Mr. Bao and his son: Only use Stankang for hair oil

Chapter 76: Become a master and swallow "blade"

An old man and a young man were walking on the lively "Pedestrian Street" in the center of the city, weaving in and out of the crowds of people.

Lao Bao was wearing cloth shoes with almost worn-out soles, and he was still a little uncomfortable walking on the flat blue brick pavement in the center of the city.

Every time he took a step, the soles of his shoes and the ground made a "clicking" sound. Lao Bao had to spend some effort to stabilize his body. His big toe pressed against the edge of the shoe, which made him feel a little sore.

Bao Guowei was wearing hard-soled black leather shoes, which made a clicking sound when he stepped on the hard road. He was holding several thick books in his hands and was thinking about why Lao Bao just said such words.

The two of them crossed the shadows cast by several tall buildings and walked a hundred steps in a trance amidst the noise.

The gentle sunshine shone on Lao Bao's body, but it was like heat scorching his body, causing him to sweat on his forehead and make his scalp itchy.

The weather seemed a little hot today, so his cotton clothes were soaked with sweat.

Lao Bao lowered his head, still holding a few books under his arms. His originally stooped back became even lower.

He blamed himself very much, saying "irrelevant" before was too stupid.

Maybe it not only hurts Bao Guowei's heart, but also teaches Bao Guowei to be embarrassed in front of his classmates...

If Jiao Guowei loses someone in school - he might as well die...

At this time, a familiar voice came from the surrounding hustle and bustle:

"...I will make you the master!"

Lao Bao's mind was still a little confused. When he figured out what he meant, his head felt like someone had clamped it with a big iron pliers, and his heart began to beat outside.

He turned his head sideways, trying to figure out whether he had just heard something wrong. Shouldn't Guowei blame himself?

"Guowei, what did you say?"

"I said, I want you to be the master!"

Lao Bao watched Bao Guowei say these words seriously - these words seemed familiar.

In a daze, Lao Bao felt that Bao Guowei's face was a little blurry - as if he had become the same as when he was a child.

I still remember this is what Guowei said when he was a child - as Lao Bao gets older, he often forgets things easily. What he needs to do in front of him is forgotten in the back. Even if it is what he is thinking about in his mind, he may forget it in the next second. Unclear.

But this sentence alone remained fresh in his memory.

That was when Cuilian was still alive. She spent all the savings she had saved for more than ten years and finally bought an old and small house in the south of the city, but she had to tidy it up and take care of it so that people could live in it.

Bao Guowei, who was only five years old at the time, wore a small black hood on his head and a small black cotton-padded coat. His face was chubby and he had the air of a young master.

He happily ate a bunch of candied haws and ran into his arms.

So the father named Bao Zheng smiled and said to himself when he saw the child in his arms:

"When I grow up, I will teach you to be a master."

Bao Zheng smiled from ear to ear and didn't take it seriously. After getting off the ground, the child staggered away.

Later, Cuilian died, his savings were gone, and Guowei gradually grew up.

He has grown from his waist to be taller than himself, but he has become a little impatient and impatient with himself, and an expression of disgust can often be seen on his face.

From then on, Lao Bao always felt bitter in his heart, but he always felt that he was sorry for his son and could not even save his mother. When he grew up, he would not have a mother, and it would be as miserable as if he was born a servant.

So he always endured all this silently. No matter what Bao Guowei did, he felt that he owed him this.

But now, Bao Guowei has finally become less like Bao Guowei and more like Bao Guowei - this face gradually overlaps with that of his childhood.

Lao Bao felt a little absent-minded, staggered on his feet, and felt a little sour in his heart: "Guowei, I don't need to be a master. As long as you can live a good and safe life, as long as you live a good life, I can do anything. No matter what! I can do anything."

Bao Guowei put his hands in the pockets of his black vest and continued walking forward with "ta-da" steps. This posture was like a determined "pioneer".

The only shortcoming was that a red maple leaf fell from the tree and blew on Bao Guowei's head with a breeze. This made him a little embarrassed and pretended to be a failure.

After reaching out his hand to move the maple leaf away from his head, Bao Guowei asked Lao Bao who was following behind him without looking back:

"Dad, do you want to open a tea stall or a restaurant?"

"what?"

"I said, do you want to open a tea stall or a restaurant? Or some other store?"

After hearing what Bao Guowei said, Lao Bao thought about it seriously, and what he said made Bao Guowei a little stunned - "I want to open a restaurant and make ham and egg fried rice for you every day."

……

People with spare money like to shop or have fun in the city. There is a bustling crowd in front of them, crowded and crowded.

In the center of the crowd was a teenage boy standing upside down on a wooden stake.

Bao Guowei had seen this scene when he came here, but he didn't expect that the child had persisted until now.

He raised his head, with more than a dozen sea bowls on his head. The bowls stacked on his head were already higher than his body. Not only was his neck trembling, but his arms were also trembling.

The child was struggling to support himself on the wooden fork, his face was very ugly, and sweat was dripping from his chin. Seeing this funny appearance, the crowd watching the vaudeville performance burst into laughter, and some people began to invest money in the field.

A man wearing a white turban next to him took out another big bowl and put it on top. The onlookers kept throwing small coins one cent after another, shouting "one more".

"Crack!"

The porcelain piece on the child's head fell to the bluestone floor. As soon as it came into contact with the ground, it shattered into pieces with a crisp sound, and white "blades" appeared on the ground.

Seeing this scene, the child's face turned pale and there was some fear in his eyes. He still maintained his handstand position on the wooden stake.

Holding on to his sore and numb arms, he looked at his master - the master was facing the crowd, clasping his fists and cupping his hands, with a smile on his face.

"Swallow it! Swallow it!"

There was a man in a luxurious suit and a top hat who smiled, raised the silver dollar in his hand, and gave orders to the child's master.

According to the rules of the martial arts world, if the bowl you are holding falls, you will eat the broken pottery pieces. This show is called swallowing a knife. If there is no such rule, what is the point of just asking a child to stand upside down and hold a bowl weighing more than ten or twenty pounds? head?
Can you make money just by performing some talents?There is no such truth in this world.

Luxurious rickshaws were taking distinguished guests around, small vendors were selling on the streets, and roadside restaurants had launched their morning dishes, mostly selling preserved egg and lean meat porridge, rather than rice soup from the south of the city.

Someone was pushing an iron cart with a few iron rods on it, "cracking" and burning a few firewood to smoke and grill the meat skewers, and sprinkle with aromatic sauces as a bait to attract customers.

"Sir, a bowl of lean meat porridge for [-] cents."

A bowl of porridge costs [-] cents, and it will soon become several portions. Most of it will be paid in taxes, and one portion will be given to local gangsters, but you can still make some money.

"Have a bowl."

Someone ordered a bowl of expensive meat porridge, and the vendor scooped out the white rice porridge from a large wooden frame with a flattering smile. The black preserved eggs and brown pork floating on it exuded an attractive aroma.

No matter where you are, there are people making a living.

Fortunately, Lao Bao and Bao Guowei's life is much better than theirs after all, and it will get better in the future.

(End of this chapter)