Chen Jianghe heard every word from afar, and a chill rose in his heart.
A hundred and fifty copper coins, with two coins of interest per day. It sounded like pocket change, but over a month, the interest alone would amount to sixty coins—a yearly rate of nearly fifty percent!
This was nothing but a usurious loan that sucked the marrow from your bones. Once you borrowed, you could forget about ever paying it off.
Wang Biao had decided that he could bully the mother and son because they were weak.
Chen Jianghe drew a deep breath, tamped down his anger, and strode forward.
His voice calm, he gently steadied Lin by the arm. "Mother."
Seeing her son, Lin grew even more flustered. "Jianghe, you're back. Lord Biao says the fees have gone up!"
When Wang Biao saw Chen Jianghe return, his grin widened. "Well, look who's back! Perfect—you can hear this too. The gang's got a new rule: we charge by the head. There are three of you, so you owe four hundred and fifty coins. Your mother only has three hundred, so you're short a hundred and fifty. Are you going to pay the difference now, or should I lend it to you?"
As he spoke, his gaze swept over Chen Jianghe's coarse, heavily patched clothes, and a flicker of contempt passed through his eyes.
A day laborer at the Shen Mansion—how much could he squeeze out of him? Wang Biao was going to get his money today.
Chen Jianghe shielded his mother behind him and gave a bitter smile. "Lord Biao, the increase came so suddenly. We really can't scrape together the money right away."
Wang Biao patted him on the shoulder, looking as though he had his best interests at heart. "I understand, I do. That's why I said I could lend it to you. A hundred and fifty coins, two coins of interest a day. Borrow whenever you need it, pay it back whenever you can. I won't cheat you. How about it? I'm only offering because I know life's hard for a widowed mother and her son."
Chen Jianghe lowered his head and fell silent for a few breaths.
Behind him, Lin anxiously tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Jianghe, don't borrow it. That interest..."
"Mother, it's all right." Chen Jianghe glanced back at her, giving her a reassuring look.
When he turned back, his face was full of gratitude. "Lord Wang, you're a man of honor. Then I'll borrow a hundred and fifty coins to tide us over. I'll pay back the principal and interest next month."
A flash of smugness crossed Wang Biao's eyes. He waved a hand. "That's the spirit! Bring the ledger!"
One of his men immediately handed over a ledger.
Wang Biao pulled a charcoal pencil and an ink pad from his robes, then wet the pencil tip with his tongue. "Come on, put your thumbprint here. Loan of a hundred and fifty coins, two coins' interest per day, term of one month. If you don't pay by the due date, your boat will be collateral."
Chen Jianghe took the pencil and pressed his thumb to the loan agreement.
Wang Biao tucked the agreement away, satisfied, then gave Chen Jianghe a heavy pat on the shoulder. "All right, get back to what you were doing. Remember, on the first of next month, you owe two hundred and ten coins, principal and interest. I'll be here to collect on time."
With that, he swaggered off with his two men. Their footsteps thudded across the boat's planks, gradually fading into the distance.
Chen Jianghe helped his mother, Lin, sit down at the bow.
The river slapped against the rotting hull, making a hollow sound.
Tears welled in Lin's eyes again. Her rough fingers clutched her son's sleeve. "Jianghe, I'm no use at all! A hundred and fifty coins, with two coins' interest a day... How much will we owe by the end of the month?"
Chen Jianghe crouched until he was eye level with his mother, his voice gentle. "Mother, don't calculate it. You'll only get more anxious."
Lin stared blankly at her son. Three years of working at the Shen Mansion had given the boy a composure that sometimes felt strange to her.
But she didn't dare ask about it. All she could do was say, her voice trembling, "Jianghe, what are you planning? Don't do anything foolish. Wang Biao has the Black Water Gang behind him. We can't afford to provoke them!"
Chen Jianghe tugged at the corner of his mouth as if trying to smile, but no smile came. "We won't provoke them. We'll be reasonable and pay according to the rules. Mother, trust me. Haven't we made it through all these years together?"
Here and there, a few oil lamps glimmered across Loach Bay, their light dim and yellow.
Lin felt around for their little oil lamp and lit it. Its flame, no bigger than a bean, flickered and cast shifting shadows across Chen Jianghe's face.
Lin lowered her voice, her fingers absently picking at the edge of her apron. "Jianghe, just tell me the truth. What are you planning to do?"
Chen Jianghe looked at his mother's anxious face and fell silent for a moment.
At last, he spoke in a low voice. "Mother, my day labor contract at the Shen Mansion is nearly up. I'll get my final wages in a few days."
Lin nodded. "I remember. Uncle Liu even said last time that he was thinking of getting you a long-term contract."
