60: Chapter 60 Uncle Wang's Scrap Truck

The morning mist in the Old neighborhood was wrapped in the scent of rust. Uncle Wang's junk cart sat crookedly under the locust tree, like an old ox that had been unyoked from its plow.

The old appliances in the cart were piled into a small mountain. A washing machine drum gaped with a dark, hollow opening, and a refrigerator door swung on its hinges. Sunlight pierced through the mist, casting mottled patches of light onto the metal shells, like a handful of scattered gold fragments.

Uncle Wang crouched beside the cart, tying up old circuit boards, but his mind was calculating—perhaps hidden within this pile of junk were parts that Jie-zi could use.

The old TV he'd collected the other day still looked in decent shape, its picture tube appearing quite sturdy; it would be a shame to throw it away.

He always felt that these discarded items were like the moth-eaten old locust tree at the end of the alley; they might look withered, but they might still hold a breath of Qi inside.

Grease that could never be washed away was embedded in the old man's fingernails. The brim of his blue cloth cap was pulled low, revealing a patch of graying stubble, and the veins on the back of his hands, which were binding the iron wire, knotted like the roots of an ancient tree.

"Jie-zi, can you give me a hand?" He gestured toward the cart with his chin, his voice carrying a hint of imperceptible hesitation—the boy had a keen eye for work and could assess things accurately; perhaps he really could make this TV light up again.

"The picture tube on this old TV is loose. Could you take a look and see if it can be fixed?"

Chen Jie, carrying his canvas backpack, passed by and climbed onto the cart, the straps of his backpack digging painfully into his shoulders.

A thick layer of dust had accumulated on the glass shell of the picture tube. The moment he reached out to touch it, the jade stone in his backpack suddenly vibrated gently—not with heat, but with a faint, fine hum that crawled up his spine.

In the faint light from the patterns on the jade stone, the solder joints on the tube socket revealed a layer of pale gray, resembling wood eaten by insects. The copper foil of one of the solder joints had already peeled back, exposing the blackened wire core underneath.

"The solder joint is rusted," he said, scraping the copper foil with his fingernail. Rust fell in a flurry onto his work pants. "It just needs to be re-soldered, but this picture tube is severely aged; even if it's fixed, it won't last more than a few days."

Uncle Wang breathed a sigh of relief, though he deliberately feigned regret on his face. "That's true, it's an old object; just being able to watch it for a few more days makes it worth it."

In truth, he had already expected the result, but he still wanted Chen Jie to take a look—the focus the boy had when fixing things was even more serious than the old men staring at a chessboard, and watching him was reassuring.

He pulled a dented tin box from under the cart seat, which contained half a box of solder wire. "I ran into a young man when collecting junk the other day who said it was a shame to throw this TV away and insisted I let you take a look—young people these days are more sentimental than an old junk collector like me."

Chen Jie didn't respond, simply pulling a soldering iron from his backpack.

The humming of the jade stone had stopped at some point, and its surface was as cold as a block of ice.

He gazed at the old items in the cart—an electronic organ missing its strings, an electric fan with a broken leg, a calculator with a cracked screen—and suddenly remembered what Old Zhou had said about "time dust." Perhaps all these abandoned things were wrapped in a layer of invisible dust, hiding the traces of having been used.

"Jie-zi, here's a good one." Uncle Wang suddenly leaned over, holding up a palm-sized circuit board. On the board, where the green paint had peeled away, the copper foil traces looked like a coiled little snake. He wondered if this pattern might remind Chen Jie of something—the last time he repaired a radio, he had studied a similar board for a long time.

"Look at these traces; don't they look a bit like the ones on your jade stone?"

The moment Chen Jie's gaze fell on the circuit board, the jade stone in his backpack began to vibrate again, this time with a hint of urgency.

At the pins of a black chip on the board, a faint wisp of green light seeped out, traveling along the copper traces and swirling at the break—it was a circuit that had been manually severed, the cut clean, as if deliberately snipped by scissors.

He suddenly understood: the jade stone wasn't "seeing" whether the items were good or bad; it was "recognizing" traces that held hidden intentions—just like clues deliberately left by someone, waiting to be understood.

"It's just an ordinary circuit board." He brought the soldering iron to the solder joint, and the blue smoke from the melting solder carried the scent of pine resin. "Uncle Wang, do you collect these old things just to take them apart and sell the parts?"

Uncle Wang laughed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bunching up like a chrysanthemum—the boy had finally asked.

He pointed to a corner of the cart, where a stack of old books tied with hemp rope was piled up, the pages yellowed and brittle. "Grandma Zhang said there were opera scripts in these books and asked me to save them for her to paste on her windows—old things, you see, always have some use." He paused, thinking this was just the right thing to say to Chen Jie. "Just like that jade stone of yours; it may look unremarkable, but it might just be hiding some great ability."

When Chen Jie finished soldering the last joint, the morning sun just happened to pierce through the mist.

He jumped down from the cart, his canvas backpack swaying gently behind him. The coolness of the jade stone seeped through the fabric, like a reminder left unspoken, gently touching Chen Jie's skin.

He felt that coolness, his thoughts gradually drifting away.

In the distance, the enticing aroma of meat wafted from Wang Lei's braised food stall, intertwining with the scent of rust from the junk cart, winding together in the wind into a unique and grounded scent.

This scent reminded Chen Jie of life in this Old neighborhood; although it seemed chaotic and disorganized, it was full of the warmth of human life.

"Where should I put the fixed TV?" Chen Jie thought to himself as he walked toward the alley entrance.

Suddenly, he heard Uncle Wang calling out from behind him: "Put it by the bench! Let the old men playing chess have some fun—oh, and next time I collect something rare, I'll come looking for you again!"

Chen Jie didn't look back, just touched the jade stone in his backpack, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

He knew that those abandoned old items, those details ignored by people, actually all hid stories of their own.

Just like the days in this Old neighborhood, although they seemed ordinary and unremarkable, they lived on with zest amidst the jolting of the junk cart and the blue smoke of the solder.

Chen Jie continued walking, his steps light and firm.

He knew that there were still many stories in this Old neighborhood waiting for him to discover, and he was willing to record them in his own way, so that they would no longer be forgotten.