Grotesqueries of the Old Domain

Chapter 21: Special Abilities

“Then what can I exchange it for?” Zhang Wenda’s heart pounded. If only there were a special ability that could remove rules—even better, if there were pain immunity!

He truly hadn’t expected that Rabbit would give such a big gift; next time he met her, he definitely owed her a big thanks.

“First, pay the money—10 yuan.” That skeletal, monster-like hand emerged again from behind the counter, slowly opening.

Zhang Wenda stared silently at the 2.47 yuan in his hand. He hadn’t expected this twist—having the ticket wasn’t enough, there was also a fee. “That’s not enough… can I just pay a down payment first?”

“It wastes my time! Go ask your parents!” an impatient voice rang out. That special-ability ticket was tossed back to him like garbage.

“Ah.” Zhang Wenda stuffed the ticket back into his pocket and frowned, mentally calculating how to scrape together the money.

“A youtiao is 0.01 yuan, a bun is 0.02 yuan, a lollipop is 0.25 yuan… 10 yuan is no small amount.” Zhang Wenda never thought there would be a day when 10 yuan would stump him.

He only had 2.47 yuan total saved, and the 2 yuan came from working himself ragged—meaning he'd need to risk his life four times over just to earn enough to trade for the special ability.

But where would he find that many life‑risking opportunities?

After much thought, Zhang Wenda thought of Little Fatty, whose family was well-off. He turned and headed to his place.

Thirty minutes later, he arrived downstairs.

“Mouse! You’re here! Want to hang out?” Pan Dongzi’s face lit up eagerly.

“No,” Zhang Wenda answered bluntly. “I came to borrow money.” Little Fatty’s features scrunched up like a bun.

“How much?”

“Fifteen yuan.”

“What?!” Seeing the stunned look on Little Fatty’s face, Zhang Wenda lowered his request.

“I don’t have that much—seven yuan will do. I’ll figure out the rest myself.”

“Don’t say seven—I haven’t even got 0.70 yuan!”

“Don’t lie to me—I know you have money. At school, you never stopped talking about it.”

Little Fatty hastily covered Zhang Wenda’s mouth, glanced toward home, then whispered: “I only sneak it from my dad’s till—and he caught me a few days ago. I got beaten badly.”

Then Zhang Wenda saw Pan Dongzi roll up his sleeve to show the “Seven Wolves” tattoo his father had printed on his arm.

“Now don’t even mention money—I’m not allowed near the till at all.”

Seeing Zhang Wenda’s speechless expression, Pan Dongzi asked, “Are you really short on cash?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll introduce you to my sister. Help her tidy rooms and clean—2 fen pay. If you add massage and laundry, 5 fen.”

Hearing those harsh terms, Zhang Wenda didn’t even think. “Wow, your sister is a capitalist...”

Zhang Wenda fretted. With Little Fatty’s route closed, how would he raise 7.50 yuan?

“Oh! What about my deskmate, the glasses guy—does he have money?”

“You mean Yang Shu? No—heard his parents were laid off.”

“If that fails, I’ll work like a beast—I’ve done it before. Little Fatty, let’s go to the Youth Center.” Zhang Wenda didn’t believe it was always so dangerous there, and he could save 0.50 yuan each time—it wouldn’t take long.

“Can’t go—the teacher said you can only go once a week.” That comment put another dark cloud over Zhang Wenda’s mind.

Still thinking, suddenly a familiar black flicker zipped through the nearby grass.

Zhang Wenda furrowed his brow, sensing a threat.

“Let’s go, get out of here.” Zhang Wenda grabbed Little Fatty and hurried off.

“Where to?” Pan Dongzi asked, surprised.

“Take me to the place that sells lollipops. I want to buy some.”

Soon, led by Little Fatty, Zhang Wenda arrived at an old‑style small store. A signboard read three big characters: “Supply‑and‑Marketing Cooperative.”

Again, the counter was very high—like at the bookstore.

But this time he wasn’t alone. Once riding on Fatty’s shoulders, he finally saw that giant hand among the snacks—bigger than his whole body.

Behind the hand was a drab-yellow military uniform, like a solid Buddha statue standing in darkness.

Zhang Wenda only saw that. The rest of the hand was hidden in blackness; faint opera singing drifted from the darkness.

He was stunned by the scene—only when a deep voice from the darkness asked what he wanted did he react: “Uh... lollipops—four sticks.”

Even though he was short on money, he knew when to splurge. Lollipops were like healing red ointment—quickly healing wounds—especially after what he’d gone through with Song Jianguo; in this unsafe world, he needed to stock up.

He extended his 2‑yuan note toward the giant hand. It lifted, pressing down like Mount Tai—but just in time, it shrank back, to about three times larger than a normal hand, and took the money.

“Kids eating candy is bad—watch for cavities. You can buy only three sticks a day.”

Before Zhang Wenda could respond, the money and three lollipops were handed back, and he was ushered out.

“What’s with the rule? A limit on lollipops too?” Zhang Wenda looked at what he held, half laughing, half crying.

As he prepared to stow the lollipops, he noticed Little Fatty drooling in envy.

“Here, son.” He handed one over.

“Mouse, thanks!” Pan Dongzi gratefully shoved it into his mouth.

“Don’t just eat—tell me, do you know about special abilities?” Zhang Wenda popped a lollipop before any wounds could appear.

Under its soothing effect, whether old Youth Center wounds or new cuts, they were slowly healed.

Since he couldn’t get money now, he decided to gather intel from locals.

“Know about them? I have a special ability!!”

“You do?!” Zhang Wenda was shocked—had this pig‑headed boy been hiding it all along?

“Yeah, I do!” Pan Dongzi held the candy and spoke assertively.

Seeing Zhang Wenda didn’t believe him, he panicked, covering his own eyes: “You point to any number with your finger.”

“What?”

“Do as I say—gesture a number! Don’t tell me.”

When Zhang Wenda held up four fingers, Pan Dongzi, still covering his eyes, tilted his head and murmured: “It’s four, right?”

He dropped his hand and looked proudly at Zhang Wenda: “That’s my special ability—I can read numbers with my ears!”

Zhang Wenda sighed. “What a useless special ability…”

Hearing that, Little Fatty hurriedly exclaimed: “How is it useless! Only I can do it!”

“Then why don’t you just read with your eyes?”

“Uh… um…”

While Pan Dongzi stumbled over his words, Zhang Wenda suddenly pulled him to hide nearby.

Leaning against a corner, Zhang Wenda watched warily a sneaky black cat head on a roof in the distance.

“This woman never stops—does she think I’m a pushover?”

Seeing that clearly the black cat sent by Song Jianguo, a surge of anger filled Zhang Wenda.