Abacus Mental Calculation

As the young man emerged from the general store, Tang De's words still echoed in his mind: "A soft tongue can break hard bones, and a wise head is better than any divine weapon or sharp blade." Regardless, Tang De's words offered the despondent youth a strange and inexplicable comfort, lifting his spirits somewhat.

As Zhang Tie passed the flea market, the coal-oil lamps on the street began to light up one by one. The lamplighters of Black Flame City rode their four-wheeled vehicles, ringing bells, stopping at each lamp, climbing the poles to remove the lampshades, refuel them, and relight them before descending. After the lamplighters departed, shadows appeared beneath the row of coal-oil lamps near the train station. Women emerged, heavily made-up, dressed provocatively with exposed cleavage, and casting flirtatious glances at passersby. They stood in small groups, whispering to each other, and then bursts of unrestrained, wild laughter would erupt.

Zhang Tie walked on, glancing at the women under the lamps. They stirred a restless feeling within him, a vague, inexplicable longing.

"Sweetie, come here to Auntie, Auntie will let you taste what it's like to be a man..." The woman speaking stood at the entrance of an alley by a lamp. She had curly red hair and a voluptuous, alluring figure, appearing to be in her forties. Her face was slightly blurred. Seeing Zhang Tie's gaze, she leaned forward slightly, allowing him to see her magnificent, fair bosom in the lamplight. She then cupped her breasts with her hands, eliciting a soft moan, "Ah...", before licking one of her fingers and slowly putting it into her mouth. The mere action caused the muscles in Zhang Tie's throat to tremble like a taut rubber band, igniting a fire within him. The tent in his trousers immediately became rigid. Amidst the woman's unrestrained laughter, Zhang Tie fled in disarray.

The flea market by the train station truly came alive at night. All sorts of people seemed to emerge only after darkness fell. It was only after he had walked nearly a hundred meters away from that terrifying yet alluring woman that Zhang Tie's pounding heart began to calm down. A certain unruly part of him remained stubbornly erect. To avoid embarrassment, Zhang Tie had no choice but to shove his hands into his pockets and use his right hand to firmly press down on his rebellious member through the fabric.

As Zhang Tie was about to leave the flea market, a voice from a roadside stall made him slow his steps.

"Boss, are all these things from the ruins before the Great Cataclysm?"

"Of course. Look at this book. The characters on it seem to be Hua Script. The Andaman City-State Alliance doesn't have publications like this. Look at the cover, this seems to be an abacus used by the Hua Clan, a calculating tool with a long history, traceable back thousands of years before the Great Cataclysm. And look at the printing quality of the cover. If it wasn't from the ruins, how could it be so well preserved?"

"Do you take us for idiots? I know it's Hua Script, but no one can read it. You can say whatever you want, what's the use? What kind of damn abacus? Who still uses such an old-fashioned thing..."

"I am a man of my word..."

The words "Hua Script" made Zhang Tie stop in his tracks. He then walked over and squatted down with the two people in front of the stall, casually browsing. The stall was small, at most two square meters, with a pile of miscellaneous items laid out on a waterproof oilcloth. The only things worth noticing on the stall were the daggers and bronze bracers holding down the four corners of the oilcloth. In the flea market, every vendor would claim their strange items were from the ruins, treasures from before the Great Cataclysm, but even a fool wouldn't believe that...

After squatting for a while, one of the two men bought a decent-looking dagger in a sheath for eight silver coins and sixty copper coins and left. Zhang Tie was then the only one left in front of the stall.

The stall owner was a lecherous old man in his sixties with a bright red, bulbous nose. As Zhang Tie approached, he could smell the scent of cheap liquor on him. The old man's appearance brought to mind a particular animal—a rat.

Zhang Tie casually browsed the stall for a while before finally picking up the book with the abacus printed on its cover and flipping through it. "How much for this?"

"This is a treasure from the ruins, at least 20 silver coins..." the old man said slyly.

"What is this book for?"

"Hmm, it seems to be a skill book on how to use this calculating tool called an abacus!" The old man wasn't sure. He had read the book, but he couldn't understand the Hua Script inside. He had even asked someone who knew a little bit of Hua Script, but that person could only recognize some simple numbers in the book, like "three times three, two times two, five times five, six times six," all sorts of inexplicable things...

"What's the use of this? To help me count sheep and fall asleep?"

"Well, if you want it, I can give you a discount. 16 silver coins, not a coin less!" The old man said with feigned distress.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? This book has less than 16 pages in total, not enough paper to wipe my backside even once when I poop. You want 16 silver coins? I'm only asking because the book looks a bit strange." Zhang Tie angrily threw the book down. Even if he hadn't eaten pork, he had seen pigs walk. In this market, if you didn't haggle rudely, people would usually treat you like a fat sheep and rip you off.

"Then you make an offer?"

"80 copper coins!"

"80 copper coins?" The old man jumped up as if his tail had been stepped on. "Kid, this is from the ruins. No, at least 10 silver coins!"

"What damn ruins? Trying to fool a child? Within a thousand miles of Black Flame City, where are there any ruins? Even if there were, they would have been looted long ago. It wouldn't be your turn. It's 80 copper coins!"

"9 silver coins, not a coin less!"

"Alright, seeing as you're so old, I'll be filial and respectful. I'll add ten more copper coins. 90 copper coins!"

"90 copper coins?" The old man shrieked like a pig being slaughtered. "That's not even my cost price!"

"Then one silver coin!"

"Seven!" The old man gritted his teeth...

After two minutes of haggling until his throat was dry, Zhang Tie stood up directly and left without looking back. Five steps later, the old man's furious voice came from behind him, "Don't go! It's as you said, four silver coins, I'll sell it to you!"

