Willow Leaf Street teemed with peddlers and passersby, but Chen Ping'an and his companions had not come across any brawls or gang fights.
Weishui Commandery City was no ordinary small town; it was a commandery city, orderly and well-run. Although there were gangs and factions large and small, everyone observed an unspoken understanding, and without any special need, fighting simply did not happen.
Well, at least, that was how things appeared on the surface!
No matter how fierce the private struggles were, they had to stay private!
If a large-scale brawl broke out in broad daylight, where would the face of the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office be put? If such a thing happened, they would be beaten to death before anything else!
An entire morning passed with nothing happening.
The Nanquan Lane Suppression Office provided lunch at noon. After patrolling the street all morning, Chen Ping'an, Monkey, and Dashan returned to the office to eat.
Usually, the few of them ate back at the office. After all, eating outside cost money. Saving that money—what couldn't it be used for?
Unless someone was treating them, they would not eat outside.
The food at the office was neither good nor bad: one small meat dish slick with oil, two vegetable dishes still fairly fresh, and cooked rice enough to fill one's belly.
They got their food, found a spot, sat down right where they were, and started eating.
Having eaten only congee that morning, and having patrolled the street all morning, Chen Ping'an was naturally famished. He did not know if it was connected to beginning to cultivate Iron Shirt, but his appetite today was far better than usual. He ate three big bowls of cooked rice in a row before stopping.
Monkey looked at this posture and scene, somewhat startled.
"Ping'an, what's wrong with you today! Are you like a starving ghost reborn!?"
"I didn't eat enough this morning, and I really am hungry today."
Chen Ping'an gave an embarrassed laugh.
"These dishes, I'm truly sick of them. The same few things over and over!"
Looking at the small meat dish slick with oil, Monkey griped.
Of the few of them, his family background was the best, so he was a bit pickier about the taste of food.
Chen Ping'an had not yet replied when Dashan beside him let out an extremely loud belch.
"Burp~"
"You blockhead!"
Monkey slapped Dashan.
Dashan gave a silly laugh and scratched his head.
The life he was living now—by his family's standards, it was nothing less than the life of an immortal. No heavy labor, no facing the yellow earth with his back to the sky; just wearing a saber and walking around, and there was food to eat!
Simply...
And walking the street, it was imposing as well!
"The head runners live well! Their food is so much better than ours!"
Monkey put down his half-eaten meal, put his hands behind his head, and sighed deeply.
At the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office, registered runners and unregistered temporary runners received the same treatment at lunch. But at the level of head runners, the food was far better.
According to the three men's usual observations, a head runner could enjoy at least two meat dishes, with vegetable dishes available without limit. Moreover, those two meat dishes were not like their small meat dishes; they were substantial meat dishes with plenty of oil!
"Envious?"
Chen Ping'an glanced at Monkey.
"Envious? Then go cultivate martial arts! Head runners are all martial arts masters. Without enough rich food, where would they find the strength and qi and blood to cultivate martial arts!?"
Hearing about cultivating martial arts, Monkey deflated like a punctured bag.
"Forget it, forget it, I'm just not that material! Dashan can. Right, Dashan?"
"Mm, I've been practicing my strength all along!"
Dashan said in a muffled voice.
"Hahaha, Dashan is the one with ambition! Keep practicing, and when you make it, Ping'an and I will be impressive too."
Monkey slapped Dashan's shoulder hard, smiling.
"......"
Chen Ping'an watched the two of them banter, feeling reassured and full of drive.
The level of head runner allowed them to enjoy a completely different food standard. What about the office chief!?
The office chief and deputy office chief of the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office had dedicated attendants bringing them meals every day. Whatever they wanted to eat, they could have it, with no restrictions on supply!
In this Nanquan Lane, the two sirs were the heavens to everyone!
Food was only a small reflection of the differences between levels; what it represented behind the scenes was... power!
...
After eating, Chen Ping'an and the other two rested a while in the office, then went to Willow Leaf Street again to patrol.
At noon, the sun was directly overhead. They said they were patrolling, but they were not actually so dedicated to their duty. They found a rather secluded spot and lay half-reclining under the trees, resting easy.
Eating at the Suppression Office was good! If they were other attendants or helpers, where would they get the chance to rest and loaf like this?
First resting openly and aboveboard, then sneaking off to loaf, and still receiving a monthly stipend at the end.
Coming and going like this—simply, they were making a killing!
Usually, Chen Ping'an rested for half a shichen, just to make up for sleep. But today, perhaps because he was tired from practicing Iron Shirt yesterday, he actually slept for nearly a shichen.
When he woke up, Monkey and Dashan had already started chatting. Chen Ping'an, after waking, joined their idle chat as well. Things like street gossip and family matters—every day there were fresh topics. Although the three saw each other often, they could never seem to talk enough.
They rested under the trees for more than a shichen before slowly getting up to continue patrolling.
By this time, Willow Leaf Street was much livelier. Even the hoodlums who did not show up much in the morning could be seen now and then.
Small-time punks who were nothing to speak of, seeing them walking the street with sabers at their waists, would run away from afar. But some old hands who had joined gangs were not afraid when they saw the three.
Of course, not being afraid was one thing, but no one was foolish enough to deliberately come and provoke them.
When they saw the three, these hoodlums either ignored them or gave a slight nod in greeting.
Something like deliberately coming up to offer greetings—that happened very, very rarely! Apart from a few slick hoodlums who were good at scheming, the rest had no such interest.
After all, although the three wore an official veneer, they were nothing but unregistered temporary runners.
Walking the street might be imposing, but in the end they had little real authority. When their shift ended, the waist tokens and sabers had to be returned.
To have hoodlums actively greet them or even flatter them—Old Qin himself was not qualified enough! At the very least, it took senior runners who had hopes of becoming head runners.
As the three talked, time flew by. That day, nothing happened.
Seeing that the time was about right, Chen Ping'an, Monkey, and Dashan returned to the Nanquan Lane Suppression Office to hand in their shift.
By that time, the three still had not seen Old Qin's face.
When it came to loafing on the job, Old Qin was the one. What they did—sleeping under the trees for a shichen or two shichen—was nothing at all.
After returning the waist tokens and sabers, the three bid farewell and each went home."}
Chapter 8