The Fermented Plain Water

No one cared whether Xu Bin relied on his own refurbishing skills or, as he claimed, had some kind of special "connections"—nor did anyone care what those connections were. All people needed to know was that this shop sold high-quality refurbished home appliances at rock-bottom prices, indistinguishable from new ones.

Xu Bin didn't know the full capacity of the sales channel, but he did know that with the speed at which he was turning junk into like-new products, the demand in the provincial capital's secondhand market would soon overwhelm him. His interest, however, had already shifted more toward mobile phones. Fame in home appliances was no longer thrilling; his mindset had changed. In just over a week, he had cleared more than ten thousand yuan in profit—more than he had made in the previous half-year. How could that not change his perspective?

He took a mop and carefully cleaned the shop floor from end to end. Without bulky appliances taking up space, the shop looked much cleaner. Many of the bags of parts he had purchased were actually components he'd salvaged from irreparably damaged devices. He packed them in large black plastic bags and threw them in a nearby garbage truck. Whether or not someone was secretly watching him, this was all he could do. Small-time operations like his likely weren't attracting much attention anyway. With the divine selection system in his hand, Xu Bin felt more confident than ever. To make money and stand tall again—what's a little pain? If anyone dared to come after him, he'd see who was tougher.

Zhong Yu's business next door was also doing well. Several young girls came in for manicures and bought silver accessories. She was so busy that Xu Bin, in a show of gentlemanly courtesy, took the initiative to help out. To his surprise, this brought him a new customer. A stylishly dressed girl waiting for her manicure came over to Xu Bin's side when it got crowded, assuming the two shops were one and the same. She spotted an iPhone 4s in the display case.

She got up and asked Xu Bin to show it to her. Inspecting it closely, she couldn't spot a single sign of wear. "Is this brand new?" she asked.

Xu Bin didn't answer directly—some things are best left vague. "Can you see any signs of it being used?"

The girl rolled her eyes and motioned for him to open the back cover and SIM slot so she could check.

Xu Bin didn't mind—after all, these phones were new, just lacking the official packaging and store credentials.

"Whoa! A 64GB version. You don't see many of those anymore. I love the 4s—don't like the look of the 5 series, was thinking about switching to the 6. What do you think?" she asked her friend, both of them seasoned phone users. After a full inspection, they couldn't find a single trace of prior use.

"How much, boss?" she finally asked. No flaws, not even a screen protector, the glass unblemished—it had to be new, which only meant his refurbishing skills were extraordinary.

"Four thousand five hundred."

"What?! You're kidding, right? A brand-new one doesn't even cost that much. This is secondhand and you're charging a premium?"

Xu Bin replied calmly, "Anyone who's actually used one knows that the 8GB model is basically useless—you can't even store a few photos on it. 64GB isn't made anymore. This phone is new. If you love this classic model, buying one in the future won't just be about money anymore. I wasn't even planning to sell it—I just like the look of the 4s. I use one myself. If it doesn't sell, I'll happily keep it."

So how do you negotiate with a fashionable young woman?

You pique her interest. That's all. Young people hate being talked at. If she's interested, she'll buy without you saying a word. If not, you could talk yourself hoarse and still get nowhere.

"Can we negotiate?" she asked confidently.

"Sure. But not much wiggle room. Depends if you're seriously buying or just wasting time."

"I'm going to have someone check it out." She meant it. Her friend also browsed the display and saw that every phone looked flawless—if not for the modest shopfront, they might've assumed Xu Bin had stolen them from an actual Apple store.

The deal was settled at 3,800 yuan after a phone reseller friend came by to verify the condition.

Zhong Yu observed the whole process. In a single day, she saw Xu Bin rake in nearly ten thousand yuan. She had once scoffed that his shop wouldn't survive here—clearly, she had underestimated him.

Perhaps feeling a loss of superiority, she didn't come over to chat. Instead, she played with her phone in silence. Xu Bin, riding high on success, opened WeChat. The 28-year-old contact he'd been casually chatting with for days sent more lukewarm messages—nothing substantial, just idle chatter, like listening to late-night emotional talk shows. He needed someone to talk to, someone to listen.

Life is like a cup of plain water. When you let time drift by, it becomes tasteless. But when you pack your days full, you realize—even plain water can ferment.

Xu Bin had no time to drift now. His room was empty. He had no snacks left for the evening. He hadn't rested all day. Eight phones still awaited repair, and he needed more broken TVs to complete his tasks.

He stretched and stood, glanced at the shop next door, and saw Zhong Yu eating a bowl of spicy hot pot. Not wanting to disturb her, he locked up and headed to a nearby sauna. Now that he was earning, he figured he might as well enjoy it. A hundred yuan later—steam bath, scrub, massage, and a cupping session—he emerged refreshed. He stuffed himself at a food stall, then hit the supermarket, filling a large bag with junk food. He sighed—gaining weight was almost inevitable, but between that and making money, any man would choose the latter. Women didn't factor into that equation.

He also grabbed two small bags of snacks and headed back. Before he reached the shop, he saw Zhong Yu standing at the door, shooting him a worried look. As soon as their eyes met, she shouted, teeth clenched: "Run!"

"F***! B**ch!" Two men burst from the shop. One slapped Zhong Yu so hard she collapsed. The other, along with two waiting outside, charged at Xu Bin with clubs.

Instinctively, Xu Bin dropped everything and ran. It was pure reflex—four big men wielding sticks? Of course he ran.

"F***!"

A figure leapt from a corner and kicked Xu Bin in the side, sending him sprawling. The four with clubs caught up, swinging wildly at his head and body.

Xu Bin instinctively shielded himself, arms taking the brunt of the blows. Curled on the ground, he could only passively defend himself. The fifth attacker, Che Dong, had planned to stay hidden until he was sure Xu Bin wouldn't escape.

Five grown men beating down one guy in his twenties—pedestrians on the walking street watched from a distance. No one dared intervene. And Zhong Yu, from afar, had already done all she could.

"Think you're tough, little punk? Let's see how tough you really are."

Che Dong kicked him with the toe of his leather shoe, cursing between blows. He couldn't stomach being humiliated that morning. No one listened to Li Jiuren's attempts to mediate. After years of being feared and profiting off shady deals, Che Dong couldn't handle the shift in how people looked at him. Revenge was the only way he could reassert dominance.

Xu Bin, writhing in pain, cursed himself: Xu Shuangquan, you idiot. You knew he might retaliate, and you still let your guard down. Serves you right. You deserve this beating.

When pain reaches a certain threshold, it stops registering. Whether by chance or fate, a shoe kicked him square in the chest. Fueled by pain and self-loathing, Xu Bin seized that foot, twisted upward, and launched himself at the attacker. He ignored the pain, swinging wildly with both fists.

Wham!

A club struck his head. He collapsed, blood flowing down his face. All five attackers froze. What if they had just killed him?

They hesitated. Xu Bin did not. The blood and pain didn't frighten him—they enraged him. Furious at his own carelessness, at how success had made him lax, he felt a strange surge of adrenaline, almost a twisted excitement.

Grabbing a brick from the nearby construction site, he swung it at the nearest man. He forgot all about the divine selection system—nothing was in his mind except fury and humiliation.

"Aaaah!"

Whether out of shock or distraction, the brick connected squarely with a man's forehead, knocking him out cold. Blood streamed down his face.