From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

The north wind was like a knife, cutting along the old course of the Huai River.

Zhu Hong stood on the stone steps of the ferry crossing, watching the ferry boats coming and going and the hunched porters carrying sacks. After a moment's thought, he walked toward the wonton stall. The old man was tending a coal stove that was emitting white steam, tapping the edge of the pot with a spoon to call out his wares. When he saw the man in official uniform approaching, a look of unease appeared on his face.

"Sir."

He rubbed his hands together and smiled apologetically, "Would you like a bowl of wontons? They'll be hot and warm you up."

Zhu He waved his hand, took out a few copper coins from his waist and placed them by the stove:

"Old man, may I ask you something?"

"Please speak, sir." The old man was not in a hurry to take the money, but rubbed his hands on the greasy apron again and again: "If I knew anything, I would not dare to hide it."

"The headquarters of the charitable organization."

Zhu Hong asked casually, "I heard it's near the river lane, but which residence is it?"

It's true that the charity is a local tyrant entrenched in several slum alleys, but the head of the organization has vaguely heard that it's not located in the alleys, but rather rooted at the mouth of the Huai River. However, he has never set foot at the mouth of the Huai River, so he has to ask people nearby to find out the exact location of the charity.

Inquire about charitable institutions?

The old man's copper ladle clattered back into the pot. He hurriedly scooped it out, his eyes darting left and right. "Sir, you're asking about this..." His lips trembled as he managed to squeeze out the mumbled words:

"This old man is confused and doesn't quite know. Why don't we ask someone else?"

As he spoke, he actually tried to push the few coins back.

Zhu Hong knew perfectly well what was going on.

This "charitable hall" has been like a vicious dragon that has been entrenched for a long time, and has long become a dark and murky pool. How could an ordinary person dare to throw a stone at it?

"Please speak freely, sir."

He simply softened his voice, but his gaze was sharp as a knife: "I'm only going there to ask for directions; I won't let you be resented for no reason afterward."

The old man's eyes flickered, and he swallowed hard, as if weighing his options.

Finally, remembering that the charitable hall's pleasure boat was moored on the river, and that it was not exactly a secret with people coming and going, he swallowed hard and said, "Sir... if you go east along the Huai River and pass two stone arch bridges, you will see a three-story white-painted ship moored at the dock." He paused, a hint of apprehension still lingering in his eyes.

"That ship, that's it."

A pleasure boat?

Zhu Hong raised an eyebrow, his surprise barely concealed: "You mean, the hideouts of those street thugs aren't residences, but rather on a boat?"

"Yes...yes."

The old man's voice grew softer, almost disappearing into the wind: "That boat is very impressive; you can see it from afar."

Zhu Hong said no more, a small piece of silver slipped from his sleeve and fell silently into the woodpile beside the old man's stove. He turned and left, his dark robes disappearing into the deepening twilight.

Having received confirmation, Zhu Hong nodded slightly:

"Thank you, sir." With that, he slipped a small piece of silver from his sleeve, placed it on the old man's stove, and turned to leave.

……

As the setting sun disappeared and a layer of crab-shell-green twilight rose on the river surface, Zhu Hong stood at the highest point of the third bridge arch.

Looking out from the railing:

The Huai River lazily bends at this point, and the water surface suddenly widens.

Just as the old man had said, the white dragon painted boat was indeed pure white, with its three-tiered eaves and brackets all carved with dragons holding pearls in their mouths. Strings of red lanterns lit up one after another under the eaves, casting a warm glow on the Mo River, rippling like scattered gold, making the whole boat look like a glass palace.

A black plaque with gold lettering hangs at the bow of the ship, bearing the inscription:

"White Dragon Restaurant".

"This is... the den of local tyrants?" Zhu Hong's eyes narrowed, realizing that he had always underestimated this force.

He had thought that the charity hall was nothing more than a den of iniquity, but what he saw before him was a scene of extravagance and debauchery, with people coming and going dressed in fine clothes, chatting and laughing, unlike the newly rich people who exploit the common people.

"When it's going to rain, people have to travel; there's no way to avoid it."

He muttered something to himself, straightened his official uniform collar, gripped the iron-sheathed sword at his waist, and slowly made his way to the pleasure boat.

They walked down to the boat.

It should be a gathering of refined people, mostly when the stars are low in the night.

But we see:

In the Green Hall.

A hundred beauties, each with her own unique charm.

The sounds of string and wind instruments, mixed with the banter of men and women, drinking games, and singing girls, wafted from dozens of carved and painted courtyards and pavilions, transforming the "White Dragon Restaurant" into a fragrant and decadent sea of ​​desire.

"What a 'gentle and wealthy' place."

He stood in front of the gangplank of the pleasure boat, and without further hesitation, stepped onto it.

"My lord, please stay."

The two burly men guarding the cabin door immediately looked up.

Seeing the newcomer in official robes, with an iron sword at his waist, but an unfamiliar face, the official immediately put on a smile that was three parts smile and seven parts scrutiny. He cupped his hands and said, "This official is a stranger. Is this your first time visiting our White Dragon Boat?" His words seemed respectful, but contained a hidden sarcasm: "I wonder if you've accepted an invitation from some young master, or if you booked a private room in advance?" He smiled and said:

"If there are instructions, the servants are easy to serve."

"No need for such service." Zhu Hong paused slightly, cutting him off:

"Is Li Hangke on the boat?"

The pockmarked man paused, then his smile deepened.

"So you're Brother Li's distinguished guest!"

He immediately frowned deeply and lowered his voice, saying, "Unfortunately, Brother Li took a few brothers out on business half an hour ago and hasn't returned to the boat yet."

"work?"

Zhu Hong raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, his mind clearing instantly.

His explanation had probably been exposed, and the newly added yamen runners' register had likely not been discovered. The word "service" was most likely directed at him, this "troublemaker."

He remained calm and asked casually:

"Could we go and get someone named Zhu Hong?"

Ma Zi's expression changed slightly, a flash of wariness crossing his eyes: "How did you know, sir...?"

"Go and find him and bring him back."

Zhu Hong said no more and went straight into the cabin, saying that his old friend was waiting for him to have a drink with him.

As soon as the words were spoken, the person had already brushed past them and entered.

The two men froze on the spot. The man who was about to stop them had just raised his hand when the pockmarked man grabbed his sleeve tightly.

"Are you crazy?" Ma Zi lowered his voice, his eyes darting quickly left and right.

"He was in full official uniform, carrying a sword, and he was pulling at things at the entrance of the boat, alarming the distinguished guests inside. How many heads do you and I have to bear the consequences?"

The man who was stopping people said urgently:

"Then, we'll just let him barge in?"

"Follow quietly, observe from a distance, and do not disturb." The pockmarked man's gaze fell upon the brightly lit, shadowy corridor within the boat.

"I will report to the supervisor; I know what I'm doing."

"Alright... let's do it this way." The other person gritted his teeth and nodded, then shrugged and lowered his head, blending into the bustling procession of servants and maids carrying trays and handing out towels, trailing behind the figure in black at a distance.

Ma Zi then turned around and headed straight for the steward's quarters inside the cabin.

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P.S.: I'm saying this three times because the next chapter will involve a bit of a "scale" issue, and the author has had to revise it several times, which may result in working overtime and staying up late to make further revisions.

PS2: However, the content should remain largely unchanged.

PS3: Thanks to Zhao Qingmei's husband, a self-proclaimed shareholder, for the 8 monthly passes.

Thank you! Thank you!