Street Patrols and Hidden Power

Pear Blossom Alley, with "blossom" in its name, truly exuded an air of charm and elegance utterly distinct from the Southern District, both within and beyond its lanes.

The bluestone pavement was laid smooth and even, and the storefronts on either side boasted vermilion lacquer and gleaming tiles, with carved window lattices. The morning sunlight slanted down, gilding the gold-lettered signboards of "Century-Old Shops" with a warm, cozy glow.

The air lacked the pervasive mustiness and sour rot of the Southern District; instead, it was mingled with the scent of powder and rouge, the aroma of fermented grains, and the sweet, sticky fragrance wafting from pastry shops.

Wei Datong walked in the middle of the three, puffing out his chicken chest, chin slightly raised, slapping his old short blade against his waist with a resounding smack-smack. As he passed a silk shop, the owner, who had been leaning on the counter clicking an abacus, quickly stood up, bowed with clasped hands across the threshold, his face wreathed in smiles.

Wei Datong strolled over slowly with his hands behind his back, only glancing at the man from the corner of his eye, letting out a grunt from his nose as a response.

The shopkeeper bent his waist even lower.

Xiong Tiezhu shouldered his thick-backed broadsword, eyes fixed straight ahead, each step steady and firm. Pedestrians on the street, seeing his burly frame, made way for him early on.

Ye Qingxuan followed at the rear. Watching the silk shop owner's fawning smile and Wei Datong's smug, petty demeanor, his heart remained undisturbed. This black uniform was indeed a fine tiger's skin to wear in Pear Blossom Alley.

They walked along the alley from the east end to the west, then circled back from the west to the east. All along the way, what they saw was bustling prosperity—thriving trade and orderly streets. Occasionally, a few idle ruffians gathered in a corner to bask in the sun, but as soon as they spotted the trio's attire, they scattered at once, slipping into side alleys and vanishing from sight.

A whole morning passed in this unhurried patrol. Uneventful, as calm as still water.

Near noon, the three returned to the Fengtian Division office.

The aroma of food had already risen from the rear courtyard kitchen. Calling it fragrant was generous—it was really just the smell of coarse rice mixed with a big pot of stew. Several long wooden tables were set up in the yard, already crowded with temporary constables just like them. Some squatted, some sat, each clutching a large black earthenware bowl, eating with loud, slurping sounds.

A half-man-tall wooden bucket was filled with gleaming white coarse rice. Beside it, a large iron pot held a stew, the main ingredient being cabbage, boiled until yellow and soft, the broth murky with a few pitiful flecks of oil floating on top. Occasionally, a sliver of meat would surface from the bottom, only to be pressed back down by the cook's ladle, drawing a burst of laughter.

Wei Datong filled his bowl to the brim with rice, then begged the cook for an extra ladle of broth, found an empty spot, and began wolfing it down.

Xiong Tiezhu took two bowls of rice, stacked them together, and only scooped half a ladle of vegetables. He sat to one side, eating one mouthful of rice, one mouthful of vegetables, methodically and meticulously.

Ye Qingxuan also filled his bowl to the brim. After two nights of tempering, his stomach was completely empty. Now, catching the scent of the rice, he felt the dormant beast within him awaken. Without a word, he buried his head and ate. One bowl was polished off in a few quick bites.

He stood up and went for a second bowl.

After finishing, his stomach still felt hollow. He rose again and walked toward the rice bucket.

"Hey, Qingxuan, you little bastard, were you a starving ghost in a past life?" Wei Datong had just finished his first bowl and was picking his teeth, teasing Ye Qingxuan as he saw him go for more rice.

A few people nearby looked over at the sound.

Ye Qingxuan just smiled, said nothing, and filled a third bowl to the brim.

His appetite was far greater than usual. The cultivation of the Indestructible Vajra Body was like a furnace, rapidly converting the food he ate into qi and blood, replenishing his body's deficits.

Seeing Ye Qingxuan ignore him, Wei Datong grew bored and shifted to complaining about the food. "Damn it, boiled cabbage again, my mouth's so bland it could spit out a bird. We run our legs off all day long, and this is what we eat?"

He poked around in his bowl with his chopsticks, finally turning up a fingernail-sized piece of fat, quickly stuffing it into his mouth, savoring it for a long time before reluctantly swallowing.

