The Coldness of the World

At noon the next day, the martial arts school's kitchen was exceptionally lively.

Today was the tenth day, meaning there was an extra ration of food.

Each table held a large tub of pitch-black medicinal soup that emitted a strong scent of Chinese medicine along with a hint of a bloody smell.

This was "Blood Qi Soup."

Word had it that it was brewed from several blood-activating herbs combined with fresh deer blood or pig heart blood.

Lu Zhen picked up his bowl, which was filled to the brim with a purplish-black liquid.

Around him, fellow apprentices pinched their noses and gulped it down, while others grimaced in bitterness.

Without hesitation, Lu Zhen tilted his head back and drank it all in one go.

"Gulp."

The soup entered his throat, fishy, bitter, and with a bit of a spicy kick.

Yet the moment it landed in his belly, it felt like a ball of fire had ignited.

A wave of intense heat spread from his stomach, rushing straight into his limbs and bones.

The soreness left over from practicing fist forms that morning was mostly washed away by this heat, leaving his body feeling warm and indescribably comfortable.

Good stuff.

Lu Zhen licked his lips; for this tuition of eight silver dollars, just this alone was worth the price of admission.

As he was savoring the aftertaste, someone sat down beside him. It was Gu Yanzhi, as expected.

Finding the Blood Qi Soup fishy and bitter, he only drank a couple of sips before setting it aside, skillfully pulling out a thread-bound booklet and pushing it across.

"Brother Lu, save my life."

The drawing on the paper was precisely the structure of a revolver. Gu Yanzhi made a bitter face as he used a charcoal pencil to press heavily on the cylinder:

"The overall structure is settled, but there is a fatal hitch.

The star wheel can turn, but how do you ensure that after pulling the trigger, the cylinder aligns seamlessly with the barrel every single time?

Even if it's off by a fraction, firing will inevitably cause the chamber to explode and shatter your hand! I want to add gears, but I'm worried they're redundant and easily jammed."

Lu Zhen glanced at it, picked up his chopsticks, dipped them in a bit of vegetable soup, and casually drew a couple of strokes in the blank space of the drawing.

"Don't overcomplicate it."

Lu Zhen pointed at the water marks and explained, "Cut a circle of ratchet teeth on the end of the cylinder, and add a spring-loaded 'hand pawl' to the hammer linkage. The moment you pull the trigger, the pawl pushes upward, just driving the cylinder forward by one notch."

Next, he added a small square at the bottom.

"As for preventing the chamber from exploding, carve a few grooves on the outer edge of the cylinder and add a spring-loaded 'positioning detent' at the bottom of the gun frame.

The instant the trigger is pulled all the way back, the detent springs up and locks firmly into the groove.

With the cylinder locked, it'll naturally be seamless."

Gu Yanzhi stared fixedly at those few water marks, his breathing instantly turning ragged.

"Ratchet-driven... detent-locked... flawless!"

He slapped his thigh with a sharp slap. "Extremely ingenious! With this kind of linkage, even single-handed continuous firing is achievable! Simply a stroke of divine inspiration!"

Gu Yanzhi hastily snatched up his charcoal pencil, rapidly completing the structure, unable to conceal the wild joy on his face.

Subsequently, he deftly produced ten Yuan Silver Dollars, pressing them onto the table with a crisp clink.

"Brother Lu has great talent! This is the drawing fee. With these linkage details, the blueprints are priceless!"

"If they can be manufactured in the future, you and I will split it fifty-fifty."

Lu Zhen looked at the silver dollars, then looked at Gu Yanzhi.

Ten silver dollars.

When he pulled his rickshaw outside, he had to brave the wind and snow to run for half a day, and even then, he had to rely on good luck to earn that much.

Yet here, by flapping his gums and drawing a line, the money just arrived.

Furthermore, promising future profits meant this Young Master Gu was truly not bad.

"Thank you."

Lu Zhen didn't stand on ceremony, reaching out to tuck the silver dollars into his bosom.

