, even if you didn’t quite understand it.
The onlooking aunties also began to murmur amongst themselves:
"The kid seems to be making some sense."
"Yeah, the ones with more wrinkles do look like brains."
"Aiyo, what a thoughtful child, buying walnuts for a scientist."
The owner was put in an awkward position by this wave of public opinion.
He looked at the little fatty who was only 1.5 meters tall and suddenly felt the kid had an irrefutable aura about him.
It was Zhang Qiang’s aura of persistence.
"Fine, fine, fine..."
The owner let out another exasperated laugh, then threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.
"You pick. Go on, pick. I’d like to see what masterpiece you can come up with."
"But let me be clear: whatever you pick out, no haggling!"
"Don’t worry."
Zhang Qiang waved his hand magnanimously.
"For science, money is no object!"
Having received official authorization, Zhang Qiang completely let loose.
He became a tireless sorting machine, turning the pile of walnuts upside down.
Twenty minutes later.
Zhang Qiang’s legs were numb from squatting, and his hands were stained dark brown from the walnut husks.
In front of him, on that relatively clean patch of ground, were two small piles.
The pile on the left, weighing a little over two jin, was full of bizarrely shaped, deeply grooved, and enormous specimens. They looked like devil fruits grown in the depths of hell.
The pile on the right—the rejects—was mercilessly judged by Zhang Qiang to be the "dumb, sweet, and naive" walnuts.
"Boss, I’ll take this pile."
Zhang Qiang stood up, dusted off his hands, and pointed at the pile of elite walnuts on the left.
"Weigh them."
The owner looked speechlessly at the pile of ugly, misshapen walnuts the boy had picked out.
Normally, people chose walnuts that were thin-shelled, round, and good-looking.
This damn kid specifically picked the ugly, thick-shelled, heavy ones.
’Isn’t he an idiot? Thicker shell means less meat! Isn’t he just paying for shells?’
"Alright, I’ll give it to you, you’ve got a good eye," the owner muttered as he bagged them.
"This pile is all from old, established trees. The shells are a bit thick, so most people don’t want them—too hard to crack. But they’re oilier and more fragrant."
"Of course,"
Zhang Qiang smugly put away his ruler.
"How could my scientific standards be wrong? A thick shell means a better protective layer, so the brain inside is safer."
"All together, it’s two jin and three liang. Let’s call it two and a half jin. That’ll be twelve yuan."
The owner sighed and threw in a couple of extra handfuls.
Zhang Qiang magnanimously pulled a handful of loose change from his pocket.
It was a massive fortune consisting of a mix of coins, one-jiao and two-jiao notes, and a crumpled five-yuan bill.
He counted it out clearly and handed it to the owner.
"Thanks, Boss! When the scientist wins an award in the future, I’ll have him write you a dedication. We’ll call this place the ’Walnut Base’!"
With that, Zhang Qiang hoisted the heavy bag of brain supplements and, braving the rain, strode out of the vegetable market with a swagger that recognized no kin.

Comments

Loading...