The Lead Cart Rings Out, a Foreign Fate Cultivator

The afternoon sun was less fierce than at noon, but it still warmed the skin with the dry heat peculiar to early winter.

In Xu Jin's Shanty, the men stretched and yawned as they climbed off their straw mats.

Qin Geng got up too. He gave his face a quick wipe, his eyes clear, without a trace of sleepiness.

"Let's go."

Qin Geng called out and was the first to lift his cart handles.

Xu Chun, Uncle Jin, and the others followed. They pushed their rickshaws along the hard dirt road, wheels rumbling as they headed for Xun River Wharf.

Along the way, Xu Chun and Uncle Jin kept glancing at Qin Geng's back, plainly wanting to say something.

Uncle Jin had never been good at keeping things bottled up. Worry scratched at him like a cat. After holding it in for a while, he hurried a few steps to Qin Geng's side.

"Xiao Wu."

Uncle Jin lowered his voice, his weather-beaten face full of concern. "We've really offended Boss Lin this time. That old bastard's got a heart smaller than the eye of a needle. What if he makes life hard for us..."

He left the thought unfinished, but everyone knew what he meant.

Boss Lin controlled the cart permits and route assignments. If he wanted to punish them, he had plenty of ways to do it.

Qin Geng kept walking. He merely turned his head a little, a carefree smile tugging at his lips. "Uncle Jin, think about it. Why would we give Boss Lin gifts?"

"To get on his good side, of course. So he won't pick on us."

Uncle Jin answered without thinking.

"And why would we scare him into fearing us?"

Qin Geng asked.

"So... he won't pick on us either?"

Uncle Jin paused.

Qin Geng nodded, his steps steady on the dirt road. "There you have it. Gifts curry favor; intimidation puts fear in him. Different methods, same result: that bastard won't dare touch us."

A cold clarity entered his voice. "But the two aren't the same at the root. Giving gifts means handing him your weak spot to squeeze. The day we stop giving, or his appetite grows, he'll turn on us faster than a page flips. Intimidation's different. That puts a blade to his neck. As long as my fists stay hard and our men stand together, even with three extra sets of guts, he'll have to think twice."

"But... what about the Dragon King Society?"

Xu Chun cut in, his brows knitted tight. "That's a real colossus. In Tianjin, Jiang Hailong's name can stop a child crying at night."

"Uncle Xu, you're too close to it to see clearly."

Qin Geng gave a derisive laugh, his eyes shrewd. "If Jiang Hailong truly cared about this, if he thought it was something that had to be done, he wouldn't have sent Boss Lin and a broker from the matchmakers' guild today. A man looking for a cheap way to handle his daughter's affairs after her death—how determined can he be? Master Jiang and Boss Lin just want to pocket some silver dollars, using the Dragon King Society's tiger skin as their banner."

"If Jiang Hailong really wanted to come after me, he'd send gunmen with foreign rifles, or a Red Pole skilled in martial arts. Not two men who can only wag their tongues."

Xu Chun and Uncle Jin exchanged a look. Most of the worry in their eyes visibly faded.

Behind them, Ma Laifu, Li Gou, and the others nodded along. Looking at Qin Geng's straight back, they felt not just admiration but a growing sense of security.

Xiao Wu used to be a man of few words who knew only how to work himself to the bone.

Now Brother Xiao Wu had brains and brawn. He saw through things more clearly than these seasoned hands did.

"I know what's on everyone's mind."

Qin Geng slowed, his clear voice reaching every one of his brothers. "We've spent so long scraping by. We finally claimed the prize that is Xun River Wharf, and now we're afraid we'll lose our livelihood."

"But we need to look farther ahead."

Qin Geng turned, his burning gaze sweeping over them. "Stop fretting over a few coins. Stand up straight! If we're not giving Boss Lin gifts, we can save that money. For a rickshaw puller, there are three big goals in life."

He held up three fingers and counted them off. "First, save enough to buy a new cart of your own, so you don't have to pay rent and swallow insults. Second, claim a wharf of your own, so you don't have to watch anyone's face. Third, put together enough capital to open a cart business. We'll be our own bosses, our own proprietors, and we won't have to break our backs pulling carts forever!"

"We've already taken that second step. We have the wharf!"

"Now we save money, buy carts, and open a cart business!"

His words were a torch tossed into a pile of dry firewood.

"That's right!"

"Brother Wu, that's the spirit!"

"We can't be beasts of burden our whole lives. We need something to look forward to!"

