The Glass Marbles Trap
After breakfast, Fa Yinge headed straight for the shop where the boy worked. On his way, he passed a toy shop and decided to step inside. He pulled out a silver coin and bought a small bag of gleaming glass marbles. He had seen rich kids playing with such marbles before, but when he was a child, he had to make do with small clay balls he crafted himself. This purchase, he thought, was a way to fulfill an old childhood wish.
When he arrived at the shop, Fa Yinge casually walked inside. There were no customers at the moment, and the boy was busy hanging a tapestry on the wall while the hunchbacked assistant manager kept a close, watchful eye on him. Fa Yinge, careful not to draw attention to himself, pretended to be admiring the expensive goods on display.
After a short while, three or four customers entered the shop, apparently looking to make a purchase. The assistant manager immediately moved to assist them, leaving the boy to help out. Seizing this opportunity, Fa Yinge discreetly pulled three glass marbles from his pocket and carefully placed them under a ceramic plate. Then he quietly exited the shop.
For Fa Yinge, the next step was to wait. Although he knew this was a clumsy plan and couldn't predict exactly when the expensive plate might fall and break, or even if the boy would be the one to get blamed, he was confident it was the best approach available.
Waiting was a skill Fa Yinge had mastered as a golden finger, often having to bide his time for the perfect opportunity. He settled on a bench in a small garden across from the shop, his eyes never leaving the storefront.
As time passed, Fa Yinge continued to watch the shop. In Southport, as long as you had money, there was no such thing as boredom. Street vendors with carts full of snacks and trinkets regularly passed by, offering their wares. Fa Yinge spent a few silver coins on various items to pass the time and also bought some snacks, though by the end, his stomach was starting to protest from all the indulgence.
As the sun climbed higher and the streets became busier, Fa Yinge knew the shop was entering its busiest time of the day. Suddenly, the sound of a crash echoed from inside the shop. Fa Yinge's glass marbles had finally done their work.
Almost immediately, angry shouting erupted from within the shop. "You worthless fool! You've broken a priceless piece of porcelain! You'll have to pay for it all, every last bit! You'll never be able to pay it off, not even if you work for the rest of your life!"
Before Fa Yinge could hear more, the shop's door burst open, and the boy ran out, tears streaming down his face as he fled down the street. Behind him, the assistant manager stormed out, shaking his fists in rage and yelling, "Run all you want! I'll report you to the authorities! They'll lock you up, and you'll hang for this!"
Seeing his plan unfold successfully, Fa Yinge quickly gathered up the trinkets he had bought, bundled them up, and hurried after the boy.
He followed the boy at a safe distance, making sure not to lose sight of him as he darted through the crowded streets. Fa Yinge guessed that the boy, with nowhere else to go, would likely head home—a natural response when someone is in trouble.
Sure enough, it wasn't long before Fa Yinge spotted the boy walking slowly, tears still streaming down his face. He seemed lost, unsure of what to do next. Fa Yinge quickened his pace and gently tapped the boy on the shoulder. The boy jumped in fright, his pale, tear-streaked face tightening in fear.
Fa Yinge could tell the boy was terrified. To get the boy to trust him and follow his lead, Fa Yinge decided to frighten him further. "I saw you running out of that shop," he said. "What did you do? I saw that man call the watchmen right after you ran off. They brought several officers with them. What did you steal? If you stole something, we should go to the watchmen right now. I could get a reward, you know—one-fifth of what was stolen."
"No, no! I didn't steal anything! Please, I beg you, let me go!" the boy pleaded, his tears flowing again.
Fa Yinge watched the boy, finding his tears amusing. It had been so long since he had cried himself; by the time he was the boy's age, he had long forgotten how to cry. Normally, he would have mocked someone for crying, but now he needed to calm the boy down.
"If you didn't steal anything, then there's no point in turning you in—I wouldn't get any reward. What a shame," Fa Yinge said, carefully gauging the boy's reaction.
Hearing that he wouldn't be handed over to the watchmen, the boy seemed to relax a little. Fa Yinge knew this was the moment to reel him in. "But you know," he continued, "it's only a matter of time before they catch you. I heard that man telling the watchmen you'd probably run home. They're going to be waiting there to arrest you."
"What should I do? What should I do?" the boy muttered in despair, his voice trembling with fear.
Seeing the boy on the verge of tears again, Fa Yinge seized the moment. "Why don't you hide somewhere for a while until things calm down?"
"But I have nowhere to go," the boy whimpered, finally breaking down again.
"Do you know how to write? Can you do arithmetic? If you do, I could take you to work for my boss," Fa Yinge offered.
"Yes, I can write, even in fancy script! I'm the one who copies all the price lists at the shop. And I'm good at math, too—I can even calculate fractions and decimals. I've memorized pi, and I can make profit analysis tables!" the boy exclaimed, desperately trying to prove his worth.
Fa Yinge had no idea what the boy was talking about when he mentioned fancy script and pi. His education was limited to what the old man had taught him—enough to read notices, do basic arithmetic, and keep track of the earnings from his golden fingers. The boy's knowledge was far beyond anything Fa Yinge had ever encountered, but that didn't matter to him.
"Not bad, not bad. You might be useful," Fa Yinge said, nodding. "But I still have some business to take care of. I'm heading back to Laier this evening. If you want to come with me, wait for me at the stagecoach stop. I'll meet you there at sunset."
He patted the boy on the shoulder and added, "Don't worry. Once we're in Laier, everything will be fine."
"But what if Aunt Betty worries? I can't go home, but I'm afraid she'll be concerned…" the boy trailed off, his anxiety returning.
"Who's at home?" Fa Yinge asked, already knowing the answer but playing along.
"Aunt Betty—she's not really my aunt, but we're as close as family," the boy explained.
"In that case, after I finish my business, I can deliver a message for you. Just give me the address," Fa Yinge offered.
The boy hesitated, then gave Fa Yinge detailed directions to his home, even explaining how to get there. Fa Yinge nodded, promising to deliver the message.
After leaving the boy, Fa Yinge slipped down a side alley, made a wide circle, and returned to his original position. He continued to follow the boy from a distance, watching his every move. The boy was clearly unsure of what to do, pacing back and forth, taking a few steps toward his home before hesitating and stepping back.
After a long while, the boy finally made up his mind and began walking toward the stagecoach stop on the outskirts of town.
Seeing this, Fa Yinge breathed a sigh of relief. He followed the boy to the stagecoach waiting area, where the boy sat down on a sloped embankment, his head bowed in deep thought. Fa Yinge felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing his plan was coming together.
He turned and walked back toward the center of town. With several hours until sunset, he had plenty of time to enjoy the city. But first, he decided to check back at the shop.
Inside, an elderly man with a head of white hair was inspecting the scene, accompanied by a tall, slender young man. The portly shopkeeper and the hunchbacked assistant manager stood nearby, both looking anxious and respectful. A few curious onlookers had gathered as well, drawn by the commotion. The young man picked up one of the glass marbles from the shattered porcelain and handed it to the elder for inspection.
"It seems someone deliberately caused this," the elder sighed.