Every Trade Had Its Way of Surviving

In the Great Xin Dynasty, the three teachings and nine schools, every trade and profession, each had its own way of surviving!

People in these trades started out trying to earn a living. Those who hoped to make a name for themselves learned that any trade practiced out in the world had a few killing techniques. Together, these skills were known as Great Xin Martial Arts.

The Netherworld Office trade, for instance, had plenty of uncanny methods and exceedingly strange ways to kill.

The Daoists and Buddhist Temples, too, each had their own methods of training and killing.

But whatever the trade, a master's lineage mattered. Without taking a master, where could you learn the real skills that put food on the table?

The upper three teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—and mysterious trades such as feng shui masters, corpse drivers, and Paper Effigy Makers were all rare opportunities. A master was hard to find. These skills were usually passed down through families; if they weren't in your fate, you went without.

In the Great Xin Dynasty, though, which fighting arts were easiest to learn?

The martial trades.

Xingyi Bagua, Baji Tantui... Escorting shipments, working as a House Guard or a Red Pole.

They were easy to learn but hard to master, and they weren't cheap. Still, martial arts schools were everywhere, making this the easiest trade in which to find a master.

Of course, "easy" was relative.

Finding a good master was no simple matter.

It was merely easier than in other trades people relied on to make a living.

And anyone who wanted to make a name for himself would still have to swallow plenty of hardship.

But first things first. I need a cart to take jobs and pay back what I owe Auntie.

Then I'll save up, find a Martial Artist to teach me, and learn some moves.

A skill can earn me a living, but if I want to stay alive and safe—or make something of myself—I have to know how to fight.

So Qin Geng thought.

Looking at the glowing screen before him, he felt he had something to look forward to.

The hot porridge settled in his stomach. Warmth spread through him, driving out the last of the cold and the weakness left by his injuries.

Qin Geng held the coarse pottery bowl and drank the last drop of rice broth. He let out a long breath.

His exhaustion and hunger had eased, but his excitement only grew sharper.

His attention sank into the illusory screen before his eyes, which only he could see.

[Book of a Hundred Trades]

Those three characters, ancient and plain, seemed to hold some indescribable truth. They filled him with awe.

He turned the line beneath them over and over in his mind: [Everyone in this world has a trade; practiced with diligence, a trade can reach spirits and gods.]

Practiced with diligence...

He murmured the words and stared into space.

More than half an hour slipped by.

While he was lost in thought, the shack's battered wooden door creaked open.

A cold gust swept in, carrying the earthy smell of the street. Five men filed through the door, led by Xu Chun.

Qin Geng's heart tightened. He hurriedly sat up straight.

Xu Chun's face was dark as a raincloud. One cheek was badly swollen, and a trace of blood still marked the corner of his mouth.

The four men behind him looked much the same. Every one of them was bruised and disheveled. One had a black eye, as though he had taken a vicious blow.

Beside Xu Chun walked an even more powerfully built middle-aged man named Jin He. He was loyal and usually quiet, but he had the strongest arms in the shack.

Jin He could have earned far more as a dock laborer. But Xu Chun had once helped him, so he had stayed here pulling carts instead.

His name made up half of Xu Jin's Shanty.

The others were fellow villagers who had come from the countryside with Xu Chun and Jin He. They stuck together in Tianjin, seeking warmth in one another's company while they scraped out a living.

The mood inside the shack turned stifling. The air was thick with sweat, medicinal liquor, and anger barely held in check.

"Uncle Xu... Uncle Jin..."

Qin Geng's voice was dry. Seeing their injuries, his heart sank. "None of you got hurt too badly, did you?"

What he feared most was seeing someone with a broken arm or leg.

In this place where nine rivers met, a man's hands and feet were his lifeline. Lose the use of them, and his life was as good as over.

Thankfully, everyone still appeared to have all their limbs. None seemed permanently disabled.

Xu Chun said nothing. He walked over and gave Qin Geng's shoulder a heavy pat with his uninjured hand.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, all that came out was a long sigh.

"We weren't hurt too badly. At least we got to vent some anger."

Xu Chun's voice was hoarse, weighted with an exhaustion hard to describe. "But we couldn't get the rickshaw back."

"Boss Lin has spoken."

Xu Chun went on, helplessness and resentment in his eyes. "You crossed into their territory to take fares first. You broke the rules. Lai Tou's side was merely teaching you a lesson on behalf of South City Carriage House. That's the end of it."

"Damn it!"

Jin He spat. The movement tugged at the cut on his lip, making him grimace. "Lai Tou hits viciously. You call that a lesson? The bastard was trying to beat Xiao Wu to death!"

