Rickshaw Puller

"Little Zhou."

"Little Yan."

"Brother Zhou."

Zhou Yan, drenched in sweat, pulled his rickshaw back to the depot. As he neared, many people greeted him—they were all fellow rickshaw pullers from the depot.

He smiled and returned every greeting, exchanging a few words here and there.

"Brother Ma, how was the haul today?"

"Uncle Wang, I saw you landed a big fare."

"Little Qi, are you holding up alright?"

"..."

He had started pulling rickshaws at thirteen, and now, three years later, he was considered a veteran at the depot.

He knew almost all of his peers, and many of them were even his neighbors.

Zhou Yan was generous and never hesitated to help out, which had earned him many close friends.

On top of that, his eldest brother-in-law was a local patrolman, so everyone treated him with a degree of respect.

Arriving at the back courtyard of the depot, Zhou Yan successfully returned his rickshaw.

As a veteran of the depot, he was trusted by Old Li, who handled the returns; after a quick glance, he accepted the vehicle with a cheerful smile.

However, Old Li was quite curious about the three bamboo tubes Zhou Yan had taken off the rickshaw.

"Little Zhou, ever since your first day here, you've always had those three bamboo tubes hanging on your rickshaw. Why is that?"

Zhou Yan chuckled, holding the three tubes as he said, "It's nothing, just a symbol for peace and protection. Back in my hometown, there's a custom that as long as you hang three bamboo tubes, you'll be kept safe."

Old Li finally understood and nodded with a smile.

The current world was in chaos; the government was newly established and unstable, warlords carved up the land, and the common people lived in misery.

Shen City was no different. Foreigners held themselves above everyone else, officials were corrupt, gangs ran rampant, and bandits were everywhere, leading to constant danger.

The most terrifying things of all, however, were the legendary ghosts and spirits.

Even those living within the city walls never knew when they might encounter danger.

There had been rickshaw pullers who were caught in the crossfire of gang fights, others who were murdered by thugs, and some who simply turned up dead in the mass graves for no reason. Every year, many pullers met with accidents of one kind or another.

Therefore, such precautions were hardly surprising.

Even Old Li himself, despite hiding in the depot every day, wore a protective talisman around his neck that he had obtained from the Temple of the Great Immortal Huang.

After bidding farewell to Old Li, Zhou Yan hurried to the market to buy a few pounds of leftover cabbage, radishes, and green onions, along with a pound of white flour and three pounds of mixed grain flour, before heading home.

On the way back, he stared at a butcher's stall for a long time before finally steeling himself to buy three taels of pork belly. He wrapped it in oil paper, tucked it against his chest, and hurried away.

This, however, made his earnings from the day look precarious, as he had barely half left.

Perhaps the memory of starving in the past was too deeply ingrained; when Zhou Yan first started pulling, he used every cent he earned to buy grain.

Even if he couldn't eat it all, he could hide it away.

Later, as he grew stronger and earned more, he shifted to spending half his daily earnings on food and saving the rest.

For nearly three years, he had done this almost without fail.

Even the shopkeepers and clerks at the grain stores were very familiar with him.

To this end, Zhou Yan had even spent an entire month of nights digging a cellar in his home, where he had gradually stored nearly eight hundred pounds of various grains.

That way, when disaster struck, he wouldn't be caught completely unprepared.

In troubled times, every decision was backed by a lesson, whether profound or painful...

Zhou Yan's home was located in Stone Pool Alley, in a corner of the South City, named after a nearby pond.

Over a hundred households lived there, making it a relatively large alley due to its high population density.

Correspondingly, the sanitary conditions were abysmal, with sewage flowing everywhere and a stench that filled the air.

Especially in the summer, the dense swarms of flies and mosquitoes were enough to make anyone with trypophobia faint.

Ever since Zhou Yan regained the memories of his past life three years ago, he still hadn't fully adapted to this.

Entering the alley, he was greeted by many more people, and Zhou Yan responded with a smile.

The more chaotic the times, the more people needed to huddle together for warmth.

Especially for poor folk like them, aside from themselves, all they could rely on were the other poor people around them.

Do not underestimate them; these people understood the wisdom of survival.

They might not speak of the principle that "when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold," but they lived by it.

At the very least, before facing a life-or-death crisis, these people truly practiced the idea that a close neighbor is better than a distant relative.

"Mother, I'm home."

Zhou Yan navigated the narrow path until he reached a house near the center of the row. He hung the three bamboo tubes from his belt onto the door before pushing it open and stepping inside.

The space within was modest; beyond the kitchen, it was partitioned into two small rooms, one inner and one outer.

His father had passed away early, leaving behind Mother Zhou, an older sister, a younger brother, and a younger sister.

However, his older sister, Zhou Li, had married three years ago, leaving only four people in the household now.

At night, Zhou Yan and his younger brother, Zhou Chuan, slept in the outer room, while his mother and younger sister, Zhou Jing, occupied the inner one.

Mother Zhou was busy cooking when she saw her eldest son return, her face immediately lighting up with joy.

"You're back. You must be tired; go rest for a moment, dinner will be ready soon."

Zhou Yan chuckled, "I'm not tired."

As he spoke, he handed the grain and vegetables he was carrying to Mother Zhou.

Mother Zhou habitually placed the vegetables on the floor and poured the grain into a nearby jar.

Every so often, Mother Zhou would rotate the stock, taking out the older grain and moving the fresh supply into the cellar.

Though it was troublesome, neither Mother Zhou nor Zhou Yan complained; instead, they felt a sense of security watching the grain in the cellar steadily accumulate.

Finally, Zhou Yan pulled the oil-paper-wrapped pork belly from his tunic.

Seeing it, Mother Zhou couldn't help but look slightly pained. "You child, why did you buy meat again? We need to live within our means."

Zhou Yan knew his mother wasn't truly stingy; she simply knew that every time he bought meat, at least half of it ended up in the mouths of his younger brother and sister.

In Mother Zhou's eyes, Zhou Yan was the pillar of the family, and since he worked pulling carts, it was only natural that he needed to eat well.

But as for the two younger children at home, having enough to eat was already considered good.

In many other households, let alone eating meat, children were lucky just to be kept from starving.

"I've been earning quite a bit pulling carts lately. Let the younger ones have some to build up their strength so they don't get sick as often," Zhou Yan said with a smile.

At the same time, he handed over the rest of his earnings to Mother Zhou, holding nothing back.

In an environment like this, a family needed to be open and honest with one another to survive.

Three years had washed away the restlessness Zhou Yan had brought from another world, leaving him grounded, steady, and cautious.

If there was one thing that still set him apart from the common folk of this world, it was that while the fire in his heart had dimmed significantly, it had never been fully extinguished.