Chapter 2: Let It Begin!

The porters nearby exchanged glances and shook their heads when Liu Shen mentioned the matter.

Hu Dahai glanced back, speaking quietly, “I’ve heard recently that a fighter from the Qingsha Gang died on the Chishui Gang’s turf. The two gangs are still bickering, and maybe the foreman wants to drag us in as muscle.”

The Chishui Gang and the Qingsha Gang were the two major underworld factions in Heyang County.

Given their proximity to the canal, both gangs belonged to the larger Canal Alliance, but with two tigers on one mountain and competing trades, conflicts of interest were inevitable.

With such conflicts, the relationship between Chishui Gang and Qingsha Gang was naturally antagonistic, leading to frequent clashes.

Originally, the Chishui Gang dominated the county’s underworld, controlling sixty percent of the brothels, gambling dens, escort agencies, and docks. The remaining thirty or forty percent were held by small allied gangs, who depended on the Chishui Gang’s favor for survival.

However, a few years ago, the Qingsha Gang orchestrated a long-planned bloody fight, eliminating some of the smaller gangs and absorbing others, thus claiming nearly half the county’s brothels, gambling dens, escort agencies, and docks.

The balance of power thus shifted, and the underworld was now a two-way contest between Chishui Gang and Qingsha Gang.

In those years, the two gangs often erupted in violent conflict, costing many lives. Eventually, the officials from Anqing Prefecture intervened, and the Canal Alliance sent mediators, which finally brought peace.

In the past two years, all-out gang wars had become rare. Even when minor skirmishes occurred, both sides quietly mustered manpower for private confrontations—showing off their strength.

This was the origin of the term “drafting muscle.”

Liu Shen had served as “muscle” several times—tying a red cloth to his shoulder, wielding a machete, and shouting menacingly among crowds to bolster their presence.

An older porter snorted and muttered, “They won’t only draft us porters. I bet Foreman Xu’s taking a private job.”

“That’s true,” Hu Dahai nodded, but before he could say more, Foreman Xu entered the dining hall, and he fell silent.

Foreman Xu saw that the long-term workers—haulers and boatmen—had already finished eating and left. Only the porters remained, which pleased him. He dragged a bench over, set his whip aside, and beckoned with a cheerful smile, “Come, sit.”

The porters glanced at each other, uncertain of his intentions but not daring to disobey, so they gathered around.

Liu Shen was among them, quiet and inconspicuous.

Foreman Xu swept his gaze over them and asked with a smile, “Was the braised pork good today?”

Everyone nodded, with only a few bold ones echoing, “It was good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Foreman Xu knew he’d been too heavy-handed and unpopular, so he didn’t dwell, cutting straight to the point, “I won’t beat around the bush. I kept you after lunch because I have something to assign.”

“I’ve taken a private job today. The Song family in the south of town needs a stone statue moved outside the city. It’s heavy—probably a thousand to two thousand pounds—so I need eight strong porters.”

“I’m your foreman, and this is my private job. I can’t let you work for nothing.”

“So, anyone willing to do it gets two silver beans each!”

The hall fell silent.

Foreman Xu’s greed and womanizing were well known; taking private jobs on the side was routine. But offering extra wages for such a job was rare.

And two silver beans!

A porter’s monthly wage was seven silver coins, two of which went as “tax” to the Canal Alliance, leaving only five in hand.

This private job offered two silver coins—how could they not be tempted?

Yet their excitement was tinged with fear.

“Foreman, maybe you should clarify things,” the older porter grinned sheepishly, “We have no skills but brute strength. But you know us, we’re rough folks. If that statue’s valuable and gets damaged, we could never repay it, even if we sold our lives…”

“It’s not valuable,” Foreman Xu waved it off and smiled, “In fact, the statue’s being moved out to be smashed, so no worries about damage.”

The porters relaxed at that, and several immediately wanted to accept the job.

“But I must be clear…” Foreman Xu’s eyes flickered, “The statue is special—a Bodhisattva. And the client requires it to be carried all the way out of town without touching the ground. The Song residence is over a mile from the city gate.”

Hearing they’d be carrying a Bodhisattva statue, and that it mustn’t touch the ground, only to be destroyed outside the city, the porters were dumbfounded.

Recovering, they all shook their heads vigorously, ignoring Foreman Xu’s darkening expression.

People of the time were deeply superstitious…

For Foreman Xu to take a job moving a Bodhisattva statue out to be smashed—the act itself was sacrilegious!

Who would dare accept?

Moments ago, the pay seemed generous; now they wished they hadn’t heard any of it.

Foreman Xu understood the problem. Otherwise, the client would not have offered up to a hundred silver coins for the task. He reassured them, “Don’t worry, it’ll be done at night—no one will see.”