This was simply a case of each taking what he needed.

The afternoon wind grew increasingly fierce.

Lu Zhen pulled his rickshaw, running at a sprint across the street.

Just as he passed the entrance of Great World, a half-grown boy waving newspapers tore his throat with a raspy shout.

"Extra! Extra--!"

"City Hall urgent order! To prevent a mutiny outside the city, the northern floodgates have been opened!"

"Tens of thousands of refugees have entered the city! The Security Bureau reminds citizens to close doors and windows early and avoid secluded places!"

The street instantly fell into chaos.

Before long, Lu Zhen caught sight of those refugees.

A pitch-black mass, like rats pouring out of a sewer, crept forward along the edges of the broad avenue.

Each and every one of them was dressed in rags, sallow and emaciated, with sunken eye sockets.

Some dragged their families along, carrying tattered bedding rolls; others leaned on wooden staves, and upon seeing a steamed bun shop or sesame cake stall by the roadside, the yellowish whites of their eyes flared with a ghastly green light, staring unblinkingly with a fierce edge that looked as though they wanted to eat people.

The Constabulary's formation roared past, the dull thuds of nightsticks striking flesh mingling with shrieks rising one after another.

Lu Zhen's heart sank.

The times had grown chaotic.

With so many mouths needing to eat and so many lives needing to survive once they entered Ocean City, there was no telling how much trouble would erupt.

Lacking the mood to pull any more fares, he returned the rickshaw to the rental yard, clutched a few warm steamed buns he had bought, and hurried back on foot.

Dusk fell.

Pig Cage Alley was gloomy enough as it was, and today it radiated an even more sinister chill.

Before he even reached his doorstep, Lu Zhen's brow furrowed.

The usually desolate depths of the alley now held quite a few unfamiliar faces.

Several unkempt men with hunched shoulders were gathered right outside the doorway of his dilapidated wooden shack, peering inquisitively into the crack of the door.

Those gazes did not look like those of good people.

Just as Lu Zhen was about to flare up, he saw two figures standing guard at his doorway like door gods.

One was Uncle Ma, who lived next door and sold rotten vegetables, holding a shoulder pole he usually used to carry his produce.

The other was Cobbler Xiao Wu from the entrance of the alley, clutching a shoe-repair awl with a look of extreme vigilance.

"Get on out of here! What are you looking at?!"

Uncle Ma brandished his shoulder pole, roaring at the refugees:

"There's no food here! Scram! If you don't get lost, I'm calling the constables!"

Those refugees showed no fear, grinning as they pressed forward, their eyes darting straight into the house.

"Old man, mind your own business."

"We just want a drink of water. We heard there's only a little girl inside..."

"You're courting death!"

A cold shout came from behind.

Lu Zhen strode forward with bold, rapid steps.

Those refugees were startled and looked back.

They saw a sturdy man bearing down on them, his expression so gloomy it looked like it could drip water.

That wasn't even all.

What made their eyelids twitch wildly was the cyan cloth training uniform the man wore.

On his chest, the two large characters "Iron Arm" stood out with piercing clarity in the dim light.

"He's from the martial arts school!"

"Run!"

Famished though the refugees were, they knew who could be provoked and who could not.

This sort of martial artist struck with the utmost ruthlessness; beating a stray refugee to death was no different from crushing an ant, and there was nowhere to appeal for justice.

Exchanging glances, the men shrank their necks in fright and scattered in a swarm, plunging into the shadows and vanishing.

Seeing the refugees flee, Uncle Ma and Xiao Wu finally let out a sigh of relief and lowered their weapons.

"Aiyo, Little Lu... oh no, Master Lu, you're finally back."

Uncle Ma wiped the sweat from his brow, piling a smile onto his face:

"Those fellows were acting all sneaky just now, hanging around the doorway the whole time. Seeing that Miss Wan'er was home alone and fearing something might happen, I called Xiao Wu over to help keep watch."

