Harassment

When lunch was served at noon, the kitchen, as usual, gave Xu Qing a heaping bowl of meat.

Braised pork and fried eggs, glistening with oil, steamed as their savory fragrance drifted everywhere, drawing the eyes of all the senior and junior brothers in the courtyard.

"Meat again..." someone muttered in the corner, keeping his voice low. "What use is eating so well when he can't even reach Dark Force?"

"Exactly. Lighting a lamp for a blind man—wasting wax." Another person chimed in, jabbing his chopsticks into his bowl with clattering thumps.

"Shh, keep it down. He'll hear you."

"So what if he hears? I'm telling the truth. The martial hall's silver didn't blow in on the wind. Spending it on someone like him..."

The voices were neither loud nor soft, just enough to drift into Xu Qing's ears.

Holding his bowl, Xu Qing continued eating without changing expression. A bite of meat, a bite of white steamed bun—he chewed earnestly and swallowed steadily. It was as if those words were no more than a few flies buzzing past his ears, not worth raising a hand to shoo away.

Qin Liang sat beside him, his mouth stuffed with cabbage and tofu as he said indistinctly, "Those people are just jealous. You got the hang of stance training in half an incense stick's time—can they do that? No. So all they can do is get their kicks with their mouths."

Xu Qing smiled but did not reply. He picked a piece of meat from his bowl and placed it in Qin Liang's.

Qin Liang's eyes lit up. He chuckled twice, stuffed it into his mouth in one go, and chewed with puffed cheeks like a toad, squinting for a long while, reluctant to swallow.

On the stone mill in the corner, Zhou Wen and Xu Qing sat facing each other.

Zhou Wen picked through the cabbage and tofu in his bowl with his chopsticks, his eyes carrying a hint of mockery as he jerked his chin toward Xu Qing.

"Junior Brother Xu, Senior Brother Wu made it clear—the news from the inner courtyard is true. That fish-selling cousin of yours is, at best, only at Bright Force."

Lowering his voice, he barely concealed his glee. "See that? Senior Brother Wu doesn't even spare him a proper glance now."

Xu Qing did not answer.

He had been somewhat distracted today. He poked at his bowl a few times with his chopsticks but barely ate anything.

Yesterday, during his day off at home, his mother Tong had pulled him aside, her face wearing a rare look of worry, and told him something: Chen Jiang from Azure Flood Dragon Hall had gone to his second uncle's bun shop to make trouble again, and had nearly come to blows.

His mother had also said that Chen Jiang came by every few days to harass them. The shop's business was visibly worsening, and many regular customers no longer dared come.

When Xu Qing heard it, his heart skipped a beat.

Not because he felt sorry for his second uncle and aunt, but because he had calculated it all clearly: if his second uncle's bun shop did poorly, they would earn less. If they earned less, there would be less money for him to spend in the future. That was all his money—how could he let someone else ruin it?

The moment he arrived at the martial hall this morning, he told Wu Mingyuan about it.

The Wu Clan was a great family in the county town. The people of Azure Flood Dragon Hall did not dare provoke them. As long as Wu Mingyuan was willing to say a word, Chen Jiang would surely never dare act so wildly again.

In Xu Qing's view, this was no more than a word from Wu Mingyuan, as easy as farting.

Yet after hearing him out, Wu Mingyuan merely gave him a bland glance and said, "I know." His tone was neither warm nor cold, and Xu Qing could not tell whether he had agreed or not.

Xu Qing's heart had been in turmoil, and he had been in no mood to practice boxing all morning.

"Junior Brother Xu, I'm talking to you." Zhou Wen waved his chopsticks before him and teased with a smile, "Why do you look so unhappy? Don't tell me you're worried about your cousin? Tsk, tsk, you brothers really are deeply affectionate..."

Xu Qing's expression changed. Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, he squeezed out a stiff voice from his throat.

"Senior Brother Zhou, it's not like you don't know. I have nothing to do with that fish-seller. He eats from my second uncle's family and drinks from my second uncle's family. I've been wanting to settle accounts with him myself." After a pause, he added, "What the hell is he, anyway?"

"Then why are you pulling such a long face?"

"It's nothing." Xu Qing lifted his bowl, took a mouthful of rice, and changed the subject. The rice clogged his mouth; he chewed for a long while, unable to swallow.

After eating, Xu Qing changed into clean clothes, left the martial hall, and headed toward his aunt's bun shop.

Before he even reached the shop, he spotted that nauseating figure from afar—

Chen Jiang.

The man was leaning against the bun shop's counter, half his backside perched on it, his face flushed crimson. The stench of alcohol could be smelled from half a street away.

A toothpick hung from his mouth, one leg crossed over the other, while one foot shook restlessly. With a leering grin, he was saying something.

His eyes kept darting toward Xu Yan. That look was like a mangy dog spotting a meat bone—sticky and greasy, impossible to shake off.