Still, the porters shook their heads; none would accept.

But Foreman Xu knew these rough laborers well—if one took the lead, the rest would follow. So he wasn’t worried.

“Three coins…” he pulled out a money pouch, grabbed a handful of bean-sized silver pieces, and played with them in his palm. “Anyone willing can come get three silver beans from me now.”

The porters’ Adam’s apples bobbed at the sight, but fear of sacrilege kept their greed in check.

Liu Shen, among them, was tempted but didn’t speak.

Four years ago, the flood left many homeless. Back then, everyone scrambled for Canal Alliance work like wild dogs fighting for scraps.

Thus, the Chishui Gang imposed the rule: “You must sign a labor contract to eat Canal Alliance food.”

Selling oneself was easy; redeeming one’s freedom was hard.

It required real silver.

He needed silver.

Desperately…

“Four coins!” Foreman Xu snorted, “Anyone willing can claim four silver beans now. When the job’s done, I’ll give them three days off, no deduction from their monthly wage!”

Foreman Xu scanned the crowd. The porters all looked away, avoiding his gaze.

Just as he was about to threaten and cajole, a voice came from the crowd, “The Song family you mentioned—is that the one who set up porridge tents and distributed relief during the flood four years ago?”

Foreman Xu didn’t know who spoke, but he answered, “Indeed, Master Song is one of the county’s leading gentry. He did set up porridge tents and give out relief during the flood.”

The voice replied, “Five silver beans. I’ll do it.”

Foreman Xu chuckled inwardly, but kept his face calm, “Who just said they’d take the job?”

Liu Shen stepped out of the crowd and stood before him, “Foreman, it’s me.”

Foreman Xu looked him over, as if recalling his name, “I remember you eat a lot… What’s your name again…”

“Liu Shen.”

“That’s right, Liu Shen!” Foreman Xu slapped his forehead and laughed, “If I recall, you were just a teenager when you were sold here to eat Canal Alliance food, correct?”

“Correct.” Liu Shen nodded, “My hometown was destroyed by the flood. I fled here. If not for Canal Alliance food, I might have starved on the streets at thirteen.”

“Good, you’ve grown strong.” Foreman Xu didn’t linger on his story, asking, “You said you’d take the job for five silver beans?”

“Yes!”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid of what?” Liu Shen shrugged, “I drank Song family’s relief porridge. This is a debt of gratitude. What’s there to fear? Besides, poverty shortens ambition. If I’m not afraid of being poor, why fear a stone statue?”

“Haha, well said!” Foreman Xu burst out laughing, pinching a larger piece of broken silver from his hand, “Didn’t you ask for five silver beans? I like you—you get one tael of silver!”

“Thank you, Foreman…” Liu Shen knew he was being used as bait; had anyone else volunteered, they’d have gotten the same excuse and extra silver. So he accepted, thanked him, and took the silver.

He pocketed it and returned to his seat, quiet and humble.

Seeing Liu Shen pocket a whole tael of silver, the other porters grew restless and scrambled to speak up, afraid to miss their chance.

“Foreman, I’ll take the job!”

“Foreman, count me in!”

“I’ll do it too!”

As with all herd creatures, people or animals, there’s always some tendency to follow the crowd.

For these rough laborers, two silver coins was sacrilege, but a tael was divine favor.

“Enough, enough!” Foreman Xu laughed coldly, sizing up the dozen who spoke, “Liu Shen’s words pleased me, so he gets a tael. As for you…”

He tapped the table, “Five coins each.”

The crowd quieted, realizing the pay was not a tael.

Foreman Xu continued, “It’s just moving a statue. Five coins is plenty. Liu Shen is one; I need seven more.”

“Five coins is fine!” Wei Dafu stepped forward, “My wife just gave birth to a son; I need to earn more to see them!”

“Good…” Foreman Xu nodded and handed him seven silver beans, “The extra two are a red packet for your son.”

“Thank you, Foreman!” Wei Dafu grinned, accepting the silver.

Foreman Xu didn’t spare him another glance, turning to the others and tapping the table, “I need six more.”

“Foreman, count me in!”

“And me!”

“Me too!”

Soon, the remaining six received five silver beans each.

With the private job’s crew decided, Foreman Xu was satisfied. Laborers were laborers; a few words meant ninety taels of silver in his pocket—a pleasant outcome.

As dusk approached, he picked up his whip, scanning them with a fierce glare, and warned, “Those not taking the job, I won’t trouble you, but keep your mouths shut. If I hear a word, you’ll bear the consequences!”

Then he changed his tone, “Those taking the job, go rest for a bit. In an hour, follow me to work.”

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