Xianghai, the Walled City, Wujun Hair Salon.
“Ah Wen.” Fatty had a cigarette clamped between his lips. He held a crumpled stack of banknotes, peeled off a few, and said, “You worked twenty-six days this month. Five yuan a day. That’s one hundred thirty.”
Li Xiuwen took the money, counted it, then pulled out two ten-yuan notes. “Brother Jun, this is twenty too much.”
“I heard from your aunt that you want to learn boxing. Keep it. We’re fellow villagers; we should look out for each other out here.” Fatty took a couple of drags on his cigarette and smiled.
“Thanks, Brother Jun. Can I come back after New Year?” Li Xiuwen asked.
“Of course. But how long will it take to earn tuition doing odd jobs?”
“I don’t know...”
“I’ve got a lead. Interested?”
“What kind of lead?”
“I have a friend in Hequnying. We grew up together. We came from Sheng together...”
“Brother Jun, I’m timid. I don’t dare get mixed up with gangs...”
“If you’re timid, why learn boxing? Isn’t the point of learning boxing to fight?”
“I’m different. I learn boxing so I don’t have to fight.”
“Damn. That actually makes sense...”
“Thanks for the offer, Brother Jun. I wish you a prosperous New Year and a fortune.”
Li Xiuwen pushed open the yellowed glass door of the salon and stepped onto the narrow, gloomy street.
“Joining a gang does pay better, but without martial arts to back you up and no big boss watching over you, you’d just be another corpse left on the side of the road.”
“With bad luck, you end up as cannon fodder in a gang war, or the scapegoat when the boss screws up... Your whole life is finished.”
“And I’ve never even heard of this Hequnying. It must be a third-rate gang. Even if I made it to the top, there’d be no future in it.”
It wasn’t that Li Xiuwen didn’t want to join a gang.
In times like these, an ordinary person’s only chance of making something of themselves was through a gang.
But at the very least, he needed some means to stand on his own before going in, so he wouldn’t land in the ground the moment he got hired.
A jet airliner’s iron wings blotted out the sky as they swept over the Walled City, the roar echoing.
On the rain-soaked streets, where sewage ran everywhere, neon lights flickered.
Even the smell of Chaoji fish-ball noodles from next door to the salon could not cover the damp, stinking reek that had long permeated the air of the Walled City.
A drop of rain fell on Li Xiuwen’s brow.
“It’s raining.”
He wiped away the rain, tucked the money away, and jogged off.
As he crossed Guangwang Street, his steps grew faster and faster.
The “dragon-chasers” on the street, puffing clouds of smoke and swaying their heads, gave him a visceral discomfort.
The term “dragon-chasers” was the elegant nickname addicts gave themselves.
Compared with the prosperous world outside, the Walled City wasn’t large.
Yet this tiny patch of land might be home to over a million people.
No one knew the exact number.
Vagrants, all sorts of riffraff, outlaws, mainland toughs...
The Walled City was like a beast, constantly devouring people like Li Xiuwen who came to Xianghai chasing dreams.
...
On Longjin Road, in a ground-floor shack with no house number, a moldy sign read “Chen’s Noodle Factory.”
Li Xiuwen passed through the curtain of rain, wrung the water from his clothes at the entrance, and went inside.
A wave of hot steam swept over him, making the already stuffy, humid air even harder to breathe.
Inside the small room, less than thirty square meters, several boys and girls worked. Some were bare-chested; others wore undershirts.
Someone sat on a long bamboo pole, pressing down on a lump of dough.
Someone else flattened dough into sheets at an old machine, cut them into noodles, and piled them to one side.
This was Li Xiuwen’s home: a family workshop inside the Walled City that made bamboo-pressed noodles.
No license was required, no taxes were paid to the colonial government, and the workers were all child laborers, so costs were extremely low.
The conditions were terrible, but the price was unbeatable.
That was why these bamboo-pressed noodles ended up in the bellies of diners at many restaurants outside the Walled City.
Past the workshop was a living space of less than ten square meters.
Behind the curtain that screened off the bathroom, a woman in her early thirties poked her head out and smiled. “Home early today?”
