130: Chapter 130 Something's Going Wrong

Seeing that Qian Dashan was offering thanks while his expression still betrayed a hint of hesitation, Chen Sheng concluded, "Anyway, if you believe me, go and look for a recycling center. If you can't find one, just ask an acquaintance to help you search for the location online when you get home. It won't take much effort, in any case."

Without waiting for Qian Dashan to speak, Chen Sheng waved his hand. "Alright! I've said what I needed to say. This place isn't far from the recycling station, and it won't be good if the boss comes out and sees us, so I won't stay any longer."

Chen Sheng hurried back to his car, drove away quickly, and headed straight for "A Small Shop Here".

Left behind, Qian Dashan stared at the spot where the vehicle had disappeared for quite a while. When he finally came to his senses, a bitter smile surfaced on his face. He shook his head, limped back onto his tricycle, and rode slowly toward the recycling station.

Just then, the owner of the recycling station walked out, still chattering away on his phone. As Qian Dashan's tricycle approached, the owner cast a contemptuous, disdainful glance at the back of the cart, but then his gaze locked onto the pile of thermocouples in the corner.

A flash of wild joy instantly crept across his face, only to vanish just as quickly. After muttering a few words into the phone, he hung up and greeted the approaching Qian Dashan in a casual tone, "Tell me, Old Man Qian, where did you scrounge up this pile of bottles and cans? The price has dropped this time; it's fifteen cents."

Qian Dashan rode his tricycle up to the owner. Seeing that the price of scrap had dropped again, he offered a humble smile and asked anxiously, "Wasn't it eighteen cents just two days ago? Why has it dropped to fifteen cents today?"

"You said it yourself, that was two days ago. The market is like that—one price today, another tomorrow. It's fifteen cents. If you want to sell, sell it; if you don't, take it back and bring it back whenever the price goes up."

Just then, the owner pointed seemingly casually at the pile of thermocouples in the corner of the cart. "Actually, iron and steel have gone up a bit these days. I could give you two yuan and ten cents for those, but I see a lot of impurities in that pile. It'll take time to process, so I can only offer one yuan and seventy cents."

"One seventy." Qian Dashan repeated subconsciously, and the smile on his face relaxed quite a bit. Although it was only one seventy, it was still twenty cents higher than usual.

But thinking about how the plastic price had dropped by three cents, Qian Dashan carefully tried to bargain. "Boss, look, I hauled this from so far away. How about you still take the bottles at eighteen cents?"

"Fifteen cents at most. That's the highest price. Go ask around; there isn't a single place that will offer you more than I do," the owner said confidently.

His confidence didn't stem from the price itself, but from the certainty that Qian Dashan wouldn't go anywhere else to compare prices.

There wasn't another recycling station within a five-kilometer radius of his.

With Qian Dashan's bad leg, there was absolutely no way he would ride another seven or eight kilometers to another recycling station just to compare prices.

Sure enough, as soon as the owner said that, Qian Dashan clearly began to hesitate.

Seeing this, the owner decided to turn up the heat. "If you want to sell, hurry up. A truck is coming soon, and I'll be busy loading it. I won't have time to deal with you for a while."

"I..." Qian Dashan pointed at the thermocouples and said hesitantly, "Boss, can you raise the price on this? Someone told me it's a thermocouple, and that it has something called platinum-rhodium wire inside. It's supposed to be really valuable."

"What thermocouple?" The owner's voice involuntarily rose an octave, and he frowned. "Who told you this thing is a thermocouple?"

Qian Dashan, stared down by the owner, couldn't help but shrink his neck. "A young man told me just a moment ago."

"Heh," the owner sneered. "You said it yourself—a young man. What the hell do young people know? Do you even know what a thermocouple is? I've never even heard of it. Platinum-rhodium wire? More like ghost-rhodium wire!"

At that moment, however, the owner was mentally cursing the young man Qian Dashan had mentioned, all the way back to his eighteenth generation of ancestors.

Qian Dashan's expression shifted repeatedly, but in the end, he still said, "Boss, can you add a little more?"

The owner waved his hand impatiently. "Forget it, forget it. Seeing as you rode all the way here, it wasn't easy. I'll add ten cents to that—I'll give you one eighty."

