Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

These past few days, Chen Mo has been living a rather peaceful and comfortable life, with a sense of ease amidst the ordinariness.

Practice bone training during the day and breath training at night.

He would practice his knife skills whenever he had a spare moment and study how to modify paper figures.

Occasionally, I go out to buy groceries and bump into my neighbors.

At five o'clock in the morning, Old Zhou's sesame seed cake oven across the street would start smoking on time, and Aunt Zhang would not open the door of her grocery store until after seven o'clock.

In the evening, Grandpa Liu next door would move a small stool and sit under the locust tree, set up a chessboard, and wait for people to come and play a couple of games.

Chen Mo liked this kind of down-to-earth atmosphere.

Having witnessed countless deaths in the emergency room in his past life, he now finds the warmth and coldness of human relationships all the more real, even though the world has changed.

In their spare time, they can leisurely stroll to the alley entrance to buy a piece of hot tofu, pour on some chili oil, and squat by the roadside to eat it while sweating profusely.

There's a clothing store at the entrance of the alley. It's not a big storefront, and the signboard reads "Zhou Ji Clothing." The paint is a bit faded.

The girl with braids is named Zhou Nian. She comes from a family of tailors, and her skills have been passed down from her ancestors.

Master Zhou is an honest and hardworking craftsman who makes excellent clothes and is quite well-known in the area.

The Zhou family has three generations living together. They are not rich, but they have enough to eat and wear.

When they occasionally bump into each other on the street, they can nod and greet each other.

Days slipped by one by one.

That evening, after playing chess with Grandpa Liu, he was walking back when he pushed open the courtyard gate and saw something lying on the ground.

A piece of paper, folded into a square, was placed under a small stone.

Chen Mo picked it up, unfolded it, and saw a line of crooked words on it:

"Newcomers will receive a settlement allowance of one hundred silver dollars, to be prepared within three days. Failure to do so will result in disqualification, and the consequences will be borne by the individual."

There was no heading, no signature, no indication of who it was addressed to, and not even a date.

Chen Mo paused for two seconds, then flipped it over to look at the back; it was empty.

He stood in the yard for a while, pondering. He had heard of this thing before; it was called "diu tiao zi" (丢条子).

It was the local bully giving the new residents a hard time.

The question is, who should the money be given to?

There has to be a place to collect payments, right?

He put the note in his pocket and went inside to continue studying the paper figure modification.

The next morning, Chen Mo went to buy sesame seed cakes as usual.

Old Zhou was putting pancakes into the oven when he saw him arrive and greeted him with a smile, "Mr. Chen, the usual?"

"The usual." Chen Mo handed over two copper coins and casually asked, "Uncle Zhou, I have something to ask you."

"Please speak."

Chen Mo took out the slip of paper and handed it over: "Have you seen this before?"

Old Zhou glanced at it, his expression changed slightly, and his hand trembled, almost causing the pancake to fall into the oven.

He pushed the note back, looked around, and lowered his voice: "Don't ask me, I don't know anything."

After saying that, he buried his head in making pancakes and refused to say another word.

Chen Mo thoughtfully put away the note, picked up the sesame seed cake, and walked back.

As I walked to the alley entrance, I ran into Aunt Zhang picking vegetables at the door.

"Good morning, Aunt Zhang."

"Good morning, Mr. Chen." Aunt Zhang looked up with a smile, but when she saw the note in his hand, her smile froze for a moment. She then lowered her head nonchalantly. "The vegetables are fresh today, shall I save some for you later?"

Chen Mo squatted down and handed the note to her: "Aunt Zhang, have you seen this before?"

Aunt Zhang raised her head, her eyes darting around: "Mr. Chen, this matter... please don't ask this old woman, I don't know anything about it."

"Then do you know who to ask?"

She was silent for a moment, then gestured towards the depths of the alley: "The house under the big locust tree inside, the one with two pots of oleander by the door, belongs to Elder Ma, the head of the local security bureau. You can ask him."

