Old Wang readily agreed, delighted.
He had been a swordsmith his whole life and now ran a factory forging swords, yet he had never truly bestowed a sword upon anyone.
Now, under his supervision and hammer, a fine sword had been forged.
And since I was going to use such a sword to slay demons and eliminate evil, he naturally wanted to follow the traditional sword-bestowing rites of ancient swordsmiths.
"Xiao Jiang, have a seat. I'll get the things."
With that, Old Wang began rummaging through boxes and cabinets.
From a large cabinet in his office, he took out a somewhat aged wooden box.
The box was very old, its paint faded and peeling.
He brought the box over and said to me:
"This box was given to me by my master when I was an apprentice. Inside is a hammer, passed down through our line of blacksmiths."
As he spoke, he opened the small wooden box.
Sure enough, there was a small iron hammer inside.
The hammer had become misshapen. It was clear that it had been used for a very, very long time.
Beside it was the traditional character for "iron."
He took out the hammer and placed it directly on his office desk.
Then, from another drawer in the cabinet, he took out long incense and yellow paper.
Old Wang said to me:
"We make our living by forging iron. Now that I've opened a factory, we've gained a certain degree of influence and scale.
But I haven't forgotten my roots. On the first and fifteenth of every lunar month, I burn a stick of incense, so I keep these things in the office."
I stood to the side watching and nodded slightly.
In every trade, as long as it had some sort of heritage, many still