The woman was Li Ying, the owner of the noodle factory and his aunt.
“New Year’s coming. Brother Jun let me off early.”
“There’s leftover claypot rice in the kitchen.”
“Got it. I’ll eat later.”
Li Xiuwen went to his bedroom, a storeroom of less than three square meters, and took the money hidden under the bed.
“Two thousand... almost enough for the apprenticeship fee.”
Li Xiuwen pulled out a yellowed calendar booklet. Every page was covered with admissions advertisements for Walled City martial arts schools that he had cut from newspapers.
“I wouldn’t even dare dream of famous names like Tiger-Crane, Buddha Worship, White Ape, or Iron Wire. Written pledge gifts, annual tuition, monthly meal fees, gifts for the three festivals and two birthdays...”
“If you want to learn boxing, you need at least ten thousand a year.”
“Nowadays, even a decent job in the Walled City pays only three hundred a month...”
“That’s not learning boxing. That’s robbery.”
“There are cheaper ones, though...”
“Places like Iron Fist Society and Mountain-Breaking Fist Academy don’t require an initiation gift, just one hundred a month.”
“But from what I’ve seen while staking them out, the old masters at those schools don’t seem to have real skills. That Iron Fist Society leader couldn’t even beat seven or eight hoodlums.”
“He can’t even fight ten people. What kind of martial arts school is that?”
Lying on his bed, Li Xiuwen went back and forth among dozens of admissions advertisements and finally settled on two martial arts schools.
“Night Heron Gymnasium teaches the Night Heron style. Its hallmark is endless variation, impossible to predict. It originated from the famous White Crane style.”
“Four Seas Gymnasium teaches the Sea Sand style: bold and sweeping, fierce and forceful... I haven’t heard that it has any famous heritage.”
“Night Heron Gymnasium’s apprenticeship fee is 3,300, with a monthly fee of 700. Four Seas Gymnasium’s apprenticeship fee is 3,000, with a monthly fee of 500.”
“Judging by reputation, Night Heron Gymnasium is better. Master Ye reached the ninth platform of the third ring of the Kowloon Grand Arena; he was almost to the fourth ring.”
“Master Huang Sihai is also a third-ring expert, but the Sea Sand style’s reputation among the common folk is worse. He’s an old miser.”
“Once I save enough, I’ll try Night Heron Gymnasium first.”
He put down the calendar. With a thought, Li Xiuwen’s consciousness arrived at an ancient mountain temple. Inside the temple was a shrine.
In the shrine sat an incense burner covered in verdigris. Its inner walls were packed with incense ash, but no incense was burning.
On the outer wall of the burner were three lines of small, antique gold-lettered words.
[Li Xiuwen]
[Martial skill: None]
[Stage: None]
Yes, Li Xiuwen was a transmigrator.
A month ago, he had been punched by Brother Ji, one of Longjin Road’s Thirteen Guardians, and knocked unconscious.
When he woke, the phrase “Only today do I know myself” surfaced in his mind. He had awakened innate insight, and a “censer” had appeared in his mind.
The censer’s function was simple: for every martial art he learned, he could light a stick of incense.
If he practiced diligently, he could keep it burning.
When the incense burned out, the martial skill was complete.
In simple terms: once attained, forever attained, with no bottleneck.
Now everything was ready; the only difficulty was that he had no master to lead him through the door.
Li Xiuwen casually opened the Ming Pao he had bought on the way back.
It was a newspaper focused on the culture and ecology of the martial path, published by Mr. Ming, the Walled City’s spokesman.
[“Dragon-Tiger Stories” sequel begins filming! Xianghai’s number one dragon-tiger martial artist, Mr. Dragon, has grown even stronger, leaping from the tenth floor without protection and landing unharmed!]
[Life-and-death battle at Yile Building! Detective Lei ignores the storm of bullets and kills five mainland toughs firing AKs!]
[The annual Crossing the River Tournament has concluded. The Walled City’s hundred schools gathered in martial contest, and Su Cha, chief disciple of Tiger-Crane Gymnasium, became the new martial arts champion!]