Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

The small courtyard that the Qingyi Society promised Chen Ping was quieter and more dilapidated than Chen Ping had expected.

The courtyard wall is not high. It is made of gravel from the riverbed mixed with yellow mud. After being washed by rain, the wall looks mottled and uneven. A few clumps of withered grass on top of the wall tremble in the wind.

Apart from an old well that was probably still not working, there were only two main rooms and a cramped side room in the courtyard.

Withered yellow weeds sprouted from the cracks in the blue bricks on the ground, giving off a desolate feeling of a place that hadn't been inhabited for a long time.

Chen Ping stood in the center of the courtyard, his hand unconsciously stroking the money pouch in his arms.

That was the monthly salary I had just received from the Qingyi Society branch.

Five taels of silver, plus the key to this house.

The heavy silver coins pressed against my ribs through my coarse clothes, carrying a cold and hard sense of reality.

"Ping-ge, I'll go boil some water."

Gouwa's voice was somewhat timid.

He was wearing an old cotton-padded jacket that was extremely ill-fitting, with the cuffs rolled up several times, revealing his wrists covered in chilblains.

He was carrying a bundle of firewood he had picked up from somewhere, and was walking towards the earthen stove in the corner with his head down.

Ever since the incident at the mortuary, Gouwa has been silently following behind Chen Ping.

He didn't speak, didn't make any demands, and even tried to minimize his presence, like a stray dog ​​that had been taken in, only knowing how to work hard, afraid that he would be abandoned if he stopped.

"Knock knock knock".

Suddenly, someone knocked on the dilapidated wooden door.

The sound was soft and unhurried.

Chen Ping's eyes narrowed slightly. He gestured to Gouwa with his chin, indicating that he should open the door.

Gouwa immediately put down the firewood and ran over to unlatch the door latch.

With a creaking, sour friction sound from the door hinges, a hunched figure swayed in.

The newcomer looked as if he were carrying an invisible black pot on his back, his whole body huddled up, his old, faded long gown hanging loosely on his body, as if a gust of wind could blow him over.

He was holding a well-worn, shiny pipe in his hand. As soon as he stepped across the threshold, he was struck by a heart-wrenching cough.

"Cough cough cough cough..."

The voice was hoarse and hoarse, as if he were coughing up his lungs.

The old man held onto the door frame with one hand and clutched his chest with the other, his back bent so low it almost touched the ground, looking utterly miserable and dejected.

It's Old Liu.

"Chen... Chen Honggun, congratulations."

Old Liu finally stopped coughing and slowly raised his head.

On that wrinkled face, one eye was half-closed, cloudy and lifeless, while the other eye was bloodshot.

He tremblingly cupped his hands in a respectful gesture, a humble smile tugging at the corners of his mouth: "This old man heard you've made a name for yourself, so I came especially to ask for a cup of water... cough cough, if you think this old man is bad luck, I'll be leaving now, I'll be leaving now..."

As he spoke, he made a gesture as if to turn around, his back looking like that of a dying old dog, so pitiful that it was unbearable to look at.

Chen looked at him calmly, without saying a word or moving.

If it were someone else, they might be misled by the old man's current miserable state and think he was a cripple.

But Chen Ping remembers.

Two months ago, when he had just transmigrated to this world and was wandering around the docks like a headless fly, it was this old man who hit him hard on the head with his pipe, teaching him how to tell the speed of the water flow, how to read the micro-expressions on the faces of those big shots, and how to hide his tail like a rat in the cracks of the gang.

Back then, although Liu Laoguo also coughed and had a hunchback, he was definitely not the pathetic figure he is now.

This old man is acting.

Chen Ping knew exactly what was going on.

In this world, betrayal is the norm.

Liu Laoguo had seen too many ungrateful people, and he dared not gamble on whether Chen Ping would still acknowledge him as his half-master after gaining power.

So he peeled himself apart, dissected himself, and showed his most wretched and useless side in order to test Chen Ping's bottom line.

"Come in and talk."

Chen Ping finally spoke, his voice flat and unreadable.

