Clutching at Buddha's Feet at the Last Moment
Scribe Hui hurriedly took a small sip of his drink. "I used to be a city patrolman. I started when I was seventeen and did it for five years. Later, Brother Hua and Sister Yun saw that I was honest, so they took me in to run errands for them."
"City Patrolman" is a term used by Hong Kong people to refer to someone who travels between the Mainland and Hong Kong, making a living by delivering letters, money, or small items. They are similar to the couriers of the courier companies in Song Tianyao's previous life. The difference is that the City Patrolman does not have a company; he handles everything from receiving and transporting packages to delivery by himself.
In the early days of Britain occupation of Hong Kong, the city patrol horse was very popular. Later, with the establishment of Hong Kong Post, it gradually declined. However, even today in Hong Kong, many elderly people still do not trust postal delivery and will go to great lengths to find a city patrol horse to entrust them to send their letters or money back to their hometown.
A person who can serve as a patrolman for five years must be honest and reliable. Those with ulterior motives often secretly pocket valuables entrusted to them, and their reputation will be ruined in no time, and they will never receive any more commissions.
Perhaps it was because Song Tianyao didn't seem as domineering as usual tonight, that his Scribe Hui, who was sitting next to him, relaxed a little. Seeing that Song Tianyao was very curious about the patrol horses, Hui picked out some interesting stories from the past to talk about.
Song Tianyao sipped his wine quietly, listening attentively until Scribe Hui finished telling an amusing story. Suddenly, Song Tianyao interrupted, asking him a question:
Have you ever taken a sweet medicine used to treat worms?
Still reeling from Song Tianyao's question Scribe Hui, was momentarily stunned. A few seconds later, he reacted. "Deworming medicine? What worms? I get it, Ganji Powder, right? Sweet? Even with sugar, it's still astringent. I got it from the pharmacy when I had a stomachache, took it for three days, and finally passed a dead worm. But even after the worm was out, my stomach still hurt. It didn't work. What's wrong? Secretary Song, do you have a stomachache?"
Song Tianyao shook his head, finished the last beer in the bottle, stood up on the balcony, stretched, and looked up at the starry sky. "You know, if we make a pesticide for everyone to use, wouldn't that be considered doing charity? And would we even make any money from it?"
"I have no idea what Secretary Song is talking about?" Scribe Hui, standing up next to Song Tianyao, scratched his head and said awkwardly.
Song Tianyao withdrew his gaze, patted the other person's shoulder, smiled freely, picked up the empty wine bottle, and walked towards the escalator, saying cheerfully in Cantonese: "I've rolled up my books and boarded a fishing boat, donned a straw raincoat and hat, and taken up a fishing rod. I row towards the depths of the blue waves, past several rapids. I'm no longer a fisherman as before, for the times have obscured the virtuous. Therefore, this life is in my own hands, not in the hands of fate."
Chapter 87 Last-Minute Cramming
On his first night in his new home, Song Tianyao was very uncomfortable. Although the room was much larger, the bed he was sleeping in was still the same one he had slept in in the attic of the Squatter Area. This made him feel very uncomfortable, as he had just gotten used to the soft, large bed in the Dulles Hotel room the previous two nights. So, he sat up in bed before dawn.
He got out of bed and opened the bedroom window to let in some fresh air. There was a bowl of chilled tea on the windowsill, which Zhao Meizhen had specially brewed and left to cool down last night in case Song Tianyao got thirsty. Song Tianyao picked up the chilled tea, took a sip, and peered out the window at the street.
Although it was not yet dawn, all the shops on the ground floor of the arcades on the street had already opened their doors, waiting to welcome customers. There were teahouses, sugarcane juice stalls, foreign goods shops, and vendors selling food along the street from modified carts.
This morning, brimming with the vibrancy of everyday life, made Song Tianyao feel that the world had become much more lively as he woke up.
After finishing his herbal tea and getting dressed, Chen Tai walked into the living room. He saw his Dad, Song Chunliang, tidying up the wooden box used for shoe repair. Judging from Song Chunliang's appearance, he was clearly preparing to go downstairs to start working and continue repairing shoes on the street.
Meanwhile, Zhao Meizhen and Song Wenwen finished dressing and washing up, preparing to go downstairs with Song Chunliang to stroll around the streets and familiarize themselves with their new living environment.
However, when Song Tianyao pushed open the bedroom door and walked out, everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
"What's wrong?" Song Tianyao looked at his parents, puzzled. "Don't you recognize me?"
"Wenwen, help your Dad carry his things downstairs. A-Tai, you go help your uncle too," Zhao Meizhen was the first to react and said to the others in the room.
Song Chunliang and Chen Tai simply picked up their shoe repair toolboxes and headed out the door. Song Wenwen wanted to stay in the room a little longer, but Zhao Meizhen turned and glared at her. She lowered her head and reluctantly followed the two out.
"You and that widow upstairs... Let me tell you, your mother hates widows the most. If you want to marry a widow, don't even think about it. Even if the whole building belonged to her, I wouldn't agree." After everyone else was out of the house, Zhao Meizhen said sternly to Song Tianyao, "If you're really in a hurry to get married, then Suzhen is the best choice. Li Laoshi and his wife definitely won't object. They might even give you more dowry because of the previous broken engagement, and you won't dare ask for a betrothal gift."
Song Tianyao yawned, reached for a cigarette to light, but Zhao Meizhen slapped it away with a dark face. "You brat! Did you even hear your mother talking to you? Don't think that just because you're someone's secretary, your mother won't scold you!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. That woman was limping, and I just took pity on her and carried her upstairs." Song Tianyao bent down, picked up the cigarette his mother had knocked away, put it back in his mouth, and walked towards the door. "I'm hungry. I'm going to the teahouse for breakfast. Do you want to come? My treat."
"Fine! I'll assume you did her a favor by carrying her upstairs! But did it really take over an hour to carry her back down? Does she live on the top of Tai Ping Shan Peak? Does she have to climb a mountain? Or did you feel sorry for the widow once you got upstairs, so you pretended to be the Goddess of Mercy and grant her a son?" Zhao Meizhen followed closely behind Song Tianyao, anxiously asking, "I don't object to you finding a wife, but not a widow!"
"Didn't I tell you when I went downstairs last night that I went to the rooftop to drink with Scribe Hui? It's not as sordid as you think." Song Tianyao stopped inside the door and explained to Zhao Meizhen, who was following behind him, with a hint of helplessness.