RBI1960 Chapter 29 V2

“Exactly. A kid only asks for so little—how could I say no?”

Gu Xiashi didn’t bother explaining. He simply acknowledged Jiang Yiliu as his son and turned to the woman with a helpless expression. “The kid’s been whining about wanting to look at comic booklets. As his dad, I can’t just deny him a few little books, can I? He’s tired of the ones we brought last time and insisted on picking some himself. What could I do? Parents can never win against their kids.”

“Auntie, do you have comic books here? I want to read comic books,” Jiang Yiliu immediately picked up on his uncle’s intentions. He knew that, at this time, a junk collection station could hold plenty of hidden treasures. With his heart racing, he feigned innocence and asked the middle-aged woman sweetly.

The woman chuckled, her shoulders shaking with laughter as she covered her mouth. “This kid, calling me auntie when I could be his mom! You little charmer.”

Every woman, no matter the era, cares about her age.

Gu Xiashi gave his little nephew an approving glance, then said to the cheerful woman, “Same deal as always, sis. I’ll just let the kid pick out a few comic books.”

As he spoke, he stepped forward carefully, shielding his actions with his bulky coat, and discreetly handed her a one-yuan bill.

The woman glanced around cautiously, then quickly accepted the money. “Alright, go on in. The people bringing in scrap won’t show up till the afternoon. Take your time, but don’t touch anything you shouldn’t. A few families got in real trouble from dealing with the wrong stuff.”

“I know, I know,” Gu Xiashi nodded earnestly. “You’ve seen me take anything sketchy in the past?”

The woman thought about it and nodded too. Who would want a hot potato like that? She opened the gate and let them in, then closed it behind them. As usual, she sat down on her small stool, crossed her legs, and kept an eye on the area.

Jiang Yiliu knew that in his past life, his uncle had secretly stashed away quite a few valuable antiques, likely collected during this very period. Right now, though, owning antiques was a liability. With the “Four Olds” being purged everywhere, who knew what trouble such things could bring, especially books and paintings? A single mistake could drag the whole family down.

Antiques weren’t worth much at this point either. A Qing dynasty porcelain vase might not be as tempting as a pound of white flour. Who would’ve guessed the junk people tossed like garbage would someday be worth a fortune?

Of course, there were some with foresight, like the man standing before him now.

The junk yard was big. Besides the open courtyard, there were three brick-tiled rooms. Books and papers, which could easily be damaged by rain, were kept inside, while large appliances and scrap metal cluttered the yard.

“In times of chaos, gold is king. In times of peace, people collect,” Gu Xiashi said, pointing at the piles of what looked like trash. “Right now, people treat all this stuff like junk. But give it a few years—its value will rise.”

“Our country won’t stay in chaos forever. The things our ancestors left behind won’t be abandoned.” He sighed. He didn’t think Jiang Yiliu was too young to understand—his nephew was smart. He’d get the message.

“Go look around. You might find a fun little comic book.”

Gu Xiashi led his nephew into one of the rooms. Inside was a mountain of paper, stacked so high it nearly reached the ceiling. Jiang Yiliu worried that pulling one book might cause the whole thing to collapse.

“I’ll be right outside,” Gu Xiashi said. “Yell if you need anything.”

The things that interested him were in the yard. Once he saw his nephew was safely inside, he left.

Gu Xiashi wasn’t interested in this old paper pile, but Jiang Yiliu was. He picked a corner and started digging.

Most of the papers were worthless old magazines and newspapers. Jiang Yiliu searched for a long time but didn’t find anything special. After bending over for so long, his back was sore. He rubbed his lower back and sighed in disappointment. Treasure hunting was harder than it looked.

As he stood up to stretch, something colorful in the corner of the paper pile caught his eye. His eyes lit up, and he rushed over, brushing away the papers to uncover a perfectly preserved comic book.

He wasn’t just looking for these out of childish nostalgia—well-preserved, rare comic booklets like this were worth a lot in the future.

For example, the one he was holding now—“The Gadfly”—was a 1955 hardcover edition published by New Art Press. In the future, such a small booklet could sell for as much as 20,000 yuan. That might not sound like a fortune, but in this era, it only costs a few cents. That’s a massive return on investment.