"Enough. Say no more."

Xu Chun stopped him gruffly, then pushed something in through the door behind him.

Screech—

A harsh scraping sound rang out as an old cart was pushed in front of Qin Geng.

"Boss Lin said you couldn't be left without a livelihood."

Xu Chun pointed at the cart, his tone betraying neither joy nor sorrow. "He got you an old cart. It counts as a rental from the carriage house. I paid three months' rent."

Qin Geng's gaze settled on the cart and stayed there.

His new rickshaw had been a proper passenger rickshaw.

Its brass handles had been polished so brightly they dazzled in the sun.

The body had been finished in fine black lacquer. Its leather seat was stuffed with cotton and comfortable to sit in.

Most important were its two solid rubber tires. They ran fast and steady over the flagstones, with hardly a jolt.

With a rickshaw like that, he could wait for fares outside the grand restaurants and foreign firms, picking up generous gentlemen and ladies.

The tip from a single trip could equal half a day's earnings for an ordinary Carriage Driver.

What stood before him now was a handcart.

Its two weathered wooden handles had been worn glossy, with fine cracks running through them.

Boards of uneven thickness had been fitted together to make the bed. Dried mud and stains of unknown origin filled the gaps.

Its two wooden wheels were unusually large, each wrapped in a thin band of iron. One seemed warped, leaving the whole cart slightly tilted.

The thing could scarcely be called a vehicle. It looked more like a tool for hauling freight.

Pulling it meant carrying heavy loads at the docks or hauling coal and odds and ends for people. It meant doing the hardest, most exhausting work for the least pay.

The change from a passenger rickshaw to a handcart was more than a change of vehicle. It was a fall in status.

The others in the shack stared at the handcart, their anger and humiliation deepening.

How was this a solution? It was an insult.

Yet, to everyone's surprise, after a moment of silence, Qin Geng showed none of the despair or dejection they had expected.

He slowly stood, walked up to the cart, and ran a hand over its rough wooden handles. Then he pushed it a couple of steps, feeling its wheels creak.

He was disappointed. He was resentful.

But a strange thought occupied him even more.

As long as I have a cart... As long as I'm still pulling one... my experience will rise...

He could almost see the experience bar beside [Carriage Driver (Level Four)] inching forward—slowly, but surely—because he was handling this cart.

"Uncle Xu."

Qin Geng turned to Xu Chun, his eyes frighteningly calm. "How much is the rent? Count it as a loan from you."

"What are you saying, child?"

Xu Chun frowned. "You got beaten, and they took your rickshaw. I couldn't even help you settle the score. That's shameful enough. How can you bring up money?"

"Uncle Xu, that's not how the accounts work."

Qin Geng shook his head, his tone firm. "In Tianjin Guard, rules are what matter. I got greedy and went into someone else's territory to snatch a living. I broke the rules. I got beaten and lost my rickshaw because I wasn't capable enough. I can't blame anyone else. Boss Lin has spoken, so the matter is settled. Renting this cart is my own affair, and I have to bear the cost myself."

He spoke without servility or arrogance, his reasoning clear.

Xu Chun, Jin He, and the others were stunned.

They had not expected the shy, withdrawn boy to emerge from such an ordeal without being crushed. Instead, he seemed to have grown up in an instant.

Qin Geng said no more. He went to the handcart, gripped its handles with both hands, and lifted hard.

The old cart gave a groan as he raised it steadily.

"Uncle Xu, Uncle Jin, you should all put some medicine on those wounds and rest."

Qin Geng said, "I'll take the cart out for a spin, wait for a fare, and see how it handles."

"Xiao Wu, you..."

Jin He was about to say more, but Xu Chun reached out and stopped him.

Xu Chun watched Qin Geng's departing back. Approval flickered through his clouded eyes. "Go on, Xiao Wu. This time, make sure you know your stand."

A "stand" was a pickup spot—the ground on which Carriage Drivers like them made their living.

Xu Chun was reminding him not to make the same mistake again.

"Got it."

Qin Geng smiled and answered.

He pulled up the handcart. Its weight made him stagger, but he quickly steadied himself.

Without looking back, Qin Geng pulled the battered cart, so ill-matched to his slight frame, out of the shack. Step by swaying step, he disappeared at the end of the narrow, dim alley.

Only when he was out of sight did the shack's stifled anger finally burst forth.

"Damn it! That Boss Lin is a beast too! He's playing favorites!"

One man punched the mud wall, sending flakes of plaster tumbling. "Lai Tou gave him two women, and now the bastard's firmly on his side!"

