Steam Old Days: The Extraordinary Begins with a Corpse Collector

The fat woman led Lyndon into the bar.

Her two thick arms were wrapped tightly around Lyndon's body, her fat pressing against him, almost as if she wanted to knead him into her body.

Lyndon tried to push himself away from the fat woman's embrace.

But the more he did this, the tighter the fat woman hugged him.

The pungent smell of heavy makeup and cheap perfume emanating from her made Lyndon roll his eyes repeatedly.

The fat woman didn't care at all; the more Lyndon resisted, the more excited she became.

Fingers, about the thickness of a small radish, roamed over Lyndon's body.

Lyndon felt a chill run down his spine, but he had no choice but to endure it in order to catch Arthur.

"Look at this place, what a cute little guy."

Ms. Violet spoke in a drawn-out, cloyingly sweet voice, her small eyes blinking vigorously on her greasy face.

"This will be your new home from now on! Old Sailor's Bar, the liveliest and most profitable place on East Street, bar none!"

She led Lyndon on a tour of the bar.

The front hall is furnished with identical tables and chairs, with a different number of chairs next to each table; some tables have three chairs, while others have four.

Each table has a candlestick on it.

Ms. Violet said it was for adding some spice to the evenings for the guests.

We'll turn off a few gas lamps and light candles instead.

To that end, they even posted nautical charts and several decorative posters with a distinctly whimsical style on the wall.

The store has twelve gas lamps installed in the front hall alone, and the gas supply pipes are hidden in the walls, with only a short part exposed.

The booths against the wall were converted from an entire fishing boat. They've been freshly painted, but the marks left by time are still clearly visible.

As the three walked past the bar, Lyndon couldn't help but glance at them a couple more times.

The bar counter was also made from a single ship keel, with verdigris seeping from the rivets. The countertop was wiped clean and felt incredibly smooth to the touch.

"How is it? Pretty nicely decorated, right? It's better than many bars in the new town!"

With that, Violet proudly led Lyndon to a piano.

She dropped a silver shilling into the hole below, then pulled the lever, and the piano began to play automatically.

The principle is very simple: it is driven by rows of steam pistons inside.

"This thing cost me a lot of money! You've never seen anything like it before!"

Lyndon nodded, raised his eyebrows, and exclaimed, "Wow! This is the first time I've ever seen a piano played without anyone playing it!"

"That's right. Working here for a day, you'll see more amazing things than you'd see in your entire life!"

Suddenly, she leaned closer to Lyndon, deliberately lowering her voice, and her breath, a mixture of tobacco and alcohol odor, hit Lyndon's face: "Just imagine, at night, when the lights dim, the music starts, and the girls start singing and dancing, how lively that scene would be!"

Violet poked Lyndon's nose with her finger, laughing heartily.

Lyndon suppressed the nausea in his stomach, trying his best to maintain a timid and awkward expression on his face.

He lowered his head and replied softly, "Yes, yes, ma'am, I will do my job well. I know how to serve drinks and water and clear the table."

"What? Serving drinks and water? Hahahaha!"

Violet seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world. She finally let go of Lyndon's arms, clutched her stomach, and laughed so hard she almost fell over.

Lyndon also took the opportunity to distance himself from Violet.

Old Bob, oblivious to Lyndon's unusual behavior, sneered and mocked, "Country bumpkins are just country bumpkins, they don't know anything! If you were a little more clever at night and could amuse those lonely ladies, tsk tsk, they'd be incredibly generous. If you're good in bed, one night's tips could be more than you earn in a month!"

Lyndon knew exactly what old Bob was talking about, but he still shrank back, putting on an innocent and naive look.

"Alright, Bob. This kid doesn't understand these things yet. Judging from his appearance, he's probably still a virgin. Find someone to teach him properly later."

Violet couldn't help but defend Lyndon.

She reached out and touched Lyndon's face: "Oh dear, I really don't want to ruin your innocent charm, but when it comes to taking care of guests, you can't be clueless."

As she spoke, Violet squeezed Lyndon's arm: "Don't be afraid, if those guys can't teach you, I'll teach you myself."

Lyndon didn't speak or show any expression; he simply took a step back as much as possible.

Violet's face stiffened upon seeing this.

She turned and called out in a loud voice, "Bob!"

The old man, who had just been looking impatient, instantly beamed with a fawning smile: "Ms. Violet, what are your orders?"

"Take our little guy to the back to wash up, dry his face, and find him a proper waiter's uniform to change into. Make sure he's dressed in his best!"

Violet commanded, her gaze sweeping over Lyndon as if he were a commodity up for sale.

"Look at that physique, that face. He'd be even more attractive if he dressed smartly. Oh, and by the way, take him to the kitchen to familiarize himself with the way. From now on, he can eat dinner with the girls."

After arranging Lyndon's seat, Violet swayed her plump body and staggered up the stairs, leaving behind a trail of perfumed fragrance.

Old Bob respectfully replied to Violet's retreating figure, "Yes, ma'am."

