Chapter 56: Wandering Beggars (4)

Chapter 56: Wandering Beggars (4)

A day had passed.

Xiao Huarong got shoved out of the prison, looking totally miserable.

As he came out the prison gate, he pretended to trip over the threshold, falling flat on the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Laughter erupted behind him.

Xiao Huarong got up and spat hard on the ground.

A voice behind him cursed: "Where the hell are you spitting, you little piece of crap? Watch it, or I'll rip your tongue out!"

Xiao Huarong scrambled away on all fours.

After running a bit and seeing no one was after him, he ducked into an alley, sprawled out, and panted hard.

Once he got his breath back, he heard someone call out friendly-like: "Kid! Hey, kid!"

Hua Rong turned and saw two beggars pop up out of nowhere, grinning at him all smarmy. "Just got out, huh?"

Hua Rong's eyebrows shot up, and he felt around for rocks to defend himself, cursing under his breath: "Get lost! My brother and dad are coming any second!"

Seeing the little guy was pretty feisty, the two men chuckled and acted all nice. "We're all beggars under heaven, one big family. Why you so on guard with us?"

Xiao Huarong kept his mouth shut.

He'd been living decent for a few days, but he hadn't forgotten the old days.

As a young orphan beggar with no home or family, everyone bullied him—nobles, peddlers, even other lowlife beggars.

A few months back, Hua Rong almost got beaten to death with a bamboo pole. When he first showed up, starving and freezing, a local beggar told him straight up that the Master north of town was a real good man, crazy generous. If he knocked and asked for food, he'd get two big white buns.

If he didn't believe it, he could ask anyone in town—everyone called him "Chen the Good."

Back then, young Hua Rong was smart enough not to actually knock for food. He just wanted to get out of the wind, but the bored Chen family servants used him for fun.

If it weren't for Brothers Hu Wen and Hu Wu, and the Magistrate, he'd have died and stayed a confused ghost.

After that, Hua Rong never got why that beggar, who got nothing out of it, would lie to him like that.

It even drove him half crazy—he couldn't see a beggar without feeling a wave of hate.

Later, the Magistrate gave him a piece of advice: if a person is dead set on being a bastard in this life, then whether he's a beggar or an emperor, he's still a bastard.

The words were blunt and crude, enough to get you beheaded.

But for Hua Rong, they were like medicine, slowly opening his heart.

He'd remember everyone who was good to him, and everyone who was bad to him.

The two beggars saw Hua Rong lost in thought, not answering, exchanged a glance, and pressed on: "We heard that yesterday the Magistrate was in the mood for some music and had you dragged over, right?"

Faced with this blatant lie, the doorman Xiao Huarong got instantly on guard.

But the beggar Xiao Huarong let his guard down a little and even showed some anger.

Veteran beggars were experts at reading people.

Picking up on the kid's resentment, they moved in. "When the big shots want music and don't like it, they grab people. Sigh, that's how it is—it's always us lowlifes who get screwed."

One of them said, edging closer and studying Hua Rong's face. "Poor kid, just a little kid."

The other leaned in too, clicking his tongue. "At least he didn't get a beating."

Xiao Huarong, stuck between them, couldn't help being scared. He sucked in a deep breath.

When he exhaled, tears welled up in his eyes.

"Ah, what a pitiful sight." One of the beggars reached out and pressed his stomach, found it indeed empty and hollow, and generously pulled a dirty vegetable bun from his pocket. "You need friends when you're out and about."

Seeing Hua Rong hesitantly take the bun, his voice grew even softer as he fumbled in his pocket again. "I had a son—if he hadn't died of illness, he'd be about your age now."

The words were spoken with great tenderness and warmth.

Hua Rong stared at him eagerly, as if waiting for him to pull out even better food.

The beggar's lips curled into a grin.

Now was the best time to strike.

But just as he was halfway through pulling something from his pocket, Hua Rong suddenly exploded without warning, ramming his head into the beggar's stomach!

With that headbutt, Hua Rong put all his strength into it.

But in his panic, he lost his balance and staggered, landing on his backside with a thud.

The beggar, however, was in intense pain, groaned, and fell flat on his bottom.

A gleaming knife dropped from his pocket, clattering to the ground.

He had at least rammed his way to a chance of escape!

Without time to be scared, Hua Rong scrambled to his feet and ran forward, screaming, "Murder! Murder!"

But he was small and short-legged. The other beggar sprinted after him, grabbed his tangled hair, covered his mouth, and dragged him backward with all his might, reaching for the knife to slit the boy's throat.

The beggar, risking murder, had clung to a sliver of hope.

This place was remote—probably no one would...

But just as the thought crossed his mind, he saw two blazing torches approaching.

Two constables, hands on their swords, descended like divine soldiers.

Among them was the short, stocky constable Yang Zheng.

Seeing Hua Rong being grabbed, Yang Zheng drew his sword in fury and shouted, "Let him go, or I'll chop you to pieces!"

The murderous beggar: "..."

For a moment, he was bewildered.

He remembered that the Nanting government office wasn't even nearby?

He wasn't a seasoned assassin, and faced with the authorities, he panicked, abandoned the assassination attempt, and turned to flee.

But any constable had some martial skills.

Take Yang Zheng, for instance—his aim when throwing stuff was dead-on.

He picked up a stone, pressed his thumb against it, put some force into it, and whipped it sideways, hitting the beggar square on the back of the head. The hit nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he crashed to the ground, his limbs twitching, and he passed out soon after.