"Xiao Wu's voice is hoarse. Lai Tou really didn't hold back."

"What the hell is this? Are we just going to let them bully us for nothing?"

Jin He listened to their protests, his face livid. He turned to Xu Chun. "Old Xu, can you really swallow this?"

"If I can't, what can I do?"

Xu Chun sat down in a corner and took a tobacco pipe from his coat, but he could not get it lit.

"This is Tianjin, where nine rivers meet. The three teachings and nine schools are mixed together, dragons among fish. The rules carry more weight than the law! Xiao Wu understands that. Don't you?"

"I know the rules!"

Jin He's voice was rough. "I also know my brother was beaten and his rickshaw stolen! I can't swallow it!"

"Old Jin!"

Xu Chun jerked his head up. "Calm down! Boss Lin has only just taken office. His seat isn't secure, so he needs people like Lai Tou to be his dogs, biting everyone in sight to establish his authority. Going against him now would be throwing an egg at a rock! Have you forgotten how Old Eight from Ma Village Shack sank into the Tianjin River three years ago?"

At the mention of Old Eight, Jin He's fury faltered. Wariness replaced the anger on his face.

Xu Chun sighed, his tone softening. "I know none of us can swallow this. But we have families to support. We came from the countryside to make a living. Endure it and wait. Fortune's wheel keeps turning. Lai Tou's so busy clinging to power that he's offended everyone. Sooner or later, his master will kick that dog aside."

He tapped his pipe against the sole of his shoe and stood. "Enough. Don't stand around here. Put medicine on your wounds and rest if you need to. The rest of you, come wait for fares with me. Life goes on."

"All right."

"Got it, Brother Chun."

They still felt wronged, but they knew Xu Chun was telling the truth. They dispersed, and the shack returned to its usual quiet, though a shadow lingered in the air.

Qin Geng pulled the handcart along Tianjin's uneven flagstone streets.

With every turn, the wheels went creak, creak, like an old man struggling to catch his breath.

The noise drew looks from fellow drivers and idlers by the roadside. Some were sympathetic, some gleeful at his misfortune, and some openly contemptuous.

Qin Geng paid them no mind.

All his attention was on pulling the cart.

He could clearly feel how his arm muscles worked, how his back and waist supported the load, and how his legs needed to move to pull the heavy cart with less effort.

Meanwhile, on the screen in his mind, the experience bar for [Carriage Driver] rose slowly but steadily, visibly inching forward.

[Experience: (13/40)]

[Experience: (14/40)]

Every sway, every exertion, every turn of the wheels seemed to lay another brick in the road to his future.

The feeling was wondrous. It washed away the sting of other people's looks and soothed the last trace of humiliation in his heart.

Following his memory, Qin Geng passed through several alleys and arrived at a place called Nine Harmony Restaurant.

It was not a top-tier establishment, but its location was good. Merchants came from north and south, and there was money to be made.

Seven or eight passenger rickshaws were already parked at odd angles in the open space outside.

Some were new and gleaming; others had peeling paint.

Some drivers wore smart vests; others were dressed in rags like Qin Geng.

Qin Geng took his handcart to the very end of the line, to the least conspicuous spot.

He sat down on a step. When a young restaurant worker spotted him, the worker brought out a large chipped bowl without a word. It was filled to the brim with strong tea.

"Brother Xiao Wu, have some tea. Warm yourself up."

"Thanks."

Qin Geng took the bowl and thanked him.

A bowl that size would have cost at least one copper coin in a teahouse.

Here, though, Qin Geng did not have to pay.

Carriage Drivers like them had a nickname in Tianjin: "threaders."

They carried all sorts of people through streets and alleys. In a single day, they heard and saw more excitement than a storyteller could recount.

Which merchant house had received new goods, which official had taken yet another concubine, what strange event had occurred on which street—they heard it all firsthand.

So shops that did business with the public were happy to do these "threaders" a small favor. A bowl of tea and a few polite words cost little, but might earn some goodwill.

Maybe one day, he would hear something useful from them.

The same went for Master Xin and the other loafers who scraped a living on the streets.

Of course, carriage drivers had an iron rule of their own, summed up in eight words: zip your lips, let the wind pass your ears.

Passengers talked about everything under the sun. It might be family gossip, or it might be business that could cost someone their head.

As a driver, whatever you heard had to blow past your ears like a gust of wind, leaving no trace behind.

And your lips had to stay zipped. Swallow every secret and let it rot in your belly.

A driver who could not keep his mouth shut would never last in the trade.

