"Beep beep beep beep..."
A battered walking tractor that had definitely been built thirty years ago and had been in use for all thirty of them, miraculously surviving until now, rolled up in front of the black gate. Thick smoke poured from its exhaust, and it looked as though it might fall apart at any moment.
A man in a black cloak jumped down from the tractor. He stretched his waist, which had nearly been shaken apart, took out his luggage—a small silver case—and then faced the old driver. Placing his right palm over his heart, he bowed slightly and said with extraordinary courtesy, "Thank you for bringing me all the way here. Believe in our god, and he will surely grant you peace and tranquility."
The old man said, "I don't believe in gods. I only believe that if you don't pay the fare we agreed on, I'll stick you with a knife."
As he spoke, he pulled out a rusty knife, rolled it around in his hand, and glared fiercely.
The priest in the black cloak froze for a moment, then smiled.
He obediently pulled a twenty-yuan bill from his pocket and handed it over.
The old man snatched the money, stuffed it into his pocket, then rolled the knife in his hand again. "Another fifty."
The priest was a little confused. "Didn't we agree on twenty?"
The old man stared coldly at him. "When we were outside, it was just me. If I'd asked for seventy right away, would you have paid?"
The priest laughed helplessly. "And now?"
The old man glanced sideways at him. "Now my four sons are working in the fields. What do you think? If I call out, will they come over?"
The priest shook his head with an amused, helpless smile. "I've