By this point, when Stage Manager Gong asked, "May I have your name, Master?" it was no longer mere flattery.
Xu Feng could even summon the Day and Night Wandering Gods of the City God Temple.
Calling him "Master"
was no presumption.
Xu Feng had not expected that, at this point, one of the things Zhao San had long yearned for—part of what had become an obsession—had quietly come to pass.
Xu Feng was an outsider, after all, so he did not feel its weight as keenly.
The people were divided into respectable and lowly.
Even respectable people were divided into rank upon rank.
And among the so-called lowly, there were further divisions: lowborn people, menial laborers, and ranks beneath them.
Each was different.
As the saying went, the divide between high and low was slight in some ways and vast in others. A slight divide meant the lowborn were not treated like air, with no one to rely on and no one willing to see them. But a vast divide meant those above and below truly lived in separate worlds.
Take the Lower Nine Classes.
People spoke of the Lower Nine Classes as though they were one thing, but they were a vast world of their own, filling the streets and markets.
All worked in lowly trades.
Even among the Lower Nine Classes, Corpse Sewers barely counted.
Forensic Coroners also worked a lowly trade, but Coroner Zhou had a Funeral Shop and a position at the county office.
Compared with Zhao San—the Zhao San of old—his standing was far higher. Zhao San had been born with a hard fate and no one to help him. Among Corpse Sewers, an arrangement like Xu Feng's with his master was one in ten thousand.
Learning to read?
Where would he even have