Their eyes lit up. The grand vision had lifted the boulder the Dragon King Society had left pressing on their hearts.

That was right. They had the wharf in hand, and better days lay ahead.

Of course, they still had to pay their dues.

That money would go not to Boss Lin, but to Guan Ershun, the Dragon Head above him. As long as they kept up appearances and Qin Geng could still fight, Boss Lin wouldn't dare push the matter to the bitter end.

At Xun River Wharf, the river wind whipped past.

The wharf was still busy that afternoon. Rickshaw pullers from the north, west, and east of the city arrived one after another.

Their rickshaws formed several orderly lines across the square outside the wharf.

By custom, each group's lead cart had to be pulled by someone who could command respect.

The other groups' lead pullers were all rough men in their thirties or forties, thick-faced and broad-armed. Age and years of service had earned them their positions.

Only the south-city group had a young fellow not yet twenty at the very front, in the lead cart's place. His beard had barely begun to grow.

Qin Geng.

Ever since he had killed Chen Sanpi with a single punch and established his standing, the pullers of Xu Jin's Shanty and Ma Village Shack had followed an unwritten rule: whenever Qin Geng worked, the lead cart was his, come thunder or lightning.

If Qin Geng hadn't taken a fare, none of the brothers behind him dared take one first.

That was standing. That was the rule.

Qin Geng held his cart handles, straight as a pine, and quietly watched the river.

Pullers from the other shanties kept stealing glances at him, their eyes full of awe and envy.

"That's Brother Wu? He looks so young."

"Young? You didn't see that punch the other day. Tsk. Even a brute like Chen Sanpi had his chest caved in."

"When the lead cart's bell rings, ten thousand taels of gold follow. He's earned that spot."

Behind Qin Geng, the pullers from Ma Village Shack and Chen Jin Shanty had gathered to talk excitedly about what had happened at noon.

Leaning against a wheel, Ma Laifu told the men around him with a look of disdain, "I say Xiao Wu had it exactly right! With scum like Boss Lin, who bully the weak and fear the strong, that's how you handle them. Either feed them good wine and meat till they're full, or show them your fists every few days to keep them scared. And that Dragon King Society business? I told you the matchmaker was just making noise!"

His eyes shifted to the honest-looking Li Gou beside him, and he grinned wickedly. "How do I know he was making noise? Because that matchmaker came to Ma Village Shack at noon too. Said our Li Gou's birth characters were a match for Miss Jiang's! The boy nearly agreed."

"Pfft—"

"Hahahaha!"

Laughter erupted around them.

Li Gou's face turned the color of pig liver, and veins stood out on his neck. "What are you laughing at? That—that's a thousand silver dollars! Which of you wouldn't be tempted? Huh? Which of you?"

Xu Chun tapped out his pipe nearby and teased him with a chuckle. "Oh, you were tempted? Then why didn't you agree in the end, Gouzi? You could've been the Dragon King Society's prized son-in-law."

"Hmph!"

Li Gou huffed twice, puffed out his narrow chest, and declared, "I thought about it. We might be poor, but we're still men who piss standing up! Earning a living with your own two hands lets you sleep easy! Living off a woman takes a certain knack, but living off a dead woman... that breaks a man's backbone. I may not amount to much, but I, Li Gou, can't stomach that meal!"

"Good!"

"That's a man!"

"Hahahaha—"

Merriment filled the air. Even Qin Geng couldn't help the slight lift at the corners of his mouth.

Just then, a long steam whistle sounded from out on the river.

"Woooo—"

Everyone perked up.

"It's here! The passenger ship's docking!"

The loose ranks of pullers snapped taut. Each man gripped his cart handles and stared eagerly at the exit.

Great Xin soldiers guarded the wharf with old rifles in their hands. Pullers were not allowed to rush the gangplank and fight over passengers.

Every traveler leaving the ship had to pass through the single gate in the fence.

Only after the soldiers had collected a round of fees at that gate would they let the travelers out into the wharf square.

With a clatter, the iron gate slid open, and the first passengers poured through, laden with bags.

As the lead puller, Qin Geng stepped forward without hesitation.

He drew breath deep into his belly, then called out in a strong, carrying voice that cut clearly through the wharf's din:

"Rickshaw! Ride in a rickshaw!"

"Headed into the city or to an inn? Quick on my feet! A steady ride and a fast trip—you'll be satisfied!"

His call rang out full and clear without grating on the ears.

Just then, a foreigner with a high nose and deep-set eyes pushed through the crowd, a top hat on his head.

