Borrowing to Pull a Rickshaw

July weather could change at the drop of a hat.

In a southern metropolis like Peace City,

the morning might bring clear skies stretching for miles, only for the afternoon to turn cloudy with showers.

A torrential downpour swallowed the entire bustling city in a curtain of rain.

The rain pattered and rustled.

On the gloomy streets, pedestrians hurried along.

Jiang Jingnian splashed through uneven puddles, pulling a brand-new rickshaw behind him. In the sweltering heat, his sweat fell like rain, mingling with the fine droplets until he was soaked through to the bone.

The rickshaw's brown oilcloth curtain kept out most of the rain, but a little still drifted inside. A pretty young schoolgirl sat within, wearing an indanthrene-blue qipao. She frowned at the curtain of rain outside and shifted the embroidered blue-satin schoolbag from her lap toward the back of the seat.

"Jiang, could you go a little faster?"

Su Wanzhi attended the East City Mission Girls' School. She had gone home at noon to pick up some materials for her afternoon classes.

She had never expected the heavens to refuse their cooperation on her return journey, suddenly unleashing a heavy downpour.

Hearing her, Jiang Jingnian turned his head and put on a smile. "Miss Su, I know a shortcut, but it's rough going. It's a dirt road, and plenty of water collects there when it rains. The ride might not be very smooth. You'll get bounced around a bit."

"That's fine. I'm in a hurry, so the faster, the better. I can pay extra."

Anxiety showed on Su Wanzhi's face.

"Right you are!"

Jiang Jingnian nodded.

Then he pulled the rickshaw off the main road and through another alley.

There was certainly a shorter route to the East City Mission Girls' School.

But it went straight through the impoverished Stockade in the eastern part of the city. Unlike other districts, the Stockade straddled the boundary between the foreign concessions and Chinese-administered territory. It was a no-man's-land where no authority took responsibility, and public security had always been poor.

Never mind Su Wanzhi-even a sturdy young man like Jiang Jingnian did not dare go there.

Still, while he dared not take the most direct route,

a shortcut skirting the edge of the Stockade posed no problem.

Within moments, Jiang Jingnian had threaded through the alleys and was running along the shortcut with his rickshaw.

The farther out he went, the rougher the road became, until only a dirt track remained, cutting through several whole neighborhoods.

He was strong and fit, and even on the muddy road, his feet flew.

But in the blink of an eye, yellow mud had stained his trouser legs from top to bottom.

This was Su Wanzhi's first time on the rugged road, too. She gripped the seat's armrests tightly to keep herself from tumbling out.

Enduring the discomfort, she glanced idly outside.

A few shabby makeshift shelters stood scattered in the grass on either side of the road. Open on all sides, they let the cold wind howl straight through and kept out only some of the rain.

Inside lay numerous dark figures, covered with ragged mats. Amid the rain pouring down in columns, they resembled charred tree trunks, without the slightest sign of life.

"...The people lying in those shelters aren't all dead, are they?"

Su Wanzhi blinked her lovely eyes, uncertainty and alarm flickering in her gaze.

"No."

"They're just refugees from elsewhere who fled here after famine struck their hometowns."

"They have no homes and no work permits for Peace City, so they can only survive on relief from the Stockade. There aren't many places inside the Stockade that offer shelter from the wind and rain, so some of them have to lie in those roadside shelters."

Jiang Jingnian's short hair was drenched. There was no telling rain from sweat on his face. He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, answering Miss Su's questions as he ran.

Most of Peace City belonged to concessions held by people from the Western Ocean.

And in the concessions, the rules and laws were made by foreigners.

Work permits were one of them.

Even a rickshaw puller or a dock porter needed a work permit. Furthermore, they could not enter any trade other than the one specified on their permit.

As for refugees from elsewhere who had neither identification nor household registration,

they could not legally work here at all. Their only choices were to work off the books or sign contracts selling themselves into servitude.

Working off the books

meant certain death if the foreign police caught them, while their employers would also face severe penalties.

As for contracts of servitude,

the gentlemen and ladies of Peace City had no shortage of servants. With their noses held so high, how could they not be picky?

Why would they take in these foul-smelling refugees, their faces sallow and their bodies little more than skin and bones?

"Oh!"

Once Su Wanzhi heard that they were alive, the trace of fear in her eyes vanished. She merely murmured an acknowledgment.

As for how long those refugees could survive in such a state on the Stockade's relief,

that was not something she needed to consider.

About seven or eight minutes passed.

Jiang Jingnian hurried along the muddy road skirting the Stockade, pulling his rickshaw. After crossing the entire neighborhood, he found the roads gradually returning to normal.

Then he crossed a magnificent bridge connecting the two areas and entered the eastern district.

Here,

the foreign police were noticeably more numerous. Even in the rain, their figures could be seen.

Once Jiang Jingnian entered the eastern district, he slowed down.

After all, the roads were full of Model T cars and trams. As a rickshaw puller, he naturally had to give those vehicles room and keep out of their way.

