Chapter 15: At the Goods Yard

Thinking of the two blades in Zhao Zhenxing's house, and recalling the hints dropped in the elders' conversations, Zhao Jin did not press further. Instead, he tactfully flattered, "Second Uncle, your skill has to be the best in all of Xuzhou, right?"

Flattery may pierce anything, but it never pierces pride. Zhao Zhenxing couldn't help but beam at the words, though he still shook his head. "Best? Don't let others hear you say that, or you'll be a laughingstock. These military techniques — train them with heart, fight real battles with them, and they'll come naturally. As for rankings, within the city of Xuzhou and the three guard battalions outside, there's no telling how many are better than your uncle. Now stop slacking off and hold that horse stance steady!"

Zhao Jin quickly straightened his posture. He could tell that Zhao Zhenxing hadn't been modest just now — among the strong, there is always someone stronger. This Xuzhou city was truly something else.

After that interlude of martial display, learning martial arts returned to being tedious and dull. Near lunchtime, He Cuihua came by to pick them up and even exchanged a greeting with Zhao Zhenxing. From then on, they would eat lunch and dinner at the house, and she would take Zhao Jin and Mu Shulan to and fro.

Lunch was quite good. Zhao Zhentang huffed again, "If I weren't out doing that work, how could you all eat so well?" From Zhao Jin's impression, many households lived far worse than theirs — plenty ate only two meals a day, let alone seeing meat and fish at every meal. It seemed the various incomes of a bailiff and an executioner were indeed substantial.

What Zhao Jin found a little strange was that at noon, Zhao Zhentang brought back a packet of milk-pastries from outside. Since Mu Shulan was eating with them, naturally she was offered some. He hadn't expected the little girl to stare at the pastries, hesitate for a long while, and then refuse, saying, "My family won't let me eat those."

Zhao Jin also noticed the three elders exchange glances, a look of understanding passing between them. Zhao Jin himself couldn't figure it out; he only thought it was too strange — a family that forbade eating scallions, forbade anything with dairy. What girl doesn't like sweet pastries?

A monotonous, regimented life always passes quickly. Rising early to run, training martial arts all day, then resting — in the blink of an eye, five days had gone by.

In those five days, Zhao Zhenxing did not demonstrate his martial skill again. Every day remained the same monotonous horse stance and strength training.

Though he had trained for less than ten days, Zhao Jin could already feel the changes in his body — his endurance was growing stronger, and his energy was increasingly abundant.

By the eighth day of training, Zhao Jin could use the lightest stone lock for strength exercises. After twenty lifts, his arms no longer ached so badly.

After lunch at home, Zhao Zhenxing was leading the two children back. They had walked two streets when they spotted the Chen Sheng brothers standing at a corner. The moment Chen Sheng saw Zhao Jin, he walked right over and loudly complained, "Zhao Jin, that method of yours doesn't work—"

Halfway through, he saw Zhao Zhenxing standing nearby and quickly ducked his head, not daring to continue. Zhao Zhenxing, knowing that his presence as an adult made the children uncomfortable, smiled and said to Zhao Jin, "Come back a bit earlier this afternoon to train," and headed back on his own.

"That method of yours doesn't work! They won a round, ate my stuff, but then wouldn't fight me seriously — they just drop to the ground the moment we start. Such good pastries, all gone to waste!" Chen Sheng grumbled, his face full of displeasure.

Chen Hong, beside him, nodded vigorously. Chen Sheng continued, "Since your method doesn't work, come up with another one for me!"

"Did it work those first few days?" Zhao Jin suddenly asked. Chen Sheng froze, nodded subconsciously, then added, "But now it's useless. You have to come up with something, or else you'll have to pay me back for those pastries."

Mu Shulan, listening from the side, scraped her finger against her cheek and kept saying, "Welching, welching. How shameful."

Even Chen Hong beside them reddened a little and stepped two paces away. Zhao Jin, however, found it amusing. He certainly wasn't going to get worked up over it. He spoke up, "I'll go with you and take a look — see why they won't fight you."

Heading out from home every morning, returning from his second uncle's house every evening — so many days of this two-point line, training these dull drills every day, had left Zhao Jin stifled and frustrated. A trip to that goods yard full of kids to clear his head sounded just fine.

On the way there, Zhao Jin learned why the method had stopped working. At first, when Chen Sheng went there and laid out the rules, many kids were willing to fight. They figured they might not beat Chen Sheng, but they might not necessarily lose to someone else. As long as they won, they'd get something to eat — and the kind of fine pastries they rarely ever got. Plenty of them rushed forward right then.