"This..." Qian Dashan pulled out his leaf tobacco, which was down to the butt, lit it, and took a few deep drags. Just as the owner was about to lose patience, he said, "Boss, I think I'll go ask around elsewhere."

"What?" The owner raised an eyebrow, eyes widening in anger. "Hey, Old Man Qian, you've been asking me for ages, and now you're not selling? Are you messing with me?"

"Your price is just too low." As he spoke, Qian Dashan had already staggered toward his cart.

Although the owner was anxious, he didn't stop Qian Dashan. It wasn't until Qian Dashan climbed onto his tricycle and began to pedal that the owner shouted in a tone full of condescending charity, "Forget it, forget it. Since you're so pathetic, I'll give you one ninety for the scrap metal and seventeen cents for the bottles. That's good enough, right?"

He didn't believe the old man wouldn't be tempted by such a high price.

However, while Qian Dashan was indeed tempted, he engaged the auxiliary braking device on his tricycle, and the vehicle, which had already been moving at a snail's pace, immediately slowed to a crawl.

"Hey, hey, hey!" The owner panicked, rushed over, and grabbed the tricycle. "What is wrong with you, old man? Didn't you hear me say I'd give you one ninety for those scrap metal parts and add twenty cents to the bottles? Why are you running off?"

"Boss, I feel like your prices are still a bit low. I want to go ask around elsewhere, and if it seems right, I'll come back."

"Hey!" the owner retorted angrily. "You old man, I felt sorry for you and offered you a high price, and you don't even appreciate it? Let me tell you, if you leave now, I won't offer you this price when you come back. I'm putting that on the table."

The owner released his grip on the tricycle, took a step back, and crossed his arms, acting as if he was perfectly content to let Qian Dashan leave.

Qian Dashan hesitated, but just when the owner thought he had finally succeeded, Qian Dashan began pedaling the tricycle again. "Boss, I'm still going to go look elsewhere."

"Damn it!" The owner's calm and composed expression vanished instantly. He grabbed the tricycle again. "What do you think you're doing? You're not satisfied with this price? Tell me yourself, how much do you want?"

"Actually, Boss, I'm not selling." This time, Qian Dashan's tone was very firm.

Qian Dashan wasn't highly educated, and one could even say he couldn't keep up with the times, but decades of life experience had taught him one thing: when things are abnormal, there must be something fishy.

In the past, when he sold scrap, no matter which recycling station he went to, no matter how much he pleaded, the owners wouldn't raise the price by even a penny. When the final total was calculated, they would often even round down the change.

But this time, before he had even said much, the owner had taken the initiative to raise the price—several times over—and had even tried to stop him from leaving.

These abnormal actions caused the scale in his heart to unconsciously tip in favor of the stranger who had stopped him earlier.

Perhaps the young man hadn't lied to him; maybe there really was platinum-rhodium wire inside the thermocouples in his cart, and that wire really was very valuable.

"You're messing with me! I've been talking to you for ages, and now you're just saying you won't sell?" The owner raised his fist, his expression turning ferocious. "Believe it or not, I'll smash your cart today!"

Qian Dashan couldn't help but shrink his neck, but his tone remained firm. "I won't sell even if you smash my cart!"

"Hey! You really don't respond to soft or hard tactics, do you?" The owner let go of the tricycle, grabbed Qian Dashan by the collar, and made a move as if to strike.

Of course, he wasn't stupid. He was just putting on a show to scare Qian Dashan; after all, it was broad daylight, and there were people around watching.

If he threw that punch and the scrawny old man in front of him collapsed to the ground, everyone watching would become a witness.

The two stood in a stalemate for about a minute. Seeing that Qian Dashan still wouldn't budge, the owner let go in a fit of rage and waved his hand. "Damn it, bad luck! Get lost, get lost! If you don't sell today, don't ever come back!"

Qian Dashan hesitated for a moment, then pedaled his tricycle away without a word.

The owner stood there, watching Qian Dashan's tricycle gradually pull away until it disappeared from sight. His expression shifting uncertainly, he spat on the ground. "Damn it! There's definitely some lowlife stirring up trouble."