He turned to the side and pointed to the fairly spacious side room on the east side, "This yard is just sitting empty anyway, so that room is yours."

Liu Laoguo, who was about to turn around and leave, paused.

He slowly turned around, his half-closed eyes suddenly widening, his cloudy pupils darting across Chen Ping's face as if trying to find even the slightest hint of hypocrisy or reluctance.

But Chen Ping's face showed nothing but calmness.

"This old man... cough cough, I'm just a useless person now, eating for free..." Old Liu was still probing, his voice trembling.

"Whether you're a useless person or not, you know it yourself." Chen Ping looked at him, his gaze penetrating the disguise of humility and looking straight into his heart. "If you hadn't taught me how to work at this dock, how to lower my head, how to hide what's in my eyes, I would be a skeleton at the bottom of the river by now."

"I, Chen Ping, will remember this kindness."

Upon hearing this, Liu Laoguo's hunched body stiffened slightly.

A moment later, he straightened up.

Although his back was still hunched, the dejected feeling of being on the verge of dying instantly disappeared.

He grinned, revealing a set of uneven, yellow teeth, and chuckled.

"Hehe... Okay, okay."

Old Liu didn't stand on ceremony. He strode into the yard, his pipe clattering loudly against the sole of his shoe.

He plopped down on the stone stool by the well, not minding the cold, and took out a tobacco pouch from his pocket, slowly filling his pipe with tobacco leaves.

"Chen Honggun, do you know why the old man was willing to teach you back then?"

Old Liu lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the pungent smoke filled the space between the two men. He looked at Chen Ping through the smoke, a complex light flickering in his old eyes.

"Because you smelled when you first arrived."

Chen Ping frowned: "What's that smell?"

"hope."

Old Liu exhaled a smoke ring, his voice becoming low and hoarse, "Your eyes are too bright, too clear. That look doesn't seem like that of a canal worker coming to make a living, but rather... like someone who thinks there's still hope for this world, someone who believes that as long as they work hard, they can live a decent life."

"This kind of thing is too glaring in this rotten world." Old Liu pointed to his eyes. "It will make those who are wallowing in the mud feel uncomfortable and offended. If you were to wander around the docks with eyes like that, your eyeballs would be gouged out and crushed within three days."

Chen Ping remained silent.

He knew that Liu Laoguo was right.

That was the last bit of dignity and confidence he had as a modern person in this chaotic, feudal world.

"So I'll teach you." Old Liu chuckled, pointing to Chen Ping's face. "I'll teach you how to act like a grandson, how to become numb, how to become like the millions of other laborers on this dock, looking like a dusty, unremarkable stone."

"You've learned a lot these past two months. Now you look cold and hard, just like every brick in Qingkou Town."

The old man paused, then changed the subject, his tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of emotion, "But I know that your heart isn't completely black yet. If it were, you should have kicked me out just now, or at least tossed me a couple of coins like you'd a beggar to get rid of me."

Chen Ping didn't reply, but just quietly looked at the old man.

"Chen Honggun is now a prominent figure in the gang," Old Liu said, stroking his pipe. "Although the Red Flower Stick is impressive, your foundation is shallow. Which of the other Red Sticks in the gang doesn't have a bunch of cronies behind them? Although I'm old and frail, my eyesight is still sharp and my mind isn't senile. I can give you some advice on some things."

This is a deal.

Chen Ping understood, and so did Liu Laoguo.

In this world, emotions are too much of a luxury; the most reliable relationship in this era is one based on shared interests.

Liu Laoguo traded his experience for protection, while Chen Ping traded a bed for guidance from a seasoned veteran.

In Chen Ping's eyes, this deal was worthwhile.

"Since you're here, stay here," Chen Ping decided decisively.

At this moment, Gouwa, who was standing to the side, was already somewhat stunned by what he had heard.

He looked down at his hands, which were covered with chilblains and tiny wounds, with black dirt stuck under his fingernails.

He was illiterate, couldn't do accounting, and knew no martial arts.

Chen Ping is now a member of the Red Flower Gang, not the peasant he used to be.

All he knew how to do was start a fire, sweep the floor, and move corpses.

