A bad cut can spell ruin, a good cut can bring wealth, and another can leave you in rags! Ruili, a place that drives people mad and fascinates them, a place where epic dramas of extreme joy and sorrow unfold daily!
But all of this feels too distant for me.
This morning, enduring the groans of my empty stomach, I got up and padded barefoot to the kitchen. The kitchen was bare, the pot was empty, not a grain of rice in sight. No movement from my parents' room, it seemed breakfast was once again a no-show.
I tugged at my shorts, which had lost most of their elasticity, and rummaged by the bedside for something to wear. It was the depth of winter, and though Ruili doesn't freeze, it gets quite chilly in the early mornings and evenings. Long sleeves and pants were still a necessity.
These few pieces of clothing were so worn and torn, I had no other options.
I found an outfit that looked like it had fewer holes and put it on. Shouldering my schoolbag, I headed to school.
The year was 1994, I was sixteen and in my first year of high school.
If you've ever heard the phrase "too poor to boil a pot of rice," it probably describes my family.
We often wouldn't cook for two or three days straight. When we did, it was just a few grains of rice boiled into a pot of thin soup, the rice cooked until it was practically mush, and each of us would grab a bowl to fill our bellies.
My stomach rumbled, and as I walked, I forced myself to move past the street food stalls that steamed with hot, fragrant food, resisting the urge to even smell them.
As I walked, a classmate called out to me, "Huazi, Huazi, come on, let's go together."
The one calling me was Liu Yilong. His father was a butcher, and perhaps because his family ate well, he was plump. No one called him Yilong; everyone called him Little Fatty.
I quickened my steps to catch up with him. As I got closer, my traitorous stomach growled again.
Little Fatty asked, "Didn't eat breakfast again?"
I said my mom worked late last night and hadn't gotten up yet. It was fine; I was used to it.
Little Fatty didn't say anything more, but he ran back home, came out with two steamed buns, and said to me, "They're still warm, eat them quickly."
He shoved them into my arms and pulled me towards school, warning that we'd be late if we didn't hurry.
I was truly starving. The two buns vanished in two or three bites, leaving me hiccuping from the dryness.
Little Fatty, being heavy, couldn't run far before needing to stop, bending over and gasping for air.
I stood waiting for him when suddenly, I felt a slap on my back. I turned my head to see Da Laizi from our class. He grabbed my hair and yelled, "Are you looking for death, you bastard? You dare touch my woman? Don't you want to live anymore?"
He was talking about Wang Xin. She was my neighbor, we grew up together, and often did homework together.
Wang Xin didn't like him and always avoided him. After school, she'd ask me to walk with her, giving Da Laizi no opportunity. He was taking his frustration out on me.
Little Fatty came over and tried to pull him off, saying, "Da Laizi, let go of him!"
Da Laizi retorted, "Are you trying to be a hero, you punk? Get lost! Believe me, I'll beat you both today!"
Da Laizi held onto me, and four other guys stood around, eyeing us with contempt.
Little Fatty exclaimed, "Damn your mother, what if I interfere today!" With that, he threw a punch, hitting Da Laizi on the bridge of his nose. Da Laizi clutched his nose and let go, and I saw blood flowing from his hand.
Da Laizi shouted, "Are you all blind? Go get them! Whoever lays a hand on them gets five yuan today!"
Upon hearing that, the four guys charged forward as if injected with adrenaline. Two teamed up, pinning us down and beating us. Little Fatty, being stronger than me, could still put up a fight for a few blows. I, however, was miserable. I was immediately knocked to the ground, and I could only cover my head as punches rained down on me like a storm.
Despite Little Fatty's ferocity, he was no match for two opponents. Soon, we were both overwhelmed and beaten black and blue. They dragged us to our feet and stood us before Da Laizi.
Da Laizi stepped forward and slapped Little Fatty, asking, "So you think you're tough, huh? Daring to hit me, Da Laizi! You don't fear death, do you? Remember this: this is just the beginning. It'll be you two. I'll beat you every time I see you, until Wang Xin comes to me. Got it?"
Little Fatty closed his eyes and ignored him. Da Laizi then slapped me again, "Did you hear what I said? Are you mute?"
I spat a glob of phlegm onto Da Laizi's face, "Not a chance!"
Da Laizi kicked me hard in the stomach. Intense pain shot through my entire body. I endured it, glaring at him with all my might.
Da Laizi didn't press further. He told his subordinates, "Let them go. If I don't see them at school after class today, we'll continue the beating tomorrow!"
They released us. Little Fatty quickly ran over to help me up. I clutched my stomach, hunched over, and told him, "It hurts, I can't straighten up."
Little Fatty picked me up and placed me on the roadside curb nearby, helping me to sit properly. He looked at me anxiously. I told him, "You should hurry to class, you'll be late. I'm fine, I'll be better after a while."
Little Fatty asked, "Are you really okay? Should we go to the clinic?"
"I'm really fine, you should go now. Being late means detention. Go quickly."
The school's warning bell could already be heard. Little Fatty, with no other choice, ran towards school, looking back at me repeatedly. If he didn't leave now, he would truly be late.
I was used to skipping class, so missing this one wouldn't make much of a difference.
As the pain subsided a little, I tried to stand up. Looking at the quiet school, I knew that going now would inevitably earn me a scolding from a teacher, so it was better not to go.
I wandered aimlessly through the streets of Ruili, unsure of where to pass the time. I certainly couldn't go home at this hour; it would mean a severe beating.
The place I skipped school to go most often was the jade gambling shops.
The jade gambling market wasn't as prosperous then as it is now. They were small street stalls, with many stones displayed inside a single room, and a cutting master at the entrance. There weren't many people around either; it was mostly locals.
I liked to squat by the entrance and watch the master cut the stones.
When one person gambled on a stone, it would attract many onlookers. Someone would anxiously stare at the cutting machine and shout, while many others would cheer them on.
I stayed silent, squatting nearby and watching.
There weren't many people on the street, and the shops were quiet and deserted. Few people were buying stones, and the sound of the cutting machine was barely audible.
The stone-cutting master sat by the entrance, smoking. Seeing me approach, he grinned and said, with the cigarette dangling from his lips, "Skipping class again?"
I nodded, not daring to mention the beating. The master pointed to a discarded stone nearby and motioned for me to sit down.
The master said, "Why don't you just quit school and learn to cut stones with me? One yuan per cut, and you get a red envelope if the stone yields a gem."
At that time, a worker's salary was only about a hundred yuan, which wasn't even five yuan a day. Cutting stones could earn at least ten yuan a day, not counting the red envelopes.
Many people wanted to apprentice with him, but he wouldn't necessarily take them.
The master was in his thirties, with a full beard. I called him Uncle Beard. Every time I skipped school, I would come to watch him cut stones.
"My family would find out and beat me. They're counting on me to go to college."
Uncle Beard scoffed, "Forget it. You go to school less often than you come here. What college are you going to? A jade college?"
"A jade college is still a college, but I can't get in," I said, looking down.
Uncle Beard replied, "Why bother with a jade college? I'll teach you. Don't look at Uncle Beard not gambling on stones, my eyes are sharp as a hawk. I can tell what kind of stone it is at a glance."
"If you're so good at spotting them, why don't you gamble yourself?"
Uncle Beard's face twitched instantly, and he froze for a moment before saying, "Uncle Beard doesn't like to gamble. Cutting stones is good enough. Look, aren't I supporting my family?"
I asked, "Do you really want to teach me? I don't have money for tuition."
Uncle Beard said, "Do you want to learn or not? If you want to learn, I'll teach you for free."
My eyes lit up, and I nodded vigorously.