Liu Tang’s room took up half the courtyard, its carved wooden windows covered with crisp white paper.

Seeing Xiangzi enter, the head guard set down a booklet, smiling as he took the letter, even asking after Lin Junqing’s recent state.

It was clear Liu Tang held deep respect for Lin Junqing.

Hearing “Rare for my junior brother to still think of me,” the burly man let out a soft sigh, his eyes glinting with a trace of moisture.

Tucking the letter into a drawer, Liu Tang paused, then said, “Xiangzi, haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Xiangzi blinked, caught off guard.

Before he could respond, Liu Tang called for someone to bring a large porcelain bowl, then personally fetched a heaping portion of white rice, topped with a thick layer of quivering braised pork.

The rice grains gleamed, soaked in rich, amber-hued gravy.

The aroma made Xiangzi’s eyes sting.

In Forty-Nine City these days, common folk were lucky to get sorghum rice or cornmeal. White rice was a rare luxury.

The best meal Xiangzi had eaten in the past month was yesterday’s yellow cornbread stuffed with beef tripe.

White rice—a distant memory.

Seeing Liu Tang treat a third-class puller so warmly, the other guards quickly buried their scorn, plastering on smiles and making room for Xiangzi to sit.

Xiangzi knew his place, offering a polite smile and thanks before stepping out with the bowl.

Just outside the courtyard, someone called out.

“Well, well, Xiangzi! Sneaking off to eat alone, eh?”

The man, holding a large enamel mug, gaped at the braised pork in Xiangzi’s bowl, his eyes nearly popping. His chopsticks darted in, snatching a trembling piece of fatty meat.

Xiangzi didn’t mind, tossing two more fatty pieces into the man’s mug.

“Whoa, Xiangzi, you’re living large—white rice now? Don’t forget your old pal Wen San when you’re on top!”

The man, Wen San, was close with Xiangzi’s former self, almost a hometown brother.

Wen San was a loose cannon, full of tall tales. With a couple of swigs of liquor, he’d claim kinship with Great Shun dynasty nobles.

But he’d been decent to Xiangzi, offering help in the second-class pullers’ dormitory.

In the whole second-class yard, only Wen San and another puller, Old Ma, showed Xiangzi any kindness.

Wen San squatted by the wall, wolfing down his food, grease dripping down his chin. “Not bad, kid—when did you climb onto Master Tang’s big tree?”

“No big connection, just ran an errand for him,” Xiangzi replied.

“Fooling ghosts! No connection, and you’re eating like this? Wen San’s got eyes like a hawk—you can’t hide from me!”

Wen San wiped his mouth, eyeing the guards’ courtyard with a smack of his lips. “We train hard, don’t we? So why can’t we break through the vitality barrier?”

“Ugh, if I could join that yard, sleep on a private kang, and eat braised pork every day, this life wouldn’t be a waste.”

Xiangzi’s heart stirred. He asked Wen San what this “vitality barrier” was.

But Wen San, the loudmouth, couldn’t explain, only griping that the martial arts taught in the second-class yard were too crude, stunting his “natural genius” from breaking through.

As he rambled, someone approached, barking, “Wen San! Keep yapping, and watch your hide! If Master Hu hears that, he’ll strip your tendons!”

Wen San, mid-tirade, froze as Jin Fugui loomed like an iron tower, shrinking back and falling silent.

In terms of seniority, the two were close.

But Jin Fugui, with his bear-like build, could crack bricks with a fist, famed for his brute strength.

Rumor in the second-class yard was that Jin Fugui had broken through the vitality barrier.

In a place where might made right, Jin Fugui was the unchallenged boss of the second-class pullers.

Everyone already treated him as the future chief.

Jin Fugui shot Wen San a glare, then glanced at Xiangzi, his thick brows knitting before he turned and left without a word.

Once he was gone, Wen San spat. “Not even chief yet, and he’s acting high and mighty!”

“Wait till I break the vitality barrier and join the guards—I’ll show that punk who’s boss!”

Wen San muttered, fuming.

Xiangzi didn’t bother responding, focusing on scraping his bowl clean of braised pork.

Even the last few grains of white rice, coated in greasy sauce, went into his mouth.

A full meal after a month.

Xiangzi exhaled deeply, his gaze drifting from the guards’ courtyard. He asked casually, “Brother Wen San, you saying the guards learn the real stuff?”

Wen San perked up, squatting with his enamel mug. “Damn right! The moves they teach us second-class pullers? At best, they let you eat an extra bowl and pull a few more trips!”

“The real skills are in the guards’ hands!”

“You see it, don’t you? All these years, has a single second-class puller made it to the guard team? Those guards are big shots hired from outside for a steep price!”

Xiangzi’s brows furrowed.

Wen San’s mouth ran wild, but this made sense.

Wen San leaned closer, voice low. “Xiangzi, listen to your brother Wen! Of Fourth Master’s four foster sons, Master Tang’s the only one from a proper martial hall—his skills are the real deal!”

“If you can latch onto Master Tang, hold on tight! But…” He glanced around, voice dropping further. “Don’t let Master Hu know. He’s got it out for Master Tang. You’re still in the second-class yard—you’ll need his favor.”

Xiangzi nodded, his gaze drifting beyond the courtyard.

Wen San’s “Master Hu” was Liu Hu, another of Fourth Master Liu’s foster sons, in charge of the second-class pullers’ yard. Rumor had it he was a skilled martial artist too.

Wen San kept babbling, but Xiangzi stood abruptly.

Wen San shouted after him, “Hey! Xiangzi, where you off to? Our dorm’s this way!”

Xiangzi waved without looking back, his mind churning.

Even a fool like Wen San had dreams of learning martial arts.

By comparison, Xiangzi, with his Profession Panel

, was still tiptoeing, cautious and restrained.

In this chaotic world, playing it safe would leave nothing but bones.

As the old saying went, fortune favors the bold.

Time to take a risk!

As the sun neared setting, Harmony Rickshaw Yard grew quiet.

All the rickshaws were rented out, and even half-shift pullers wouldn’t return until late.

The Li family mine deliveries had been sent to the embassy district before dark.

Fourth Master Liu, draped in a black sable coat, reclined in his courtyard armchair—a rare hands-on boss among South City’s alley kingpins.

The kerosene lamp at the gate flickered to life with a puff. As Fourth Master Liu rose, he spotted Xiangzi entering.

His lips curved into a smile. “Xiangzi, you’re here?”

“Blessings to you, Fourth Master!”

“Eaten yet?”

“I have.”

“Why not come earlier? There’s hot food left on the stove.”

“No matter. I’ll feel settled once I’ve sorted the books for you.”

Fourth Master Liu’s smile deepened.

He admired Xiangzi’s honest sense of propriety, unlike the rough brutes under him who only knew how to swing fists.

Inside the main room, Xiangzi saw a broad-shouldered figure hunched over the books—Girl Hu, Fourth Master Liu’s only daughter.

Her temper was fiercer than most men’s, her large feet twice the size of Xiangzi’s, but she managed affairs with razor-sharp precision.

Fourth Master Liu often said if Girl Hu had been born a boy, Harmony would’ve already dominated South City.

“Xiangzi’s here,” Girl Hu said.

“Greetings, Miss Hu,” Xiangzi replied.