At best, he would lose his passengers' trust, and no one would ride with him. At worst, one careless remark could bring death down on his head before he knew it, and he would end up at the bottom of the Tianjin River, feeding the fish.

But rules were dead things, and people were alive.

Even information that was not supposed to spread had "dead lines" and "live lines."

A "live line" was harmless gossip: some boss was afraid of his wife, or some famous performer had a taste for men.

Such tidbits were worth little and caused no great harm if repeated. Drivers sometimes traded them for a few drinks.

A "dead line," on the other hand, was information that could truly get someone killed.

That sort of information could never be sold privately.

By the rules, it had to be reported to the Boss, who would pass it up to the carriage yard's Dragon Head.

The Dragon Head would bundle the information according to its value and sell it, taking responsibility for whatever followed.

Anyone who dared sell a "dead line" on his own broke the rules of the entire trade. Everyone would turn on him, and his fate was often worse than if he had offended the passenger.

He might live long enough to take the money, but not long enough to spend it.

Qin Geng cradled a great bowl in his hands and sipped his hot tea, his eyes fixed on the lead carriage outside the restaurant.

After three years as a driver, he knew these ways inside and out.

Last time, he had gone to the ferry landing to snatch a fare because he was desperate to earn money and pay his debts. Greed had gotten the better of him, and Lai Tou, who had long disliked him, had caught him red-handed. That was how he had gotten his feet wet.

Once bitten, twice shy. He would not stumble over the same stone again.

As the saying went, "When the lead carriage rings, ten thousand taels of gold follow."

The stand at Nine Harmony Restaurant was shared by Xu Jin's Shanty and another outfit called Ma Village Shack.

The drivers from both shanties took turns waiting here, and seniority determined their place in line.

The first carriage was called the "lead carriage," or the "dragon head."

Its driver was usually the most experienced man, with the strongest reputation on the streets.

The rule was simple: until the lead carriage moved and took a passenger, none of the carriages behind it could move.

Even if someone stepped out of the restaurant in a sable cloak, plainly a fat sheep of a fare, you had to watch without going up to solicit him.

That first rich fare belonged to the lead carriage.

Only after its driver had taken a passenger and pulled away could the others start taking fares in order.

If a rich passenger came along then, getting him was a matter of your own skill and luck.

Qin Geng was in no hurry. He waited quietly, like a patient hunter.

When he finished his tea, he returned the bowl to the young attendant, shifted over, and drew close to a skinny boy beside him.

The boy was Li Gou. Like Qin Geng, he was an orphan with neither father nor mother, picked up by an old man from the shanty.

He had been a driver even longer than Qin Geng—five years in all. By rights, Qin Geng ought to have called him elder brother. But Qin Geng had an aunt who had married into Jinmen City as a concubine, which counted as quite a background among drivers who had mostly come from poverty.

So although Li Gou was a few years older, he had always politely called him "Brother Xiao Wu."

"Brother Xiao Wu, are you... all right?"

Li Gou looked at Qin Geng, then glanced at the shabby flatbed cart beside him, his eyes full of sympathy. "That bastard Lai Tou went too far."

"If I weren't all right, would I be out here waiting for fares?"

Qin Geng smiled and patted his chest, speaking as if it were nothing.

"That's good!"

Li Gou seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, then cursed indignantly, "That dog-begotten Lai Tou will get his legs broken and be thrown into the Tianjin River one day! With Boss Lin backing him, he's practically stopped giving us the time of day."

After grumbling for a while, he suddenly lowered his voice and said to Qin Geng with an air of mystery, "Hey, Brother Xiao Wu, let me tell you something. At noon I picked up a big fare to Jinmen City, and something huge happened! You might even know the man involved."

"Who? Someone from the city?"

Qin Geng's interest stirred.

"A House Guard from Su Cloth Shop. What was his name... oh, right, Zhou Yonghe!"

Li Gou's face lit up as he spoke. "What a sight he was! A black fur coat, slick and glossy, cowhide boots on his feet—he made the wind follow him when he walked! Brother Xiao Wu, didn't your aunt marry into the Su Family? Do you know this House Guard of theirs? Are you close?"

"House Guard" was trade jargon for the fighters and killers employed by major firms, great families, and powerful gangs to handle trouble and hold the fort. They were something like stewards and bodyguards combined.

Qin Geng curled his lip and shook his head. "Never met him."

His aunt was said to have married into the Su Family, but in truth she was an unwelcome concubine who could barely get out of their front gate. Qin Geng himself only got a chance to see her at the back door during holidays and festivals, hoping for a little spending money.