Once Violet was out of sight, old Bob turned to Lyndon and said in a cold tone, "Come with me, country bumpkin."

After saying that, he glared at Lyndon, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt.

Old Bob tossed his arms and swaggered past Lyndon.

He led Lyndon through the front hall and toward the back of the bar.

The corridors there were narrow and dark, the walls were mottled, and the air was filled with the smells of food and cleaning agents.

"Kid, don't think you know who you are just because Ms. Violet smiled at you a couple of times."

Old Bob warned Lyndon as he walked.

"Here, rules are rules. Speak less, do more, especially at night. Don't look at what you shouldn't see, and don't listen to what you shouldn't hear. Whatever the customer's request is, you must fulfill it. Understand?"

"Understood, sir," Lyndon replied meekly, head bowed.

They arrived at the kitchen door.

The kitchen is brighter than the hallway.

Inside, there was a long table and a huge stove, but it was cold and deserted, with unwashed dishes and wine glasses piled up in the sink next to it.

"Pah! Why haven't they even started washing these things yet!"

Looking at the messy sink, old Bob was suddenly overcome with malice. He grabbed a long-handled ladle and smashed it hard against the back of the only girl in the kitchen.

boom!

With a muffled thud, the girl fell to the ground, gasping for breath in pain, her frail body curled up in a ball.

"You're a money-losing piece of trash! What's the point of keeping you around? You can't even do this little thing right! Useless!"

Old Bob vented his tyranny, feeling that he might not have hit her hard enough to make her realize her mistake, so he went up and kicked her a few more times.

The girl was powerless to resist and could only curl up on the ground, apologizing repeatedly.

Even Lyndon clenched his fists at the sight of such a terrible scene.

Finally, old Bob got tired of beating her. He pointed at the girl on the ground and said, "If I find you slacking off or dawdling again, I'll have someone hang you up and beat you! Understand?"

The girl made a weak sound from her throat.

"Yes, I understand..."

Old Bob took a breath and pointed to the girl on the ground, saying, "This is Giselle. From now on, she'll be in charge of your meals. You'll eat here just like the other employees, but in shifts!"

"Alright, help her up."

Lyndon quickly stepped forward and helped the girl up.

"Are you alright?"

Lyndon's movements were very gentle, as if he was afraid of causing her any more harm.

The girl stood up from the ground and silently shook her head.

It was only then that Lyndon got a clear look at the girl's face.

This is a young girl wearing a coarse cloth dress. She is very thin, as thin as a bamboo pole, and the wind could break her.

Her movements were somewhat stiff; it was unclear whether this was her natural posture or a result of being hit.

The girl's exposed neck and wrists were so pale they were almost transparent.

More importantly, she has a palm-sized scar on half of her face, which is from a burn.

Lyndon noticed the dust on the girl's skirt and wanted to brush it off for her.

But the girl suddenly shuddered, like a startled fawn, and took a step back, bumping her back against the sink and almost knocking over the plates inside.

Her eyes were large and should have been beautiful, but at that moment they were empty and lifeless.

His eyes were bloodshot and he had dark circles under his eyes.

She looked like she hadn't had a proper rest in a long time.

When the girl saw the stranger, Lyndon, she showed an instinctive panic. She lowered her head and nervously twisted her skirt in front of her.

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," Lyndon said softly.

But the girl was still trembling.

"Alright, alright!"

Old Bob said impatiently.

"You're just a lowly errand boy. Stop with your gentlemanly act! Use that energy to figure out how to entertain the guests tonight."

Old Bob pointed at the faucet: "Go wash your face over there, it's filthy! Giselle, get him a clean towel! I'll go find some clothes."

After saying that, he wrinkled his nose in disgust, turned around, and left the kitchen.

Giselle was terrified of old Bob, so she quickly found Lyndon a brand new towel and filled a basin with water for him.

How long have you been working here?

Linden scooped up some water and vigorously rubbed his face. The water was very cold, and the icy stimulation invigorated him.

He tried to chat with the girl, but she just went to clean the boiler.

Linden had no choice but to continue washing himself.

Before long, old Bob returned with a dark waiter's vest and shirt.

"Change into it, hurry up! We'll take you upstairs to have a look later!"

Lyndon took the clothes; they had a fresh, soapy scent.

After Lyndon changed his clothes, he bent down and looked at his reflection in the copper basin.

He was a handsome young man.

"Hmm, you look presentable now." Old Bob looked him up and down, his tone still sarcastic, but there was less disgust in his eyes.

"Come with me, let's get familiar with the way, so you don't wander around like a headless fly at night, not knowing what to do."

Old Bob said this as he walked out of the kitchen.

Lyndon took one last look at the girl's retreating figure, then quickly caught up with old Bob.

The girl was left alone in the kitchen again.

The girl suddenly stopped washing the pot. She slowly squatted down, hugged herself, and began to sob softly.

She dared not cry out loud, for fear of being heard, and she did not want to be beaten.

"Dad, where are you... I want to go home..."