Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

I had just put my luggage in the trunk when I heard a commotion from the other side of the street.

Chen Mo looked in the direction of the sound and saw three or four people standing in the doorway of Old Zhou's paper-making shop at the front of the street, as if they were collecting something.

Chen Dachuan walked out of the door at some point and glanced in the direction of his gaze.

"After the Black Tiger Gang fell, a group called the Little Knife Society has recently emerged."

"Extorting protection money?"

"They call it a sanitation management fee."

"This group is different from the Black Tiger Gang. The Black Tiger Gang smashes doors and overturns stalls, that's the style of bandits. The Little Knife Society, on the other hand, uses a softer approach."

"If you don't hand it over, he'll stab himself repeatedly at your doorstep, first his arm, then his thigh, until he's covered in blood..."

The group had already taken the money from Old Zhou's family and was heading to the next house.

The leader was a lean man in his early thirties who walked with a slight pigeon-toed gait, but his steps were steady. His left arm was wrapped in gauze, which was stained with dark red blood.

Three young men followed closely behind, whispering to each other every now and then.

Chen Mo turned his gaze from the group of people to Chen Dachuan's face. "Did our family pay?"

"These people only charge thirty or fifty coins. Your Aunt Liu said that it's better to lose money than to cause trouble. It's not worth arguing with these people."

Chen Dachuan glanced at him and added, "Besides, you have a lot going on in Jinshi. We can handle things at home ourselves, so we won't trouble you."

"Alright."

Chen Mo withdrew his gaze, reached out and opened the car door, "I'll come back again in a while."

Chen Dachuan grunted in response, without asking why or saying anything else. He just stood there with his pipe in his mouth, squinting at the group of people who were gradually approaching.

The lean man who walked over glanced at the black Ford sedan, then looked at Chen Dachuan standing next to the car.

He paused for a moment, then led his three henchmen past the entrance of Du'e Zhai.

They simply bypassed them.

Chen Mo's gaze followed the group's retreating figures for a moment. "They're gone."

Aunt Liu also came out of the yard at some point, standing half a step behind Chen Dachuan, and waved in the direction of the car.

......

Funeral Street at the end of the street.

The lean man and his three henchmen slowed down after turning into the alley.

After walking a dozen steps, one of the henchmen behind him couldn't help but ask, "Brother Dao, why didn't that other place accept us?"

"His son already drives a car, he's so rich, it's a good opportunity to collect more..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Brother Dao suddenly stopped in his tracks and stared intently at the underling who had spoken.

The younger brother was rooted to the spot by that gaze, his mouth agape, the rest of his words stuck in his throat.

"What's your name?"

"Brother Dao, my name is A Dong. I just started working for you last month."

"Ah Dong."

He nodded. "You'll go sweep the streets with Fengxi tomorrow. Use your brain first..."

------

After leaving Linhe County, it had only been twenty miles when it got dark.

The clouds hung low, heavy, leaden gray, with bluish-black edges.

Chen Mo glanced at the sky and rolled up the car window.

Less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the first drop of rain hit the windshield.

With a "crack," it sounded like something had fallen from a great height and shattered, followed by a deluge of raindrops, so dense it felt like someone was pouring a basin of water down from the sky.

The yellow soil on the road surface turned into sticky mud after being soaked by the rain, and when the car wheels rolled over it, you could feel the rear of the car swinging slightly outwards.

Chen Mo frowned and slowed down the car.

The fields on both sides of the road were completely out of sight, and the distant villages had also disappeared; only a gray, misty rain curtain remained between heaven and earth.

Traveling in this weather isn't impossible, but it's too tiring.

He slowed down and kept looking out for shelter from the rain.

After driving another half mile, a fork in the road appeared by the side of the road, and at the end of the fork, the outline of a house could be vaguely seen.

Looking at the outline of the eaves, it resembles a temple.

Chen Mo turned the steering wheel, and the car turned onto the side road.

The side road was in worse condition than the main road, with mud and water accumulating in the ruts. When the wheels rolled over it, the mud splashed higher than the car door.

The Ford wobbled a few times in the mud, its chassis scraping against a stone on the road with a muffled thud, but it managed to reach the temple entrance without any major incident.

This is a dilapidated mountain god temple.

Most of the white plaster on the gable wall has peeled off, revealing broken bricks and yellow soil underneath. Clumps of wild grass grow at the base of the wall, bent and twisted by the rain.

The two temple doors were open, one of which had come loose from its tenon and was leaning against the door frame, creaking loudly in the wind.

Chen Mo parked the car in the open space outside the temple gate, took a package from the passenger seat, and stepped into the temple in a few steps despite the rain.

The inside of the temple wasn't much brighter than the outside.

The main hall is not large, only three or four zhang deep. In the center is a statue of a mountain god. The paint has peeled off so much that its original appearance is no longer visible. Only the outline of a seated figure can be seen.

The offering table in front of the statue is still there, with several broken bowls and a pile of incense ash left over from who knows when.

Chen Mo wasn't the only one in the hall.

On the west corner of the main hall, there was an oilcloth, on which sat an old man and a child.

The old man was in his sixties, wearing a drab gray padded jacket and a tattered felt hat on his head.

He was holding a seven or eight-year-old boy in his arms. The boy was as thin as a monkey and looked timidly at Chen Mo.

Three men were squatting at the corner of the wall on the east side of the main hall.

They were all in their thirties, dressed in the same short-sleeved shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, revealing their thick forearms.

His clothes were mostly wet and clung to his body, revealing his strong muscles underneath.

With a carrying pole and hemp rope at his feet, he looked like a porter carrying goods or a peddler going from village to village.

In the center of the main hall, next to the offering table, stood two people.

They were two young people who looked like students, a boy and a girl, around seventeen or eighteen years old.

A rattan box sat at the feet of the two people, its lid splattered with mud, making them look like students on their way.

When Chen Mo stepped into the temple, everyone's eyes turned to him.

The three burly men's gazes swept over him, then glanced at the temple gate behind him.

The black Ford sedan was parked in the open space. It was not very clear in the rain, but its outline looked completely out of place next to the dilapidated mountain temple.

The square-faced man squatting on the far side glanced at Chen Mo and muttered something to the person next to him.

"It's unbelievable that a rickshaw driver would squeeze into a dilapidated temple like us."

The sound wasn't loud, but the temple was quiet, and the rain was distant, so everyone could hear it clearly.

The round-faced man next to him nudged him with his elbow and gave him a wink, meaning he should say less.

The square-faced man snorted dismissively, looked away, and began fiddling with the carrying pole at his feet.

Chen Mo glanced at him, then found a clean corner and took out a piece of burlap from his bag to use as a cushion to sit down.