Under a roadside rain shelter stood several women with children. The children were sallow and thin, dressed in coarse clothes covered with patches, with straw markers tied around their heads.

Some neatly dressed young women also wore strands of straw around their heads and looked anxiously outside.

Whenever a car passed,

the people beneath the shelter craned their necks and put on smiles, trying to attract attention.

But it was still raining. Who would roll down a window to look their way?

So some lowered their sights, plucking up the courage to call to the passengers in rickshaws.

"Miss! Gentlemen! Take a look at my child! Hardworking, good at chores, and only eats two steamed buns a meal!"

Hearing the calls, Su Wanzhi opened her curtain a little. But after one glance at the women and children, she drew it shut again.

Her family had bought another two maidservants just last month.

They could not afford to feed any more.

Jiang Jingnian said nothing. He simply kept pulling the rickshaw, soon leaving that street behind and reaching the mission girls' school.

Near the school's main gate,

Jiang Jingnian could go no farther. He came to a steady stop and lowered the rickshaw shafts. "Miss Su, we're here."

By then,

the rain had eased considerably.

That was how summer showers were: quick to come and quick to go.

Su Wanzhi nodded. Looking at the drizzle outside, she opened her oilpaper umbrella and stepped down, then took several silver coins from her bag.

"Here, your fare."

Then she selected the largest of the coins and handed it to Jiang Jingnian.

Looking at the fifty-cent coin in his hand, Jiang Jingnian shook his head. "Miss Su, we agreed earlier that three small silver coins-thirty cents-would be enough."

A rickshaw puller working in the concessions

earned a little more than one in the major cities of other provinces. Of course, prices were considerably higher, too.

This trip had covered almost four kilometers, which worked out to just over thirty cents.

Yet she had given him fifty cents-nearly half a silver dollar.

In a Ten-Li Foreign Quarter like Peace City, half a silver dollar could buy fifteen jin of rice, or cover two and a half days of his rickshaw rental fees.

"The roads are slippery in the rain, and this route was harder than the one we originally agreed on. Jiang, just take it!"

Su Wanzhi shook her head. Without arguing further, she turned and walked toward the school gate beneath her umbrella.

Jiang Jingnian watched her retreating figure, wanting to say something but holding back. Then he wiped the water from his face with the towel over his shoulder, turned, and pulled his rickshaw away.

Several other pretty girls approached, chatting and laughing. They wore the same indanthrene-blue qipaos, carried small bags in various colors, and held oilpaper umbrellas.

As they passed this mud-covered laborer in a short white jacket, his thick arms exposed, they frowned slightly and skirted around him.

One girl with braids blinked at Jiang Jingnian. After looking him up and down, she showed her disgust. "What rotten luck, seeing this fellow even near school. I'll have to have a proper talk with Mother when I get home. He gets filthy every single day, like some mud-legged peasant. How can we let him keep living in our house?"

This braided girl, with her delicate features and graceful figure,

was named Qu Lanlan. By blood, she was Jiang Jingnian's cousin, the daughter of his fifth uncle.

Her surname, however, made it clear that she had taken her mother's name. Jiang Jingnian's fifth uncle had married into his wife's family here in Peace City. Thus, under the local clan system, the two young people were not listed in the same genealogy and did not count as cousins of the same clan.

As far as Qu Lanlan was concerned, Jiang Jingnian was just a poor relative who had come from some remote backwater to sponge off them.

But in the girl's heart, this illiterate village lad did not even deserve to be called a relative. He was nothing but a beggar.

A "beggar" freeloading on her family's food and drink.

Jiang Jingnian ignored that somewhat piercing gaze. To avoid unnecessary trouble and conflict, when he saw Qu Lanlan, he neither met her eyes nor approached her to say hello.

Pulling his rickshaw, he soon disappeared.

Pulling fares on a rainy day was tiring, but demand was higher than usual, and earnings were considerably better.

Having started work at six in the morning, Jiang Jingnian had earned over three silver dollars by the time dusk approached-nearly twice his usual take.

With the money in hand, he did not save it. Instead, he went to a small general store in the eastern district.

The place was a little old, but its wares were neatly arranged.

The shopkeeper was a middle-aged man with a drooping mustache and a queue down his back. Seated with a lit pipe, he puffed out clouds of smoke, looking thoroughly at ease.

"Shopkeeper Li, I'm here to repay the principal and interest for the first half of the month."

Jiang Jingnian went straight up and stacked four silver dollars neatly on the counter.

This was everything he had: today's earnings, plus the few cents left from yesterday. He kept not a single cent for himself.

"Here you are, young Jiang. You're quite good at making money, aren't you? But other fellows pull rickshaws for ten hours. You must work seventeen or eighteen a day, right? Can your body take it? Don't work yourself to death one day before you've paid off what you owe me."

Shopkeeper Li casually picked up the silver dollars, counted them, and tucked them into his clothes.

Squinting his upturned eyes, he looked over the young man before him, whose short white jacket had been stained yellow.