But after the initial excitement of those first few days wore off, everyone realized that Chen Sheng had too few pastries, and only a handful of people ever got to eat them. And after winning, they still had to fight Chen Sheng and get beaten badly. The hope of actually getting to eat was slim, so many kids just lost interest.

What's more, those few who could win, after taking a beating from Chen Sheng, would simply lie on the ground, play dead, and concede. Chen Sheng felt helpless — every day he'd bring out pastries he couldn't eat himself, and he couldn't find anyone to spar with. Growing anxious, he had come looking for Zhao Jin today.

Hearing this, Zhao Jin was quite surprised. Back then, he had assumed many kids wouldn't fight Chen Sheng because there was no benefit in it. He had thought that if more people fought Chen Sheng, Chen Sheng wouldn't win every single time. He hadn't expected Chen Sheng to be this strong.

The goods yard wasn't actually far from Zhao Jin's place, and they arrived before long. This yard had likely long been abandoned, with no one tending to it, and had become a paradise for children.

Someone spotted Chen Sheng approaching and called out. Immediately, a crowd of kids swarmed over, asking with keen interest, "Are we fighting today? What pastries do you have today?"

Seeing such a large crowd surge toward them, the little girl immediately hid behind Zhao Jin. Chen Hong also clutched his older brother's hand tightly.

"Fight what? You lot just fool me every time!" Chen Sheng snapped irritably.

Hearing this, the kids deflated, but they weren't willing to give up just yet. They crowded around Chen Sheng, saying, "Come on, let's fight! We're all waiting to fight you!"

Chen Sheng raised the wooden saber in his hand and waved it in front of him, driving them back. The kids still refused to disperse, lingering around with cheeky grins.

Standing beside Chen Sheng, Zhao Jin furrowed his brow. He could see something was off. The kids crowding around here were all on the older side — two or three years older than Zhao Jin and Chen Sheng — and they had a thuggish, roguish air about them. These dozen or so kids kept exchanging glances with each other. The other children farther away, whether with disgust or fear on their faces, all steered clear and kept their distance.

"If you don't fight today, no one's going to fight you tomorrow," a dark, swarthy youth said. There was already a hint of a threat in his tone. Zhao Jin understood at once — this bunch of hooligan kids were a gang. They wanted to monopolize Chen Sheng's pastries together. They'd fake-fight among themselves, then play dead and cheat against Chen Sheng, and no matter what, they'd walk away with a few pastries.

It was then that Zhao Jin remembered — this dark, stocky youth was named Liu Yong, the leader of the kids who came from South Gate.

"No fighting, no fighting." Chen Sheng's eyes glared wide too.

This crowd of kids still held some fear of Chen Sheng and immediately backed off, not daring to pester him further. But beside that swarthy youth was a short one, who looked about Chen Sheng's age but was roughly the size of Chen Hong — even a bit shorter than Mu Shulan. This little runt pointed at Zhao Jin and said with a grin, "Look, Miss Zhao's found himself a little lady."

The nickname "Miss Zhao" had been Zhao Jin's old moniker — a boy who was too quiet, too shy around strangers, always trailing behind his parents, so the other kids had called him that.

Zhao Jin said nothing, but Mu Shulan, upon hearing the words "little lady," immediately spat in that direction and hid behind Zhao Jin, her small face turning bright red.

The kids burst into raucous laughter. That swarthy youth, Liu Yong, walked up to Zhao Jin and said brazenly, "What's so good about a fake girl? Come be my wife instead!"

The kids gathered around grew even more excited. Someone shouted with a laugh, "Brother Yong, hold the wedding ceremony right now!"

Liu Yong roared with laughter. "Alright! Come here, wife!"

As he spoke, he reached out to grab Mu Shulan. His hand had barely extended when someone smacked it away. The swarthy youth froze — he hadn't expected Zhao Jin to dare knock his hand aside.

This Brother Yong stood half a head taller than Zhao Jin, was quite stout, and had a dozen or so little brothers behind him. Zhao Jin, on the other hand, was usually timid and shrinking, a complete coward. Liu Yong had never taken Zhao Jin seriously. Zhao Jin's sudden move stunned the youths behind Liu Yong as well. Before Liu Yong could even speak, he heard Zhao Jin's cold voice: "Get lost!"

The scene fell silent once more. Even the children and youths keeping their distance noticed something strange and turned to look.