"Thank you, Aunt Zhang."

Chen Mo nodded, took the sesame seed cake and walked back. Instead of going home, he headed straight into the depths of the alley.

That big locust tree is easy to spot; two pots of oleanders are in full bloom under it.

He knocked on the door, and after a short while, a thin, middle-aged man poked his head out, looked him up and down, and asked, "Who are you?"

"We just moved in, to that Western-style house at the street corner, our surname is Chen." Chen Mo cupped his hands in greeting. "Are you Chief Ma?"

"It's me." Old Ma narrowed his eyes. "Did you need something?"

Chen Mo took out a slip of paper and handed it over: "I received this this morning and wanted to ask you about it. What kind of underworld rules does this belong to? And who should I give this money to?"

Old Ma took the note, glanced at it, his expression changed slightly, then he forced a smile: "Oh, Mr. Chen, this... I'm not really sure either. Maybe someone was just joking, please don't take it to heart."

"A joke?" Chen Mo stared at him. "Then how do you think we should respond to this joke?"

Old Ma chuckled twice: "Well... why don't you just ignore it? It'll be fine in a couple of days."

Chen Mo looked at him indifferently: "Chief Ma, you make it sound so easy. If I ignore it, will someone tear down my gate in a couple of days?"

Old Ma's smile froze, and he couldn't say a word.

Chen Mo stopped beating around the bush and took out the inspection bureau's token from his pocket.

The token was small, about the size of a palm, with an ebony base and a seal script character "稽" engraved on the front.

Old Ma's eyes widened.

Of course he recognized it; it was the inspection bureau's token, and seeing the token was like seeing the person.

The Inspection Bureau is a department that specializes in dealing with shady dealings. Although it doesn't officially concern itself with the affairs of ordinary people, when those people really get involved, even the police station doesn't dare to get involved.

Old Ma's legs started to tremble, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

But he was, after all, a man who had served as a village head for many years; he was quick-witted and sharp-minded.

The dock gang couldn't afford to offend the people from the inspection bureau, and neither could he, but the best strategy was to avoid offending either side.

"Oh dear!" Old Ma slapped his thigh, his expression instantly shifting from panic to sudden realization. "Mr. Chen, you should have said you were from the Inspection Bureau! This must be a mistake!"

Chen Mo looked at him: "A mistake?"

"There must be a mistake!" Old Ma said with certainty and unwavering conviction. "These people who drop off notices are blind. They only target new residents without even doing their research! Someone of your status doesn't need to pay any resettlement fees!"

"It's a misunderstanding, purely a misunderstanding!"

Chen Mo didn't reply, but simply put the token back in his pocket and looked at him indifferently.

Old Ma felt uneasy under his gaze and chuckled dryly, "Mr. Chen, don't worry, I'll put in a good word for you. From now on, no one in this area will dare to throw a note at you again."

"So, who should I give this money to?"

"No need to pay! Nobody needs to pay!" Old Ma waved his hands repeatedly. "Just pretend this never happened. If they ask, I'll cover for you."

Chen Mo looked at him and suddenly asked, "Chief Ma, who is this person who dropped the note?"

Old Ma's smile froze for a moment, then returned to normal: "These... they're just some thugs, nothing to worry about, don't take them to heart."

"Thugs?" Chen Mo nodded. "If I want to meet them, where should I look?"

Old Ma chuckled twice: "Mr. Chen, why bother? You're a magnanimous person, there's no need to stoop to their level..."

Chen Mo interrupted him: "I just wanted to ask, where do we look for it?"

Old Ma opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and then lowered his voice to say, "There's a guy named Wang Mazi at the South City Wharf. But Mr. Chen, please don't tell him you heard about him from me..."

"Thank you." Chen Mo cupped his hands in thanks, then turned and left.

Old Ma called out from behind, "Mr. Chen, you really don't need to go. I can take care of this for you..."

He waved his hand without turning his head.