The lad was only eighteen or nineteen, sturdily built, with fairly clean-cut, honest features. Yet an indescribable bitterness hung between his brows. He was a mud-legged laborer through and through.

And he could endure more hardship than the average mud-legged laborer.

Far more hardship.

Whether an ordinary rickshaw puller or a porter hauling goods, a laborer could take home at most twenty-odd silver dollars a month-and that was only if he owned his rickshaw rather than renting it.

If he rented from a rickshaw firm, he also had to pay a fixed rental fee. Taking home a dozen or so silver dollars in a month meant business was already good.

Once food and drink were factored in,

he would scarcely have a few cents left at the end of the month.

But Jiang Jingnian was different. The shopkeeper had seen it himself: the lad could pull a rickshaw for over ten hours without stopping, ran much faster than ordinary pullers, and knew the roads better, like a living map. Shopkeeper Li had personally ridden in Jiang Jingnian's rickshaw and experienced it.

His monthly earnings therefore came to fifty percent more than an ordinary rickshaw puller's, and even more when business was good.

"Don't worry, Shopkeeper Li. I won't short you a single cent of what I owe. Besides, I'm stronger than most people and can endure a little more hardship, so I earn a little more, too."

Jiang Jingnian spoke with a smile, innocently baring his muscular arms for good measure. The sight made Shopkeeper Li nod repeatedly.

This rough fellow was honest and simple, strong and sturdy-the perfect stock for enduring hardship and working like an ox or a horse. Unfortunately, he had identification, household registration, and a work permit. Otherwise, he could have fetched a fine price at the servants' market.

Then again, if he could not repay the money, the man himself would still fetch a good price. After all, he was a respectable fellow with a work permit.

"Shopkeeper, do you think... I could buy that copper ring I saw last time on credit, too?"

Seeing the shopkeeper smile, Jiang Jingnian smiled along with him.

"...Well! You little rascal, with those thick brows and big eyes-you haven't paid off the last debt, and now you want to owe me more?"

Shopkeeper Li glanced at the rough fellow. Though he looked honest, he had a few bad habits.

Some people's vice was smoking opium.

Others gambled in casinos.

Others lingered in pleasure houses.

For ordinary people, falling into any one of those habits would sooner or later cost them everything.

Yet this fellow actually liked collecting strange contraptions and curios, even borrowing money or buying on credit to acquire them. Simply liking to buy things probably did not count as a vice, but borrowing money to buy them certainly did.

He considered it, weighing the silver dollars that had only just warmed against his chest. After today's repayment, the lad still owed twenty-one silver dollars in principal and interest.

But at this rate, he could clear that debt in another two or three months. Extending another twenty or thirty silver dollars' worth of credit would not be particularly difficult.

The old man and the young man haggled in the shop for a good while longer.

Using his own "work permit" as security, Jiang Jingnian signed another IOU for twenty-two silver dollars and acquired the antique ring that the shopkeeper claimed had been left behind by a noble of the previous dynasty.

It was indeed an antique, but it had not belonged to a noble of the previous dynasty.

To avoid letting any hidden treasures slip through his fingers, the shopkeeper had long since asked acquaintances to appraise every item.

This copper ring was worth twelve or thirteen silver dollars at most. He had listed it for thirty-one, then bargained down to twenty-two with Jiang Jingnian. Including the interest to be repaid later, the total came to almost twenty-six silver dollars.

He was still making a tidy profit.

But Jiang Jingnian also felt he had made a tidy profit.

He had bought it with borrowed money.

How could that not count as pure profit?

Besides, Shopkeeper Li was far from his only creditor.

Drawing on the financial perspective of his previous life, he pledged his work permit all over the city and demonstrated his earning power, buying ahead of his means and tearing down the eastern wall to patch the western one.

Granted, a rickshaw puller's work permit and earning power could not secure much of a loan-at most a few dozen silver dollars, as with Shopkeeper Li. But there were so many shops like this!

He was already juggling loans from over a dozen places. To keep the whole thing from blowing up, he had spent the past month and a half borrowing from shops and restaurants in different districts and different trades. Even if someone discovered it one day, that would not happen anytime soon.

The whole game was exploiting gaps in timing and information.

After all, he repaid quickly, had good credit, and borrowed only small sums. Who would go out of their way to spend so much effort investigating him everywhere?

[Name: Jiang Jingnian]

[Trait: Taotie]

[Technique: Tai Chi Nourishing Life Technique (Proficient)]

[Archetype: Ordinary person (96%)]

Jiang Jingnian crouched in the corner of an alley, eating a mutton-filled flatbread, his rickshaw parked beside him. The simple honesty and downtrodden look that had once filled his eyes were gone, leaving only indifference.

Staring at the panel before him, he took the antique ring carved with a flower bud from inside his clothes.

[Flower-Carved Chrysanthemum Ring: One of the heirlooms of a wealthy household in the Chen State. Contains a trace of metal nature that can be devoured and incorporated into a technique.]

A flash passed before his eyes, and in the view only he could see, a trait panel appeared beside the ring.

Then he gently closed his hand around it.

In an instant, he refined it.