How would he know someone as important as the Su Family's House Guard?

Nor was Qin Geng the sort to slap his face swollen to look like a fat man. If he did not know someone, he did not know him.

"Tsk."

Li Gou was a little disappointed, but his own story soon fired him up again. "You know what happened next? Halfway there, two foreign devils suddenly sprang out of an alley with those black guns that spit fire, and they shot at Master Zhou's carriage!"

"Foreign devils? With guns?"

Qin Geng was startled. He leaned forward without realizing it.

"You bet!"

Li Gou slapped his thigh, his voice shooting up an octave. "Bang, bang! Two shots, louder than New Year's firecrackers! My calves cramped up right there. Lucky my feet were quick and my eyes were sharp. I gave the handles a hard yank and pulled the carriage aside. That was the only reason Zhou Yonghe didn't get shot in the head!"

"And then?"

Qin Geng pressed him, curious.

He paid particular attention to tales of Martial Artists and other experts, though he also knew Li Gou was probably boasting about how fast he had run and reacted.

With his nerve, it would have been impressive if he had not wet his pants.

"Then it got even wilder!"

Li Gou was in full swing, spittle flying. "Master Zhou jumped down from the carriage. He'd clearly taken several bullets, and blood had dyed his clothes red, but he acted like nothing had happened! Those two foreign devils tried to shoot again, but hah, too late! Master Zhou moved like a wildcat. Whoosh! He was on them. In one move, he tore one of the foreign devils apart alive!"

"Tore him apart alive?"

Qin Geng sucked in a cold breath, his eyes widening.

"That's right!"

Li Gou gestured as he spoke, fear and excitement mingling on his face. "He grabbed both shoulders and pulled hard. Riiip! Tsk, you should've seen it. Flesh and blood flew everywhere! Guts spilled all over the ground!"

"Good heavens... now there was a fearsome man."

Qin Geng murmured to himself, stormy waves surging through his heart.

The man had survived several gunshots, then torn another man apart with his bare hands.

That went beyond anything Qin Geng knew of "warriors." It sounded more like the demons and monsters in storybooks.

Qin Geng could not help wondering: if he learned martial arts and paired them with this blasted Book of a Hundred Trades, might he someday master such heaven-reaching abilities too?

His body was small and frail, but the Book of a Hundred Trades could raise levels and grant talents.

If a Carriage Driver could gain [Swift Travel] and [Endless Breath], what about the profession of [Warrior]?

Might it have talents like [Indestructible Diamond Body] or [Infinite Strength]?

For a moment, Qin Geng's mind raced with possibilities.

"Pity, though."

Li Gou smacked his lips, his face full of regret. "Master Zhou's attendant kept urging me to pull the carriage away, so I didn't get the chance. Otherwise, I'd have gone over and collected some blood. I've heard that eating corn buns dipped in a foreign devil's blood can cure a hundred diseases!"

That brought Qin Geng back from his daydream. He shot Li Gou a sidelong glance and exposed him without mercy. "More like your legs went weak with fright and you pulled the carriage away as fast as you could. If you hadn't been scared, knowing you, you'd have stood there watching the spectacle. Wouldn't Master Zhou have tipped you afterward? And once you had that tip, wouldn't you have gone straight to Old Wang's on the street corner for a great steaming bowl of lamb-and-bread soup?"

"Haha..."

Caught out, Li Gou gave a couple of dry laughs but showed no embarrassment. He scratched his head and went on, "Hey, Brother Xiao Wu, you've got relatives in the city, so you've seen more than I have. Tell me, can foreigners' blood really cure sickness better than the blood of us Great Xin Dynasty folk?"

"Who knows?"

Qin Geng shrugged, about to tease him some more.

Jingle, jingle—

A clear bell rang out.

The lead driver at the very front of the line had shaken the copper bell hanging from his carriage handles.

The "dragon head had sounded": he had taken the first fare and was about to leave.

The drivers behind him could get ready to take passengers.

Every driver, Qin Geng and Li Gou included, perked up and immediately stopped talking. One after another, they straightened their backs and stared at Nine Harmony Restaurant's doors, eyes blazing like a pack of hungry wolves waiting to be fed.

Qin Geng stood too and went to his flatbed cart. Gripping its handles, he said to Li Gou, "Time to wait for fares. Don't complain later that I stole your passenger with a flatbed cart."

"Tch."

Li Gou curled his lip and looked Qin Geng's battered cart up and down. "With that thing? I'll let you go first today. Can't have Brother Xiao Wu starving to death."