A tremendous sense of emptiness washed over him like a tidal wave, engulfing him.

He felt like a withered blade of grass in the yard, completely out of place.

Ping is a respectable man now, and he shouldn't be a burden like him anymore.

Gouwa silently put down the firewood in his hand, moving very gently, as if afraid of making the slightest noise.

He didn't dare look at Chen Ping, but just lowered his head and moved step by step toward the courtyard gate.

He didn't want to put Ping in a difficult position, nor did he want to look like a beggar who refused to leave.

"Where are you going?" Chen Ping's voice rang out behind him.

Gouwa trembled, stopped in his tracks, but dared not turn around, his voice barely audible: "I...I'll go back to the dock...Our deal is almost over, I don't want to cause any more trouble for Brother Ping..."

Chen Ping frowned slightly.

To be honest, reason told him that keeping Gouwa would indeed be a burden.

More mouths to feed means more expenses, and more people mean more vulnerabilities.

But the images of those nights at the mortuary flashed through his mind, showing the child carrying a corpse heavier than himself, vomiting until his face turned deathly pale, yet remaining silent.

"stop."

This time, it wasn't Chen Ping who spoke, but Liu Laoguo.

The old man pointed at Gouwa's retreating figure with his pipe, then turned to Chen Ping, squinting as he asked, "What's this kid like, his character?"

Chen Ping was silent for a moment, then said truthfully, "He is hardworking and doesn't complain. Although he is rough around the edges in handling matters at the mortuary, he is trying to learn. Most importantly, he keeps his mouth shut."

Old Liu took a couple of puffs of his cigarette, squinted at Gouwa's trembling back, and sneered.

"In that case, if this kid walks out of this courtyard right now, do you believe he won't see the sun rise tomorrow?"

Chen Ping's eyes turned cold: "What do you mean?"

"Chen Honggun, you got to your position by stepping on other people's heads." Old Liu pointed to the courtyard gate with his cigarette holder, his tone sinister. "Those old guys in the gang who have been eyeing the position of Red Flower Stick for years, which one of them doesn't hate you to the core? They don't dare to touch you now because they're afraid of Yellow Teeth, afraid of the gang's rules."

At this point, Old Liu chuckled and pointed at Gouwa, saying, "But this wild child who has no one to love or care for him, if he leaves your yard, will those people let him go? He's practically delivered to your door. Kill him, and you'll both disgust you and vent your anger."

"Not to mention that Ghost Hand Zhang." Old Liu's eyes deepened. "His gang is probably all over the place looking for a chance to make trouble for you. This kid has your Chen Honggun's mark on him. If he gets alone, he'll be skinned alive and hung on the dock as a public spectacle to embarrass you."

Chen Ping frowned, looking at Gouwa's thin back, and said coldly, "This was a transaction. I paid him for saving his life back then."

"Hey, good deal, this old man loves deals the most." Old Liu's orange-peel face wrinkled into a grin. "Since this kid is decent and keeps his mouth shut, he can stay with me."

"With my old arms and legs, I'm just missing someone to serve tea and water and run errands."

"Let him learn from me for a month or two. If he really isn't cut out for it, then it's not too late to fire him."

Chen Ping glanced at Liu Laoguo, then at Gouwa.

He knew that Liu Laoguo was trying to find a way out for the child, and also to give Chen Ping a way out.

You will be responsible for all expenses during this period.

Chen Ping snorted coldly, threw down those words, and turned to walk towards the main room, leaving the two of them with only his cold, hard back.

Even after Chen Ping went inside and closed the door, Gouwa remained frozen in place, somewhat at a loss.

He wanted to leave, but dared not; he wanted to stay, but feared Chen Ping would dislike him.

"What are you still standing there for?"

Old Liu said to Gouwa.

"Come here and fill this pipe for me. Since you've stayed, put your mind at ease and learn something. In this world, you can't survive just by being able to work."

Gouwa sniffed, nodded vigorously, and ran over quickly.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled into the dilapidated courtyard, casting long shadows of an old man and a young boy, and also illuminating the faint warm light on Chen Ping's tightly closed door.