"I don't want one," Chen Jianghe said bluntly.
Lin understood. Her lips began to tremble. "You still want to learn martial arts?"
"It's the only way out."
Lin looked at Chen Jianghe, then nodded. "Mother believes in you. When you get your wages, if they still aren't enough, I'll find a way to make up the difference."
Night fell quickly over Loach Bay, dark and heavy.
After settling Lin in for the night, Chen Jianghe sat alone at the bow. He took out the written agreement and read it once more. Then he tore it to shreds, bit by bit, and scattered the pieces into the river.
He stood and entered the cramped cabin. From beneath the bed planks, he pulled out a small cloth bundle. Inside was the money he had saved from three years of work. He counted it. It was still a little short of ten taels.
Ten taels was just enough to cover the martial arts school's tuition.
He wrapped the silver up again and put it back where it belonged. Then, from a broken wooden chest in the corner, he took out the Butchery Blade he had used for three years. Its blade had been honed to a bright shine, gleaming coldly in the gloom.
Three years. In the Shen Mansion's slaughterhouse, he had butchered pigs, sheep, and cattle. At first, he could barely hold a knife steady. By the end, he could close his eyes and feel where every bone lay and how every tendon ran.
[Skill: Butchery (Mastery)]
[Effect: Insight into flesh, sinews, bones, joints, and vital points]
Used on livestock, it was a trade. Used on people...
Chen Jianghe slid the knife into the back of his waistband and covered it with his clothes. Then he found a piece of old cloth and wrapped it over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed.
He slipped out of the cabin without a sound and glided into the night like a water snake.
He knew where Wang Biao would go tonight.
At the eastern end of Loach Bay stood a cluster of boat-houses that were a little more orderly than the rest. Wang Biao went there to "drink" every day.
Chen Jianghe knew the dark alley he had to pass through. Crooked, dilapidated plank houses stood on either side, piled high with junk. Few people walked through it even in daylight, and at night it was so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.
He crouched behind a heap of torn fishing nets deep in the alley and didn't move.
The river wind rushed through the alley with a wailing sound, drowning out his faint breaths.
After an unknowable stretch of time, unsteady footsteps sounded at the entrance, accompanied by a slurred hum.
"Damn it! That widow's got some strength!"
It was Wang Biao, drunk.
Chen Jianghe slowly rose and stepped out of the shadows, blocking the middle of the alley.
Wang Biao squinted and stared for a while before making out a figure. He cursed thickly, "Who the hell's blocking the way? Get lost!"
Chen Jianghe said nothing. He only took a step forward.
At last, Wang Biao sensed something was wrong. Some of the drunkenness left his eyes as he reached for his waist. "You..."
Before he could finish, Chen Jianghe moved.
There was no flourish, not even much sound. He simply turned aside to dodge Wang Biao's half-drawn short blade, then shot out his left hand and seized Wang Biao's right wrist with precision.
Before Wang Biao could react, Chen Jianghe had already drawn the Butchery Blade with his right hand.
A flash of steel streaked through the darkness.
He didn't chop or slash. He simply guided the blade along the side of Wang Biao's neck, into the gap between a raised tendon and the vertebra, and pushed it in gently.
Wang Biao's eyes bulged. A strange, choking gurgle came from his throat.
He tried to shout, but no sound came out.
Chen Jianghe let go. Wang Biao fell to the ground like a log, his body twitching twice before going still.
The whole thing had taken no more than two or three breaths.
Chen Jianghe crouched and wiped some of Wang Biao's blood onto the short blade, then tossed it beside the body. After that, he searched Wang Biao.
The purse held a few taels of silver and several dozen copper coins. Chen Jianghe weighed it in his hand and put it in his pocket. He also found a wooden Black Tiger Gang badge and casually tossed it into the foul-smelling ditch nearby.
Once he was done, he didn't leave at once. Instead, he used the knife tip to make several cuts of varying depth near the wound on Wang Biao's neck. Then he brought the knife's handle down hard on Wang Biao's chest, temple, and throat, striking until he heard the faint crack of breaking bones.
Finally, in the faint light spilling in from the alley entrance, he carefully wiped the blood from the blade.
He pulled a small paper packet from his pocket and poured out some white powder. It was quicklime he had smuggled out of the Shen Mansion slaughterhouse. He rubbed it over the blade, then wiped it clean.
Only then did he stand and slide the knife back into his waistband.
He walked to the mouth of the alley and paused, glancing back.
Wang Biao's body lay curled in the shadows. The later cuts obscured the wound on his neck, making it look as if he had been hacked to death.
The blows to his chest and head looked like someone had taken revenge on him after he was dead.
Perfect? No. But in a world chaotic enough, and with the killing looking enough like a gang feud, it would do.