A faint smile appeared on Zhang Tie's lips. These people who didn't understand Hua Script naturally couldn't read the title of the book. Zhang Tie had been stunned the moment he saw it—Abacus Mental Calculation. This book had an incredibly impressive name. Zhang Tie had casually flipped through it and found that it described a mental calculation method related to the abacus, which was quite special. So, he bought the book...

On the way home, Zhang Tie's stomach was rumbling, but clutching the book in his pocket, he felt content. In this era, knowledge was more expensive than many people could imagine. Any skill or knowledge that wasn't the common fare learned in school was unique and precious. Zhang Tie remembered that when he first became an apprentice at the general store, Tang De had observed him for over three months before producing that strange thing called an abacus and teaching him how to use it, acting as if Zhang Tie was getting a great deal. And in Black Flame City, as far as Zhang Tie had observed, very few people knew how to use an abacus; at least, he hadn't seen anyone else use one. Ordinary calculations were done on paper, and for more advanced needs, he heard that there were mechanical hand-crank calculators in the exchanges and trading companies. So, the abacus skill was somewhat niche. But even a niche skill wasn't something everyone could learn if they wanted to. When Zhang Tie had casually flipped through Abacus Mental Calculation earlier, the moment he saw the abacus pattern and the incantation on the title page, he knew the book's value. Overall, the book might not be considered extremely precious, but for the price of four silver coins, acquiring such a skill, even if its value couldn't be realized immediately, Zhang Tie felt it was worth it. Besides, those four silver coins weren't his to begin with.

"More skills don't weigh you down," his father often said.

As a child, his parents had forced him to learn Hua Script, hitting his hands with a bamboo ruler. It took ten years to memorize all the characters in a Hua Script dictionary that would give anyone a headache. This was Zhang Tie's darkest childhood experience. After more than a decade, Zhang Tie found that he had finally used the Hua Script he had learned in reality, picking up a small bargain, so he felt a little smug.

As for the old man claiming the book came from the ruins, Zhang Tie wouldn't believe it for anything. Items from ruins were at least a thousand years old. This book, by all appearances, didn't look like it was from 1000 years ago. However, under the abacus pattern on the pages, he could faintly see a few words that were almost blurred: "Recommended extracurricular reading for elementary school students." Zhang Tie, who was about to enter society, couldn't even access this kind of knowledge. What kind of elementary school students were so amazing? Extracurricular reading, for crying out loud! Comparing oneself to others was enough to drive one mad!

After inexplicably getting beaten up, exchanging the money he had scrounged for a book, joining the Airplane Brotherhood, and greatly embarrassing himself in front of Teacher Daina...

On the way home, assessing his efforts and gains for the day, Zhang Tie himself didn't know if he had profited or lost...

Zhang Tie's home was in the commoner's residential area north of Black Flame City. If the Upper East District of Black Flame City was the playground for the rich, then the northern district was the haven for all the law-abiding workers and small citizens of Black Flame City. Compared to the Upper East District, the streets in the northern district were not as beautiful, but they were relatively clean, and the public security was decent. The rows of plane trees along the streets brought a warm, everyday atmosphere. Decades of hard work by his parents had only earned them a two-story wooden house of less than 100 square meters, with a backyard, located by the community street. They ran a street-facing rice wine shop downstairs, while his father worked in the factory and his mother managed the shop. The business was neither hot nor cold, with customers mainly being residents and neighbors from the surrounding community. The profit was meager, barely covering household expenses.

When Zhang Tie returned home, it was already around nine in the evening. His parents were not home; they had likely gone to church again. The rice wine shop was closed. The food left for him was still warming in the pot. Dinner was not lavish: a pot of mixed vegetable soup, a bowl of cured meat stewed with broad beans, and a large bowl of heaping white rice were all that was served. Floating in the cured meat and broad bean stew were a few pieces of meat the size of broad beans. Zhang Tie knew that his parents had saved them for him. In fact, they always held back, saying they didn't like meat and always left it for him. Eating the unpretentious dinner, Zhang Tie's nose inexplicably stung. He secretly vowed that once he earned money, he would ensure his father and mother could eat meat every day until they were full.

After hastily finishing his meal and cleaning the kitchen, Zhang Tie, with a weary body, went upstairs. On the second floor, his brother's room was closed, but Zhang Tie could hear rhythmic banging sounds and suppressed gasps coming from within. This was not the first time; Zhang Tie naturally knew what was happening in the room. Softening his footsteps, he walked a few more steps down the hallway. Near the end of the hallway, he reached for a rope on the wall. With a slight pull, a wooden board on the floor at the end of the hallway slid open, revealing stairs on the other side leading directly to the small attic above.

Perhaps because the pulley had not been oiled for several days, the stairs made a considerable creaking sound as they descended. The banging from his brother's room quieted for a few seconds. Before Zhang Tie could even ascend, the banging intensified.

Zhang Tie climbed the stairs. Upon reaching the attic, he pulled the stairs back up, and the floorboard slid back into place. This small attic with its triangular roof was Zhang Tie's little nest.

The house was not large to begin with, and with the rice wine shop downstairs, there was even less living space. Zhang Tie had to live in the attic. Nearly half of the already small attic was partitioned off with sheet metal and wooden boards to store household sundries. Zhang Tie's nest could barely fit a bed, a desk, and a small wardrobe. The space between these pieces of furniture was only enough for two people to pass each other without crowding. The furniture in the nest was old, much of the paint had faded or peeled off. These items were all second-hand goods his family had found for Zhang Tie, costing less than two silver coins in total.

A room less than 8 square meters, a few pieces of second-hand furniture – this was the entirety of 15-year-old Zhang Tie's world...