Xu Yan kept her head down as she worked, her face livid, lips pressed tightly together. She did not look at him even once.

Xu Cheng stood nearby, a stiff smile piled onto his face as he apologized again and again. "Master Chen, you're a great man with great tolerance. Yan'er doesn't know any better, so please don't lower yourself to her level. Eat as many buns as you like. I'll wrap up a few big meat buns for you to take back..."

"Doesn't know any better?" Chen Jiang snickered, pulled the toothpick from his mouth, and flicked it against the counter. It bounced once and fell to the floor. He reached for Xu Yan's face. "That's why she needs teaching. Yan'er, come here. Let your master teach you..."

Xu Yan abruptly dodged away. The rag in her hand cracked against the counter with a smack, splashing water everywhere. Dirty water splattered across Chen Jiang's face and trickled down his nose.

Chen Jiang's expression changed.

He wiped his face, slowly rubbed the water from his hand onto his clothes, and the smile vanished entirely from his face.

Bar­ing his yellow teeth, he snorted coldly. His voice reeked of liquor. "Xu Yan, don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit. It's your good fortune that I've taken a fancy to you! Let me tell you, my brother-in-law is the gang's deputy leader! Even if I sleep with you right now, nobody would dare say a damn thing!"

His voice was loud, loud enough that he seemed to be deliberately announcing it to the entire street.

Several pedestrians hurriedly quickened their pace, lowering their heads as they passed the shop as though they had seen nothing. The neighbors watching the show also hurriedly looked away, pretending to busy themselves with their work, pretending they had heard nothing.

Xu Yan's face instantly turned pale. Her lips trembled and her eyes reddened, but she stubbornly refused to let the tears fall.

"Master Chen, you've had too much to drink. Sit down first, and I'll pour you a cup of tea—" Xu Cheng suppressed his fury, his voice shaking, yet he still reached out to grab Chen Jiang's arm.

"Get lost!"

Chen Jiang shoved Xu Cheng away, his hand striking him squarely in the chest.

Xu Cheng staggered back two steps, tripped underfoot, and his lower back hit the doorframe with a thud.

Pain made him bare his teeth, and his face went white. One hand braced against the frame, he could not straighten his back for a long while.

With reddened eyes, Xu Yan ran into the back room, the curtain snapping shut with a smack.

Chen Jiang spat at the curtain and cursed, shouting things like "stinking bitch," "slutty vixen," and "ungrateful whore." Every word seemed dredged from a cesspit, foul and venomous.

Then he viciously shoved Xu Cheng again, sending him crashing into the doorframe once more, before he finally staggered away. He continued muttering, "Ungrateful bastard... I'll come again tomorrow..."

Xu Qing stood motionless in the shadows of the alley, like a stake nailed into the ground.

He watched Chen Jiang's retreating back, swaying and lurching with every step, like a maggot bloated from overeating. He watched his uncle slowly straighten up while holding the doorframe. He watched his aunt poke her head out from the back room, her eyes red and tears hanging on her face.

His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white, his joints cracking loudly.

He wanted to kill.

Rage, hatred, and that cold, unshakable killing intent seeping from the cracks of his bones.

But now was not the time. People still came and went on the street; this was not a place to kill. Nor could he make a move here. He could not drag his aunt and uncle down with him.

He took a deep breath and suppressed the fire in his chest, engraving that face and that name deep into his bones.

Then he turned and vanished into the alley.

He did not return to the martial hall for the entire afternoon.

Like a shadow, he followed Chen Jiang.

Chen Jiang first wandered through several streets in the western district, collecting protection money from several shops.

Then he entered a tavern, ordered a jug of wine and two small dishes, and drank by himself for half an hour. When he emerged, his face was even redder, his steps had begun to sway, and he hummed a tuneless little song.

Next, he turned into an alley and knocked on a door several times. A heavily made-up woman opened it and smilingly pulled him inside. The door closed, and flirtatious laughter and the clinking of wine bowls drifted from within.

By the time Chen Jiang came out, dusk had already fallen.

He had his arm around the woman's waist. After giving her face a grope, he staggered away. The woman leaned against the doorframe and waved her handkerchief at him before turning back inside.

Xu Qing followed from afar.

Chen Jiang walked through two more streets before finally turning into an even more secluded alley and entering a small courtyard.

Xu Qing watched for a long time. Nothing else stirred in that courtyard—no voices, no barking dogs. No one else went in, and no one came out. Chen Jiang lived there alone.

He did not act rashly. The sky had not yet gone fully dark, and there were still people on the streets. It was not yet time to kill.

Standing at the mouth of the alley, he committed the surrounding terrain to memory: the exits, the branching paths, where someone could hide, where a wall could be climbed.

Then he turned toward the martial hall.

On the way back, the night wind was cold against his face, but it could not disperse the fire in his heart.

His steps were steady, his breathing even, and his face showed no expression.