"I heard," he lowered his voice, speaking to Ye Qingxuan and Xiong Tiezhu, who was silently eating, "that Chief Constable Zhang and the others have their own private kitchen in the back hall. Chicken and fish every meal, with top-quality yellow wine from 'Dukang Tower' in the west of the city. That life, tsk tsk..."

Xiong Tiezhu swallowed a big mouthful of rice and replied in a muffled voice, "They're chief constables."

"So what if they're chief constables? Don't they have one nose and two eyes?" Wei Datong fumed indignantly. "We're here eating chaff and vegetables, and they're over there feasting on meat and fish. What the hell is that about?"

Ye Qingxuan ate his third bowl slowly.

Listening to Wei Datong's complaints, his gaze drifted past the noisy courtyard toward the back hall.

The food was just a small reflection of the strict hierarchy within the Fengtian Division.

The food was different, and so were the clothes. Temporary constables wore hand-me-down coarse linen black uniforms, while full constables wore custom-fitted new cotton official robes.

Even the drinks were different. When they got thirsty in this yard, they could only scoop a gourd of well water from the vat. But Chief Constable Zhang and his men, sitting under the eaves, were served fine Mingqian Longjing tea.

Behind all this lay power.

Power determined what you ate, what you wore, what you used. It determined whether others bowed to you with clasped hands or dismissed you with a sneer.

Yesterday morning, he had thought about sitting under that eaves.

No, that wasn't right!

He swallowed the last mouthful of rice and set the black earthenware bowl down heavily on the table with a soft clack.

What he wanted wasn't to sit there and listen to others talk. It was to stand there and speak freely to the crowd in this yard!

In the afternoon, the sun blazed fiercely.

The streets of Pear Blossom Alley had thinned out considerably.

Wei Datong yawned, tears streaming from his eyes. "Come on, let's rest in that shade over there." He led the two of them, familiar with the way, into a small side alley. At the end of the alley was an abandoned courtyard wall, beneath which stood an old locust tree with thick, lush branches casting a wide patch of cool shade.

The three found a clean stone step and sat down.

Wei Datong pulled a water pouch from his bosom, took a drink, then leaned comfortably against the wall, half-closing his eyes, and began to gossip about trivial neighborhood affairs. From Widow Wang on East Street getting into another fight, to Butcher Liu on West Lane taking a new concubine—he told it all vividly.

Xiong Tiezhu laid his thick-backed broadsword across his knees, pulled an oilcloth from his boot, and meticulously wiped the blade. Even in the shade, the sword gleamed with a cold, sharp light.

Ye Qingxuan leaned against the tree trunk, resting with his eyes closed. He appeared to be relaxing, but his mind was sunk deep within his body, sensing the flow of qi and blood through his limbs and bones. The heat from the three bowls of rice in his stomach was seeping bit by bit into his flesh, skin, muscles, and bones, nourishing the hidden injuries left by last night's arduous training.

His hands hung at his sides, but his fingers unconsciously curled and uncurled, mimicking the motion of slapping his flesh.

This rest stretched on for over an hour.

Only when the sun began to sink westward and the heat faded did the three return to the main street of Pear Blossom Alley, slowly making two more rounds.

Nothing happened that day.

When it was time to clock out, the three returned to the office and handed in their waist tokens. The constable in charge of roll call didn't even glance at them, took the tokens, and waved them away.

Hong Qingshan, that nominal lead old constable, hadn't shown even a shadow of himself from start to finish.

The three of them walked out of the government office gates and went their separate ways.

Wei Datong was shouting about going to the tavern at the street corner for a few drinks; Xiong Tiezhu shook his head, shouldered his blade, and headed straight home.

Ye Qingxuan also declined Wei Datong's invitation, saying only that his younger sister was waiting for him at home. He walked along the road back to the Southern District, facing the afterglow of the setting sun.

The streets were bustling with people, the cries of vendors and sounds of laughter mingling into one, full of the mundane world's mortal atmosphere.

But Ye Qingxuan's mind was on something else.

Today's patrol had turned up nothing. Tomorrow, the day after—most likely the same. Relying on this dead salary, forget about repaying debts; even the daily expenses for him and his sister, plus the cost of his training, were barely sustainable.

He had to find another way.

His steps unconsciously quickened.

Night, come quickly.