He wore a well-fitted suit and carried a walking stick. Frowning faintly at the noisy scene, he seemed to be looking for something.

At Qin Geng's call, the foreigner's eyes brightened, and he walked straight over.

He looked Qin Geng up and down, then inspected the polished, neatly kept rickshaw. He nodded in satisfaction.

When the foreigner opened his mouth, out came a Tianjin accent so authentic it was startling, with a local lilt smoother than a native's.

"Hey, young fellow, how much to take me into Jinmen City, over to the concession?"

"Well now?"

Qin Geng raised a brow and gave him a surprised look.

Foreigners were no rare sight these days.

But one who spoke the Tianjin dialect this well was something else.

Qin Geng made a quick calculation.

The concession was a fair distance from Xun River Wharf, though not terribly far. For a local passenger, the fare would be fifty copper coins at most.

But this foreigner wore gold and silver and was dressed to the nines. He looked like a fat sheep ripe for shearing, so the price called for some thought.

Quote too low, and the man might think his cart was no good;

quote too high, and he would look like he was taking advantage of a stranger.

"One hundred copper coins."

Qin Geng held up a finger and named a high price.

It left room for the foreigner to bargain and tested his response.

It wasn't that Qin Geng had set out to cheat a foreigner in the name of "carrying out heaven's justice" or "serving king and country."

When you scraped out a living at the bottom, where was the room for grand principles?

It was simply the custom of a trade whose people had to earn their next meal.

Sizing up the customer before naming a price was a rickshaw puller's basic skill.

Had he met a shrewd local who knew the ropes, Qin Geng would have quoted an honest fare;

but with someone who looked like a fat sheep, it would be an insult to the times not to take a cut.

It was a matter of willing buyer and willing seller. If he could talk someone into a high fare, that was skill.

To his surprise, the foreigner accepted the price without a moment's hesitation and reached into his waistcoat pocket.

"Fine, a hundred it is. Let's go!"

With that, he tossed over a small, gleaming object.

Qin Geng's eyes and hands were quick. He caught it in one grab.

Looking down, he saw a finely worked little silver ingot. By its weight, it would cover not just a hundred copper coins, but a hundred and fifty with room to spare.

"Right you are! Climb in and sit tight!"

Qin Geng tucked away the silver and lowered the cart handles.

The foreigner climbed in and settled back against the cushion.

"Jingle-jingle—"

Qin Geng flicked the brass bell on the handle with his thumb. Its clear ring carried across the wharf.

It was the lead cart's signal: he was off, and the brothers behind him could start taking fares!

Qin Geng put strength into both arms and pushed off hard. The rickshaw shot forward with a whoosh.

His start was steady as bedrock and swift as a galloping horse.

The foreigner felt his body sway ever so slightly. Scenery began racing backward on both sides, yet he felt no jolting at all.

"Well now! Not bad!"

The foreigner couldn't help praising him from the cart. "Those legs, that technique—you've had training, young fellow!"

Master Zhu Xin had once chatted with Qin Geng about foreigners.

When pulling one of Great Xin's dignitaries, you had to make yourself as inconspicuous as air. Unless they spoke to you, you kept your mouth shut to avoid trouble;

but foreigners were restless sorts who loved chatting with pullers to show how close they were to ordinary people.

He had been exactly right.

They had barely left the wharf when the foreigner started talking.

"What's your surname, young fellow?"

"Qin. Qin Geng."

Wind seemed to gather beneath Qin Geng's feet, yet his breathing stayed perfectly even as he answered.

"Qin Geng. Good name."

The foreigner introduced himself cheerfully. "I come from the Western Empire Where the Sun Never Sets. My Western name is Henry. But since I earn my living in the Great Xin Dynasty, I've taken a Great Xin name too: Li Zhizhen. I'm a doctor with my own clinic."

"Li Shizhen?"

Qin Geng laughed. "That's the name of our Great Xin Dynasty's Sage of Medicine. You've chosen a grand name."

"No, no. It's zhi as in seeking truth from facts, and zhen as in being truthful and practical."

Henry waved a hand, then leaned forward. A strange glint crossed his eyes as he watched Qin Geng's back rise and fall rhythmically with his running.

"Qin Geng, your cart runs remarkably steady. Your breathing is long and even, and every step lands as though you've put down roots."

Henry asked suddenly, "You're a Fate Cultivator, aren't you?"

"A Fate Cultivator?"

Qin Geng frowned slightly. His feet did not slow. "What's that supposed to be?"