The other beggar, clutching his ribs and too pained to move, didn't even get a chance to fight back before the other constable pinned him down.

Yang Zheng hurried over to Hua Rong and yanked him up, asking, his voice tight, "Are you alright?"

"They've gotta be outsiders!" Hua Rong didn't answer; he just clutched his throbbing head, rattling off, "Most of the local beggars know me and know I work for the magistrate. But the new ones don't... they wanna kill me... If a little outsider beggar like me actually got stabbed to death here, those beggars would raise hell about it... The magistrate just got praised by the emperor, and then something this big goes down in Nanting..."

Hua Rong was rambling, and Yang Zheng only caught the gist, but it still sent chills down his spine.

Hua Rong had a lump on his head, already red and swollen.

Afraid he might've hurt himself bad, Yang Zheng checked him over, grumbling good-naturedly, "Why'd they send a little kid like you to do this kinda thing..."

Sure, they were loyal to the magistrate, but not enough to die for him.

Hua Rong, though, didn't seem to care one bit.

When the magistrate came to him, he knew damn well how dangerous this job was.

He was scared—his legs were still shaking.

But Hua Rong didn't even flinch: "The magistrate saved my life, and now he's taking me under his wing... I'm too young. If he gave me a reward or a post, people'd talk. Sending me on this job is his way of giving me an excuse for a promotion. How could I say no?"

He grinned and leaned in close to Yang Zheng: "Uncle Yang, even if it's for his own good, the magistrate wouldn't let me die."

Yang Zheng: "..."

He stared blankly at Hua Rong, whose face was still pale but who could still joke around, and let out a long sigh.

He'd lived all these years and was still less sharp than a kid who'd been a beggar. He was probably stuck being a constable for the rest of his life.

...

The next day, before dawn, rumors were flying all over Nanting.

—Two wandering beggars from out of town had cornered a young yamen gatekeeper in an alley while he was out alone, even pulling a knife.

Luckily, constables on night patrol stumbled onto the scene and nabbed the two thugs on the spot, barely saving the kid's life.

As for why, the yamen didn't say.

But it wasn't hard to figure out.

Probably the young gatekeeper had accidentally flashed some cash, and being alone and an easy target, he caught someone's eye.

If they'd go after someone from the yamen, what chance did regular folks have?

At first, the people of Nanting couldn't care less about Le Wuya's policy on wandering beggars.

But after this nasty incident, they put themselves in the victim's shoes, decided the magistrate was right all along, and jumped in eagerly.

Whenever they spotted a beggar without the official cloth badge from the yamen, the bolder ones would step up to chase them off or grill them; the timid ones would run straight to the Village Head to report it, hoping the local soldiers would come quick and run them off.

In no time, the whole of Nanting was on board.

The people turned themselves into eyes watching the wandering beggars.

The wandering beggars, who'd been lying low and watching, realized the tide had turned. They didn't dare cause trouble anymore and flocked to the yamen to register and get their cloth badges.

Those with shady pasts that couldn't be exposed just slipped away quiet.

Those with bad intentions, once registered at the yamen, lost their nerve to stir up trouble.

Some diehards tried to lay low and cook up other schemes, but they still had to eat. Within half a day, Nanting residents would report them, and they'd get kicked out of Nanting for good.

Some tried to deceive by killing other beggars to steal their badges, but many beggars weren't stupid. Knowing the badges were valuable and needing protection from other aggressive beggars, they quickly sought refuge with the local Beggar Head, Sheng Youde, banding together so others couldn't touch them.

Sheng Youde, without lifting a finger, saw his influence more than double.

Just as Le Wuya had promised him: in the end, the beggars who remained in Nanting were all obedient ones.

...At least on the surface, they dared not cause trouble for now.

Faced with this sudden surge in power, Sheng Youde dared not get cocky, nor could he.

After this incident, he had seen the magistrate's methods.

No matter how arrogant he was, he had to keep his tail between his legs in front of the magistrate.

While Sheng Youde was feeling apprehensive, Le Wuya was personally and meticulously interrogating the two fish he had caught.

These two weren't big fish. In the past, they wouldn't have been worth the effort for Le Wuya, a skilled interrogator; anyone from the Tianlang Camp could have handled it.

It had been years since he last conducted an interrogation, so he was a bit rusty, but he still got them to spill everything they knew.

They confessed that they had come from Quening County, sent by the Beggar Head there to stir up trouble in Nanting, seize territory, and challenge Sheng Youde.

Le Wuya sighed softly.

That told him nothing.

The Beggar Head of Quening County only controlled the beggars there.

Even if he reached into Nanting and took Sheng Youde's position, he was too far away to manage affairs in Nanting.

Probably some official had instructed the Quening Beggar Head to do this.

But which official was hard to say.

After all, the Quening Beggar Head didn't necessarily obey the Quening County magistrate.

Le Wuya thought that he had been too prominent lately.

First the imperial envoy's favor, then the emperor's reward—it was only natural that some colleagues felt uneasy.

Le Wuya wanted to extract more information, but unfortunately, these two knew very little.

He felt he hadn't even used his skills before they were crying out nonsense like "just kill me."

Washing the blood from his hands, Le Wuya left the southern city jail.

Facing the bright sky, he gently closed his fan and let out a melancholy sigh:

The world was truly full of hidden scoundrels and bastards, too many to count.