“All day long,” said Huang Rong, “these cicadas call out ‘zhi le, zhi le’ endlessly, but whatever they know is unknown. Basically, even among insects there are guys who boast shamelessly. It makes me think of a particular person, and I rather miss him.”
“Who?” demanded Guo Jing.
“That big talker of bull,” said Huang Rong, smiling, “the Iron Palm’s Qiu ‘Floats-Over-Water’
Qianren!”
Guo Jing laughed loudly. “That old trickster…!” he began.
He hadn’t finished speaking when suddenly, from a corner of the restaurant, they heard somebody speaking in a mysterious voice: “Looking down even on ‘Floats-Over-Water’ Elder Qiu of Iron Palm? That’s some big talk!” Guo Jing and Huang Rong glanced at where the voice was coming from and saw a middle-aged beggar, with a swarthy complexion and clad in a tattered jacket, squatting by the corner and looking at them in snickering laughter.
Guo Jing, seeing that he was a Beggar Gang figure, immediately relaxed. Noticing that he had an agreeable expression, Guo Jing clasped his hands in respect and said: “Senior, how about joining us and drinking a cup or three?”
“Sure!” said the beggar, coming over at once.
Huang Rong ordered an extra cup and set of chopsticks from a waiter. Pouring the cup with wine, she said with a smile: “Please take a seat, and drink up!”
“Beggar here doesn’t deserve a seat,” he answered. Sitting right there on the floorboards, he took out a broken bowl and a pair of bamboo chopsticks from a pocket. Extending the bowl, he said:
“The leftovers you’re finished with – dump some over, and they’ll do for me.”
“That’d be a bit too disrespectful!” said Guo Jing. “Whatever dishes senior would like to eat, we’ll order them up from the kitchen.”
“A beggar does as a beggar looks,” said the beggar. “If he’s one in name only – just feigning the accent and affecting the appearance – might as well not be a beggar. If you agree to hand it out, then hand it out. If not, I’m going someplace else to beg for food!”
Huang Rong took a glance at Guo Jing. “Indeed!” she laughed. “You said it right!” They then tipped all their leftover food into the broken bowl. The beggar grabbed a few clumps of cold rice from inside a pocket and, along with the leftovers, began eating them up zestfully.
Secretly, Huang Rong counted the number of pockets on him: there were three pockets to a cluster, and three clusters in total – in sum, nine pockets. Having another look at the three beggars around
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the other table, each of them was wearing nine pockets as well, but on their table was a lavish spread of food and drink. Those three acted as if they hadn’t seen this one beggar, and all along had never so much as glanced at him; but at times, their expressions carried a faint look of disgust.
As the beggar continued eating heartily, they suddenly heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase, and three people started coming up. Guo Jing turned his head and looked towards the stairs.
The first two people were Fatty and Skinny, the two beggars who’d attended Yang Kang at Lin’an’s Ox Village. The third person was Yang Kang himself. Poking his head up, he got a big shock at the sudden sight of Guo Jing, still alive; after a moment of panic, he abruptly turned back and descended the stairs in terror, speaking about something as he left. Fatty followed him down, but Skinny went over to the table of the three beggars and said a few things to them in a low voice. The three immediately stood up and departed down the stairs. Meanwhile, the beggar sitting on the floor just carried on eating, taking no notice of them at all.
Huang Rong went over to the window and looked down from it, seeing Yang Kang – thronged by a dozen beggars – departing westward. He hadn’t gone far when he turned his head and glanced up.
Happening to make eye contact with Huang Rong, he looked away instantly and quickened his pace.
The beggar, having finished eating his meal, licked the bottom of the bowl clean and clear with his extended tongue, gave his chopsticks a few wipes on his clothing, and put everything into a pocket.
Huang Rong looked at him carefully. His face, covered with wrinkles, expressed anxiety and hardship; his hands were unusually big – almost double those of an ordinary person – and on their backs were raised blue veins, attesting to a lifetime of hard toil.
Guo Jing stood up and folded his hands in respect. “Senior,” he said, “please take a seat and we can have a talk.”
