The Crippled Coachman

"Extra! Extra!"

"The Western 'Golden Lion Empire' has signed the 'Twenty-One Demands of Martial Arts' with the 'Zhenwei Martial Arts Hall' this morning!"

"To raise military funds, Gao Dashuai has mortgaged the mining rights along the thirty-mile stretch of the 'Yuehan Railway' to the Eastern 'Black Sun Corporation'!"

"The Yellow River has burst its banks, and over two hundred thousand refugees are now blocked outside the iron wire fences of the foreign concessions!"

Three pieces of news, each one piercing the heart.

The streets were in an uproar; some people stomped their feet and beat their chests, but more simply shook their heads in numbness.

"Make way, make way!"

The chaotic crowd was forcibly plowed open by a rickshaw.

The man pulling the rickshaw was named Lu Zhen.

He wore a faded, old sleeveless shirt, his back soaked through with sweat, steam rising from his skin.

At a glance, his gait appeared peculiar.

His right leg could not bear weight, causing him to limp with every step.

As his legs alternated in length, the two shafts of the rickshaw swayed high and low, like a boat riding the waves.

In the passenger seat, a wealthy lady with a trendy perm clutched her chest tightly with a handkerchief, her face full of irritation.

"Damn it! What a disaster!"

The wheel hit a small mound, and the carriage body sank and bounced violently.

The lady tilted to the side, nearly hitting the armrest, and immediately shrieked:

"You cripple! You can't even walk properly and you're out pulling a rickshaw? Bumping and jolting like this, you're going to make me throw up my dinner!"

"I have a mahjong date with Mrs. Smith. If your jolting brings me bad luck and I lose money, can you afford to pay for it?"

"Yes, yes, sit tight, Madam. The road ahead is better."

Lu Zhen whispered an apology, his back suddenly hunching down.

His large feet, clad in black cloth shoes, gripped the bluestone pavement firmly, the muscles in his calves tightening like iron, successfully stabilizing the carriage.

The main road ahead was blocked by protesting students, so Lu Zhen skillfully turned the rickshaw into a narrow lane called "Tobacco Pouch Alley."

Within the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, a red-brick Western-style house appeared before them.

"We're here, Madam."

Lu Zhen lowered the shafts and pulled the colorless sweat towel from his neck, wiping his face haphazardly.

The lady stepped out, meticulously smoothing her cheongsam. Just as she opened her handbag, a pungent, sour smell of sweat wafted over.

She recoiled half a step as if avoiding a plague, fanning her perfumed handkerchief at her nose, her brows locked in a frown: "You country bumpkins have such a sour stench, it's nauseating..."

Two silver coins landed with a "clink" in Lu Zhen's calloused palm.

Two jiao for three kilometers—the standard fare for the rickshaw company, not a cent of tip.

Lu Zhen didn't look twice; he bent down, pulled the empty rickshaw, and turned around.

After walking a few steps, he subconsciously lowered his head and sniffed his shirt.

"It does smell a bit."

He muttered to himself, his expression calm.

Firewood, rice, oil, and salt.

Firewood comes first.

In the dead of winter, when water freezes into ice, coal is expensive and firewood even more so; how could he bear to burn water for a bath?

Usually, when his body itched, he would just draw a bucket of cold water by the well and scrub himself hard with a wet towel.

They say rickshaw pulling is a "high-paying" job for laborers, but the trade has strict rules and heavy exploitation.

License fees, equipment costs, the non-negotiable daily quota... running from dawn till dusk, after paying for food, there is simply nothing left in his hands.

As for this lame leg... Lu Zhen touched his stiff knee, his eyes dimming for a moment.

At eighteen, he was a student in the martial arts class at "Jingcheng Middle School" in the north of the city.

At that time, his foster parents were critically ill. To get money for their treatment, he agreed to the wealthy young master Zhao Jincheng that he would throw the match during the "Martial Arts Academy" selection in the provincial capital.

Who would have thought that Zhao Jincheng was so vicious? He launched a sneak attack with full force while Lu Zhen was holding back, shattering the meridians in his leg.

Afterward, Zhao reneged on the deal and bit back, accusing Lu Zhen of "selling his spot," leading to his expulsion.

This limp had lasted twelve years.

Enduring the soreness in his leg, Lu Zhen returned to "Pig Cage Alley"—the lowest slum in Ocean City.

At the entrance of the dilapidated wooden shack deep in the alley, three men in black short-sleeved shirts stood guard, their collars open to reveal ferocious blue tattoos.

Black Snake Gang.

Lu Zhen felt his heart sink.

A month ago, he awakened the Mystery of the Womb and recovered memories of his past life.

Unwilling to remain a cripple for the rest of his days, he borrowed thirty Yuan Silver Dollar from the Black Snake Gang to purchase a dose of Bone-Mending Muscle-Regenerating Soup.

The medicine was consumed, yet it vanished like a stone cast into the sea, leaving no trace and saddling him with a mountain of debt.

"Cripple Lu, you finally decided to show your face?"

The leader, Triangular Eyes, spat out a sunflower seed shell, his fleshy face squinting sideways. "Where's the money?"

As he spoke, his thieving eyes darted toward the tightly shut window of the house, and he gave a greasy smirk. "That's your little sister in there, right? I heard she's sixteen? Perfect. The Drunken Flower Pavilion is short on girls, and a pretty face like hers could fetch a dozen or so."

Lu Zhen steadied his nerves and blocked the doorway. "We signed a contract. The loan term is six months, with principal and interest to be repaid then. Only one month has passed."

"Six months?" Triangular Eyes grinned exaggeratedly, his thugs chuckling behind him. "Cripple Lu, did pulling a rickshaw rot your brain? The principal is for six months, but the interest is calculated weekly! Nine out, thirteen back, interest upon interest—do you think this is a charity soup kitchen?"