Xiao Wu tucked his awl back into his waistband, cupping his fists in a salute, his tone imbued with respect:

"That's right, Brother Lu. Times are chaotic, and those starving refugees will do anything. Since we're neighbors on the same street, looking out for each other is only right."

Lu Zhen looked at these two familiar yet somewhat estranged faces.

Whenever Uncle Ma had seen him in the past, he always complained that his rickshaw blocked the way and gave him plenty of cold shoulders.

As for Xiao Wu, he had never once looked properly at him, a cripple.

Yet today, their attitude had undergone a complete one-eighty turn.

Lu Zhen understood the situation as clearly as a mirror, but outwardly he showed nothing, merely cupping his fists in return.

"Many thanks, Uncle Ma, and many thanks, Brother Wu."

"If not for you two acting righteously today, my little sister probably really would have suffered calamity."

With that, he drew out the still-warm paper parcel from his bosom, took out four white flour steamed buns, and shoved two into each of their hands.

"It's cold, and I don't have anything good. Take these two buns back home to fill the kids' bellies."

At the sight of those large, white steamed buns, the two men's eyes went straight.

With grain prices skyrocketing right now, such white flour steamed buns were precious luxury goods.

"This... this is too embarrassing..."

Though Uncle Ma was polite in words, his hands gripped the buns tightly, terrified that Lu Zhen might take them back.

"Brother Lu is too polite! If you need anything in the future, just say the word!" Xiao Wu smiled so wide his mouth almost reached his ears.

After offering profuse thanks, the two men left in satisfaction.

Lu Zhen stood at the doorway, watching their departing backs, his gaze turning somewhat cold.

He turned and knocked on the door.

"Little Sister, open the door. It's me."

Entering the room, Lu Wan was huddled in the corner clutching a pair of scissors, her small face as pale as paper.

Seeing that it was her older brother back, she finally let out a "wah" of crying and threw herself into Lu Zhen's arms.

Lu Zhen patted his little sister's back, soothing her softly while turbulent thoughts churned in his heart.

This was reality.

In the past, he was a crippled rickshaw puller, bullied and looked down upon, where even those ruffians dared to shit on his head.

Aside from Sister Shen Yun occasionally sending a bowl of hot porridge, out of the hundreds of households in this vast Pig Cage Alley, not a single person had ever extended a helping hand to him.

Yet now.

His leg was healed, he had entered the martial arts school, and he wore this uniform representing power and status.

These people instantly changed their tune.

Volunteering to watch the house and guard the courtyard, calling him "Master Lu" and "Brother Lu" with an affection closer than their own fathers.

The so-called distant relatives being less helpful than close neighbors—when all was said and done, people still judged others by their status and appearance.

When you were strong, everyone around you was a good person.

When you were weak, anyone would step up to kick you.

Lu Zhen touched the embroidery of the characters "Iron Arm" on his chest, a cold smile curling the corner of his mouth.

In this world, only by training your fists to be hard could you truly rely on anything.

Everything else was an illusion.

The night grew deep, and the wind still howled, blowing the paper windowpanes into a rattling clatter.

The coal stove in the room burned vigorously, radiating a trace of warmth.

Lu Zhen sat by the bedside, staring at the front door braced shut with a wooden pole, his brow never smoothing out.

This wooden door was too thin.

It could block the wind and snow, but it couldn't block human malice.

The refugees flooding in from outside were increasing by the day; once people were driven mad by hunger, they ceased to be human and became beasts.

Today, Uncle Ma and the others helped out, but that was entirely for the sake of his "Iron Arm" uniform.

Yet if he weren't around one day, or if those refugees truly banded into a mob, this bit of surface respect probably wouldn't hold up.

Lu Zhen's gaze pierced through the wall, looking diagonally across.

Over at Shen Yun's place, the situation was even worse.

A lone widow with a child, and an attractive one who had fallen on hard times at that, looked like lambs waiting for slaughter in the eyes of those wicked people.

A notion stirred within Lu Zhen's heart.