“I’m not used to sitting on stools!” laughed the beggar. “You two are the disciples of Chief Hong; although you’re young, we’re actually in the same generation. But as I’m older by several years, you can address me as ‘big brother’. My name’s ‘Lu’; I’m called ‘Lu Youjiao’.”
Guo Jing and Huang Rong cast a glance at each other, both thinking: “So he already knows our background!”
“Big Brother Lu,” said Huang Rong with a smile, “this name of yours really is interesting!”
Lu Youjiao answered: “It’s often said: ‘A pauper without a stick gets harassed by the dogs.’ I’m indeed without a stick, but what I do have is a pair of stinky feet. If a doggie comes to harass me, I take aim straight at the mongrel’s head, and that son-of-a-b***h gets a foot like so! Then, it’s off running to the wilds with its tail between its legs.”
Huang Rong laughed and clapped her hands. “Super, super!” she said. “If dogs knew the meaning of your name, they’d always be keeping their distance!”
“From what Brother Li Sheng’s been saying,” remarked Lu Youjiao, “I know the deeds the two of you did at Baoying. ‘Having ideals comes not from having advanced years; lacking ideals, one lives to a hundred in vain.’ How true! It really is a cause for admiration. No wonder Chief Hong has favoured you like this!” Guo Jing rose and demurred modestly.
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Lu Youjiao continued: “Just now, I heard you two chatting about Qiu Qianren and the Iron Palm Gang. It seems you’re very much unaware of his circumstances.”
“True,” said Huang Rong. “I ought to ask for your advice.”
“Qiu Qianren is the Chief of the Iron Palm Gang,” said Lu Youjiao. “This Gang holds huge influence in the regions of Hunan, Hubei and Sichuan. The Gang’s hordes commit murder and robbery; there’s no evil they won’t do. At first, they used to collaborate with local officials. Now, they’re getting nastier and nastier – bringing out the cash to bribe ministers, they’re starting to become officials themselves. Even more despicable is their secret liaison with the Jin nation, with whom they’ve struck a deal to work from within in accord with those outsiders.”
“That oldie Qiu Qianren is only good at tricking people,” said Huang Rong. “How’d he be able to handle such serious power?”
“Qiu Qianren is dangerous in the extreme!” insisted Lu Youjiao. “You ought not to look askance at him, miss.”
Huang Rong smiled. “Have you met him?” she asked.
“As it turns out, no,” admitted Lu Youjiao. “I hear he lives in seclusion among obscure mountains, practicing The Divine Art of the Iron Palm; he hasn’t descended for at least a decade.”
“You’ve been tricked!” said Huang Rong, laughing. “I’ve met him a few times. I’ve even fought him. And as for whatever ‘Divine Art of the Iron Palm’…” Remembering how Qiu Qianren had feigned diarrhoea and run away, all she could do was just gaze at Guo Jing and giggle.
Lu Youjiao gave her a stern look. He stated: “Although I’m not aware of what dirty tricks they’ve been playing, the Iron Palm Gang has rather flourished in recent years; you really ought not to belittle them lightly.”
“Well said, Big Brother Lu!” offered Guo Jing hurriedly, worried he was getting angry. “Rong’er just loves to joke around.”
“Since when was I joking around?” said Huang Rong with a laugh. Clutching her abdomen and imitating Qiu Qianren’s voice, she added: “Ouch, ouch! I’ve got a stomach-ache!” Her antics made Guo Jing recall that particular spectacle, and he couldn’t help letting out a laugh too.
Huang Rong saw he was laughing as well, but instantly restrained her mirth and changed the subject by asking: “Big Brother Lu, are you acquainted with those three who were dining here just now?”
Lu Youjiao gave a sigh. “The two of you aren’t outsiders,” he said, “so you may have already heard Chief Hong mention the internal division of our Gang into two groups: the ‘Clean Clothes’ and
‘Dirty Clothes’ factions.”
“Haven’t heard teacher talk of it,” said Guo Jing and Huang Rong together.
“The division within the Gang is fundamentally not a good thing,” said Lu Youjiao. “Chief Hong is extremely unhappy about it. His Eminence has expended an enormous amount of thought and