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They chatted along the way, and the rickshaw soon entered the Concession.
The streets here were broad and clean, lined with Western-style houses. Most of the pedestrians were dressed in their finest.
Qin Geng deftly pulled up before a small building with a sign reading "Lizhizhen Clinic."
"We're here, sir."
Qin Geng set the shafts down steadily.
Henry hopped out, still eager to talk. He took a business card from his coat and handed it to Qin Geng with both hands.
"Qin Geng, this is my card."
"If you ever feel unwell, or have questions about Fate Cultivators, come see me anytime."
"And of course, I'll give you twenty percent off treatment."
Qin Geng took the card and glanced at it.
A line of gold-embossed lettering read: [Doctor of Western Medicine Henry / Li Zhizhen].
"Thank you, Doctor Li."
Qin Geng tucked the card into his coat and cupped his hands. "See you around!"
With that, he turned the rickshaw, pushed off, and vanished down the street with the empty carriage.
Watching Qin Geng leave, Henry stood where he was, rubbing the stubble on his chin and murmuring to himself:
"Strange. Very strange..."
"How could a mere third-tier carriage driver have such blazing vitality?"
"Tianjin truly is a place where crouching tigers and hidden dragons dwell..."
"If I used him to test a disease..."
After dropping off Henry, the foreign doctor who couldn't stop talking about "Fate Cultivators" and "Disease Cultivators," Qin Geng did not return to Xun River Wharf.
He turned the rickshaw around and raced with wind beneath his feet toward quiet Anping Street in South City.
It was just past noon. The sun was mild, but the wind cut hard.
He ran into quite a few familiar faces along the way.
"Hey, Fifth Brother! Off to make your fortune?"
A carriage driver in a ragged cotton coat was squatting by a wall, gnawing on a cornbread bun. At the sight of Qin Geng's gleaming rickshaw, he sprang up, swallowed the crumbs in his mouth, and greeted him with bows and nods.
"Just wandering around."
Qin Geng slowed, kept one hand on the shafts, and nodded back.
"Take care, Fifth Brother!"
The driver did not dare ask anything more. He watched Qin Geng go, his eyes full of respect and awe.
That was standing in the streets.
Two months ago, if Qin Geng had pulled his rickshaw past, these old hands would barely have lifted an eyelid—and only because of his aunt in the city.
Now that "Fifth Brother" had been earned, fist by fist, life by life.
The wheels rolled over the bluestone road.
Before long, Qin Geng reached the far end of Anping Street.
It was an out-of-the-way spot with few businesses. There was only a little shop bearing a sign that read "Osmanthus Fragrance Studio." Its frontage was narrow, and its black-lacquered doors stood half shut, giving it a desolate air.
This was Shopkeeper Lu's territory.
The name sounded refined, like a pastry shop or a place where scholars gathered for tea.
But when Qin Geng stopped outside and twitched his nose, he smelled neither osmanthus blossoms nor cosmetics. Instead, there was a strange odor of damp, mildew, and cheap incense after it had burned.
He had smelled that odor at the Mortuary.
Qin Geng parked the rickshaw beneath the old locust tree by the door and locked it.
Osmanthus Fragrance Studio had no attendant to welcome customers and no one calling out their wares.
Qin Geng climbed the steps and gently knocked the brass ring against the heavy wooden door.
Clang, clang, clang.
The clear sound carried far down the empty street.
"Come in."
The slightly languid voice from within belonged to Shopkeeper Lu, Lu Xingmin.
Qin Geng pushed the door open and entered.
The room was dim. A mix of cheap face powder and an indescribable mustiness rushed into his nose.
On the surface, Osmanthus Fragrance Studio sold rouge and face powder.
But one glance told Qin Geng something was wrong.
The bottles and jars on the counter were coated in dust. Clearly, no one had touched them in a long time.
Farther inside hung a blue cloth curtain.
Through a gap in the curtain, he could make out quite a few shadowy "people" standing in the back room.
Those "people" were painted in gaudy colors, with deathly pale faces and two unsettling spots of red on their cheeks. They were the paper effigies commonly found in funeral-paper shops.
Understanding dawned on Qin Geng.
No wonder the shop sold rouge.
The cosmetics were probably not for living young women, but for painting faces on the lifeless paper figures in back.
With the door half shut in broad daylight and not a soul coming in to buy anything, the shop was plainly a front.
Shopkeeper Lu sat in a Grandmaster Chair, holding a Purple Clay Teapot and sipping straight from its spout. His injured leg from last time had already healed.
Qin Geng marveled at Zheng Tonghe's medical skill. If some poor wretch broke a leg, he would be crippled for life. Yet less than a month later, Shopkeeper Lu was already as lively as a dragon and tiger.
When Qin Geng came in, Shopkeeper Lu raised his eyelids slightly and swept his gaze over him.
That gaze was sharp as a knife, as though it could see straight through Qin Geng's flesh.
"Hmm?"
Shopkeeper Lu lowered the teapot, a playful smile tugging at his mouth. "Reached the Upper Three Tiers?"
Qin Geng's heart tightened.
Shopkeeper Lu was no ordinary man.
Qin Geng had only just reached level thirty, and before he could fully rein in his aura, the man had seen through him at a glance.
"Yes, Shopkeeper Lu—"
Qin Geng nodded and was about to answer.
Then everything changed.
Before he could finish speaking, a sudden numbness shot through the sole of Qin Geng's foot.
It was an acutely sharp pain, as though he had stepped on a red-hot branding iron—or been bitten hard by a venomous snake.
[Step-Sensing Danger]!
Acting almost on instinct, without even time to think, Qin Geng drove off his left foot and shifted half a step sideways without warning.
Whoosh—!
Something sliced through the air right beside his right ear.
For an instant, Qin Geng could feel the force of the wind scraping painfully across his cheek.
Thud—!
A muffled sound rang out.
Qin Geng looked back. A Wolf-Hair Brush stained cinnabar red had buried itself deep in the hard Jujube Wood pillar behind him like an arrow.
It had sunk deep into the wood. Its tail still trembled faintly, giving off a low hum.
Qin Geng steadied himself and touched his hot cheek, a wave of fear rising in him.
If that had struck squarely, his eyeball would have burst.
"Not bad."
Watching Qin Geng, Shopkeeper Lu smiled with satisfaction and clapped lightly. "Step-Sensing Danger—eyes in the soles of your feet. That's genuine third-tier skill. No faking it."
"Shopkeeper Lu, that's quite a welcome gift."
Qin Geng gave a dry laugh. "You nearly ruined my face."
"In our line of work, if you don't stay alert every moment, your head will leave your shoulders soon enough."
Shopkeeper Lu smiled, unconcerned.
"Watch out!"
Before Qin Geng could catch his breath, Shopkeeper Lu's expression turned stern, and he let out a shout like a thunderclap.
With that shout came a rustling scrape from behind the blue curtain.
Then a gaudily colored figure shot out from the back like a ghost and lunged straight for Qin Geng's face!
It was a Boy Paper Doll half as tall as a man!
The Paper Person was made with uncanny realism. It wore a little flowered jacket and had a deathly pale painted face. Its two eyes were dots of black ink, yet now they seemed alive, filled with a sinister, deathly air.
It moved with astonishing speed, bringing a gust of chilling wind. In the blink of an eye, it was right in front of Qin Geng.
Its papier-mâché arm was now as hard as an iron bar. It swept straight at Qin Geng's chest.
If that blow landed, it would smash not only his chest but even an iron plate to pieces.
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