Back in the day, there were still many small book stalls around town. For a few cents, you could buy one. Or for just one cent, you could sit at the stall all day and read everything there. Families with a bit of money would gladly give their kids that penny to keep them occupied for hours.

Because they were so cheap, the book stalls were always busy. Kids crowded them every day, and even adults would be tempted to buy a few books to take home.

But once the Cultural Revolution started, those stalls vanished. Families either lost their comic books to wear and tear or, fearing trouble, burned them as kindling. Very few survived, let alone in perfect condition.

Jiang Yiliu remembered the value of these comic books so clearly because he once had one himself—“Reconnaissance Across the Yangtze,” published in 1957. His uncle had given it to him. Later, it was worth 100,000 yuan. But it was stolen by his cousin Jiang Aiguo, and to this day, he has never found out what happened to it.

After learning the book’s value, Jiang Yiliu kept a sharp eye out for information on these comic books. He knew their worth better than most.

Encouraged by his find, Jiang Yiliu dove back into the paper mountain, hoping to uncover more treasures.

The tattered ones weren’t worth much, but he gathered them anyway. The pristine copies were already safely stored in his personal space, where he’d cleared a shelf just for them. On the surface, he only kept two or three visibly worn books to avoid arousing his uncle’s suspicion.

He sighed, looking at the half-unsearched pile. Others who got reborn in the 1960s seemed to easily stumble upon priceless calligraphy and paintings. Why couldn’t he be that lucky? He hadn’t found a single scroll or piece of artwork so far.

Then again, true treasures are rare for a reason—if they were easy to find, they wouldn’t be worth much.

His disappointment quickly passed. With renewed energy, he rushed toward another pile of books. These were his future startup funds. If he missed this chance, who knew when he’d be able to visit the county again?

Splat!

His foot slipped on something slick, and he tumbled to the ground. Luckily, it was winter and he was bundled up, so his knees didn’t get hurt. His palm, though, was scraped and burned with pain.

He brought his mouth to the wound and licked it instinctively. People said saliva was the best disinfectant, and he didn’t have ointment. The bandages in his space were too suspicious-looking to use openly, so he resorted to this crude method to stop the bleeding.

While tending his wound, he glanced at the thing he’d tripped on.

It was a slender wooden case lying quietly nearby. The cylindrical lid had rolled off, revealing a sliver of pristine white scroll peeking out.

His eyes gleamed, and he forgot the pain completely. He ran over, picked up the wooden case and lid, and examined it closely.

The box was smooth and cool to the touch, polished to a mirror-like shine. Just from the craftsmanship, he could tell it was no ordinary item. His anticipation soared—whose painting could it be?

He was just about to take out the scroll when footsteps approached from outside. Startled, he hurriedly stuffed the case into his space and grabbed a few comic books from the floor, pretending nothing had happened.

“You turned this place upside down, huh?”

Gu Xiashi stepped inside and saw newspapers and books scattered all over the floor. He laughed, pointing at his dusty, disheveled nephew.

“Find any treasure?” he teased. His tone was playful, and it was obvious from his mood that he’d scored something good today.

Seeing it was only his uncle, Jiang Yiliu breathed a sigh of relief and handed over the few comic books as a decoy. Though his uncle treated him sincerely, the secret of his storage space was too extraordinary. He wouldn’t risk it. That secret would stay buried forever.

“Still just a kid,” Gu Xiashi said, flipping through the booklets casually before handing them back. “If you like these, I’ll bring them again next time.”

Jiang Yiliu was reluctant to leave the half-unsearched pile behind, but he had no choice. Since his uncle said it was time to go, he followed.

“Uncle, what treasure did you find?” he asked curiously. His uncle didn’t seem to be carrying anything bulky, so maybe the treasure was something small?

He guessed right. Because they had to pass by the gatekeeper on their way out, Gu Xiashi never took anything too large. Even in winter, big items stuffed under a coat were too obvious.

Gu Xiashi unbuttoned his coat, reached inside mysteriously, and pulled out two small objects—each no larger than Jiang Yiliu’s palm. He handed them over carefully. “These are treasures. Don’t drop them.”

Jiang Yiliu took one in each hand and examined them closely.