He stepped closer, his yellow teeth reeking of rot. "Five Yuan Silver Dollar in interest every week. Short a single cent, and I'll hack off one of your legs!"

Lu Zhen remained silent for a moment, then reached into his tunic and pulled out three Yuan Silver Dollar along with a handful of loose silver coins, spreading them across his palm.

This was his entire fortune, saved from half a month of pulling a rickshaw day and night, squeezed out from between his teeth.

Triangular Eyes snatched the silver coins and blew on them to hear the ring.

"Clink—"

"You're a sensible one." Triangular Eyes weighed the coins, his ferocity dimming slightly. "Same time next week. Have the money ready, and don't make me come knocking."

The three harbingers of doom swaggered away, and the alley returned to a deathly silence.

Lu Zhen turned to look at his own dilapidated wooden door, stuffed with straw, and knocked three times.

"Little sister, it's me."

There was a sound of heavy objects being moved inside, and the wooden door creaked open a crack.

In the dim light, a pale little face appeared.

It was his little sister, Wan'er. She was clutching a pair of scissors so tightly that her knuckles were white; only when she saw it was her big brother did her tense shoulders slump, her eyes instantly reddening.

Lu Zhen stepped inside and slid the bolt shut behind him.

A woman sat by the table wearing a blue cloth floral-patterned jacket; it was his eldest sister, Lu Fang.

Seeing Lu Zhen enter, Lu Fang stood up awkwardly, wringing her handkerchief, her face full of shame. "Brother Zhen... today was my fault."

"It's cold out, so I thought I'd bring you two pounds of cornmeal. I didn't notice I had a tail behind me, and I ended up leading those thugs right to your door..."

Lu Zhen paused in the middle of pouring water.

No wonder Triangular Eyes hadn't been at the street corner today; he had been waiting right at their doorstep.

His eldest sister had married three years ago. Her husband's family had once been wealthy and had produced martial artists, though they had declined over the generations.

In this world, people were divided into nine ranks.

Those like him who pulled rickshaws were the wretches of the lowest rank, selling their strength and burning through cheap lives.

But martial artists were different.

That was the carp leaping over the dragon gate; they were respectable people.

An ordinary laborer couldn't save ten Yuan Silver Dollar in a year of backbreaking work.

Yet a martial artist, whether escorting goods or teaching at a martial arts school, could easily pull in hundreds a month.

The sky had turned completely dark.

Lu Fang glanced out the window, her expression anxious. "Brother Zhen, it's getting late. I have to go back."

She fumbled in the inner pocket of her jacket, gritted her teeth, and placed two Yuan Silver Dollar, still warm from her body, on the table.

"Take this money. Wan'er is at the age where she needs to grow; go buy half a pound of meat to get some nutrition. It's too cold—buy a hundred pounds of coal briquettes, too. Don't let anyone freeze."

Lu Zhen looked at the two silver dollars but didn't move.

These two dollars were likely his eldest sister's private savings, squeezed out from her own needs, or perhaps even the grocery money for the Zhou Family for the next two weeks.

Seeing him remain silent, Lu Fang forced a stiff smile. "Take it. I'm doing fine at the Zhou Family; I don't lack for food or clothes, and your brother-in-law is... considerate."

With that, she shoved the silver dollars into Lu Zhen's calloused palm and turned to open the door.

"Wait."

Lu Zhen tucked the silver dollars into his tunic, grabbed the sweat towel from the corner of the wall, draped it over his neck, and slid the bolt back.

"As it happens, I need to return the rickshaw to the depot. If I'm late, they'll dock my pay." Lu Zhen bent down to pull the rickshaw parked in the cold wind, exhaling a puff of white mist.

"I'll walk you part of the way."

"Little sister, lock the door tight."

He chose the main road for the entire journey.

Though it was a longer route, it had streetlights and patrols from the Constabulary.

Arriving at the main gate of the Zhou Family in the south of the city, Lu Zhen watched his eldest sister step inside and waited until he heard the gatekeeper slide the bolt shut before turning to leave.

Shunfa Rickshaw Firm was ablaze with light.

Returning the rickshaw, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

Lu Zhen walked out of the firm, tightened his tattered vest against the biting wind, and stepped into a deserted alleyway.

Suddenly, his footsteps faltered.

His vision blurred, and lines of pale blue text abruptly materialized before his eyes.

[Daily Settlement Panel activated]

[Today's settlement: Pulled a rickshaw for eight hours, traveled one hundred li.]

[Obtained: Silver Dollar +2, Profession EXP +5, Physique EXP +5, General EXP +5!]

[Current Daily Settlement Level: LV1, Daily rewards multiplied by 1x]

As the text appeared, a strange, warm current manifested out of thin air, instantly coursing through his limbs and bones before finally pooling in his dantian.

Lu Zhen rubbed his eyes vigorously...

The panel immediately transformed into a semi-transparent character attribute window.

Lu Zhen (30 years old)

Wealth: 4 Silver Dollars

Current Profession: Rickshaw Puller

Level: Daily Settlement Lv.1 (0/50)

Skill: Rickshaw Pulling Lv.1 (5/50)

Physique: Meridian Blockage Lv.1 (5/50)

General EXP: 5 points

Lu Zhen stared at the "Wealth: 4 Silver Dollars" line on the panel, his hand instinctively reaching into his pocket.

Originally, there had only been the two silver dollars his eldest sister gave him.

But now...

One, two... three, four?

There really were two extra!

The author is currently accompanying family for chemotherapy while writing this book. To all the handsome men and beautiful women out there, please add this to your bookshelf; I can barely afford to eat.