Chapter 9 - 5: Zhou Paotou

With no internet, TV, or phone, Zhao Lin had developed the habit of sleeping and waking early.

The next morning, he got up before dawn, washed up quickly, and grabbed two bran cakes from the kitchen before heading out.

By the time he reached the docks, the sky was just beginning to lighten. The laborers were standing by the shore, waiting for work.

Zhao Lin scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Ma Jiu. He asked around and learned that Ma Jiu was taking the day off.

Hauling sacks at the docks was incredibly draining. Working every day was unsustainable; most men worked for three or four days and then took one off.

Zhao Lin found the supervisor and explained the situation. The supervisor immediately shouted to the crowd, "Zhou Pao, you take him today!"

"Sure thing. I was just thinking how boring it is to work alone."

A lazy voice rang out, and a man in his thirties walked out from the crowd. He was ruddy-faced and of medium height, with a very large, broad frame.

The man might have been handsome once, but something had clawed his left cheek, leaving a massive scar. With one eye half-closed, his face looked ferocious.

Zhao Lin glanced at him once before looking away and proactively greeted him, "Hello, Brother Pao."

"Younger Brother Zhao."

Zhou Pao enthusiastically slapped Zhao Lin’s arm. "I saw you yesterday. You’re a strong young lad!"

"I’ll be counting on you, Brother Pao."

They exchanged a few words and learned that they were both villagers from Baitou Mountain. The only difference was that Zhou Pao was from Baiqiao Village and Zhao Lin was from Three Families Village, and the two villages were quite far apart.

Zhou Pao was a hunter from the mountains. With nothing to do during the winter off-season, he had come to the docks for temporary work. He planned to return to his old trade once spring arrived.

"Pao-tou" meant "lead hunter." It signified a master skilled in tracking beasts, setting snares and traps, and using bait and nets. He was an expert capable of leading group hunts.

Zhou Pao was very talkative. He spoke endlessly about local customs and his past hunting experiences.

Zhao Lin, wanting to learn more about the world, actively engaged him in conversation.

By the end of the morning, the two had become quite friendly.

"Brother Zhao, why are you just choking down dry steamed buns? Is that enough to fill you up?"

Noon arrived, and the two sat on the riverbank eating during their break.

Zhao Lin had already eaten the two cakes he’d brought on his way to the docks. He had used his last copper coin to buy four steamed buns.

Eating the buns dry wasn’t very tasty, but thankfully they were large and dense—too big to hold in one hand. They were barely enough to fill his stomach.

’Unlike the steamed buns from my past life, which were so shrunken you could squeeze one into the size of a ping-pong ball.’

Zhou Pao had brought two large flatbreads rolled with meat and vegetables. "In our line of work," he said while eating, "you need some grease in your belly. Otherwise, your body won’t be able to take it."

"You’ve got plenty of strength and earn as much as anyone. Don’t tell me you’re too stingy to spend a little money on food?"

’Of course I know that,’ Zhao Lin thought. ’It’s just that I haven’t earned any money yet.’

"I left in a hurry today and forgot the food my mother prepared. I only had one copper on me. It’s fine, I’ll make up for it tonight."

Zhou Pao pulled a piece of cured meat from his tunic, cut off a slice with a small knife, and handed it to Zhao Lin.

"I don’t know what your family situation is, but you can’t afford to skimp on food. If you wear your body down, it’ll be hard to build it back up!"

Zhao Lin took it and said gratefully, "Thank you, Brother Pao."

He took a bite. His mouth filled with a salty, fragrant flavor, with a hint of pine smoke.

He chewed slowly, savoring the indescribably delicious taste.

"Move it, move it! Fucking watch where you’re going!"

As the two were eating, a group of men came barreling down the main road. They were all dressed in black, carrying clubs, with two crossed axes embroidered on their chests.

Their leader was a middle-aged man in satin boots and a brocade robe, a smirk of arrogance playing on his lips.

The merchants and laborers scrambled to get out of the way.

"Master Hua, it’s been over a month! You’re looking better than ever."

The foreman rushed forward, bowing and scraping.

Zhao Lin asked curiously, "Who are these guys? Why is the foreman being so polite?"

Zhou Pao curled his lip. "The Tiger Head Gang."

"The Tiger Head Gang?"

Zhao Lin looked closely, puzzled. "Why are there axes embroidered on their chests? Shouldn’t it be a tiger’s head to match the name?"

Zhou Pao sneered. "Their Gang Leader is an outsider with a strange accent. He can’t distinguish his ’hu’s from his ’fu’s. He named his gang the ’Fu Tou Bang’ (Axe Gang), but everyone heard it as ’Hu Tou Bang’ (Tiger Head Gang), and the name just stuck."

The foreman gave his chair to the man in brocade, served him tea and water, and then took out several silver notes from his tunic to present to him.

Zhao Lin understood now—they were paying protection money. He couldn’t help but ask, "Brother Pao, does the Tiger Head Gang have a lot of members? Are they very powerful?"

"They’re okay, I guess. A hundred or two hundred men."

"That’s not more than us laborers. Why is the foreman acting like a lackey?"

Zhou Pao smiled faintly. "My brother, you don’t understand. Strength isn’t about how many people you have. It’s about whose fists are bigger and harder!"

"The Tiger Head Gang’s Gang Leader is a master at the Third Layer of the Power Realm. The foreman’s only practiced a few days of kung fu. Ten of him tied together wouldn’t be enough to take a single punch from that guy."

’Third Layer of the Power Realm?’

Zhao Lin mentally filed that away and continued, "So the Tiger Head Gang must be considered pretty formidable here in Qinghe County, right?"

Zhou Pao shook his head. "Not really. A Power Realm Martial Artist can only throw their weight around in front of us common folk. Compared to the Qi Realm masters in the county yamen and the martial sects, they’re just small fry."

’Power Realm, Qi Realm...’

Zhao Lin was lost in thought. ’So this really is a world of martial arts, and Martial Artists have high status.’

’I just don’t know how powerful the truly strong Martial Artists are.’

’Can they shatter stone tablets and tear tigers apart with their bare hands, or can they fly through the heavens, burrow through the earth, cleave mountains, and stop rivers?’

Once the men from the Tiger Head Gang left, the foreman’s back straightened, and the confident expression returned to his face.

In the afternoon, the docks became busy again. Zhao Lin helped Zhou Pao out from time to time as a small way of repaying his kindness.

While making a delivery, Zhao Lin spotted a bookstore on the street. He told Zhou Pao he’d be a moment and went inside.

Reading was the fastest way to understand the world, especially history books.

The shopkeeper saw two laborers in white vests enter and, after a moment of surprise, hurried out from behind the counter.

He didn’t say a word, just followed them closely, apparently afraid they would steal books or cause trouble.

Zhao Lin paid him no mind, picked out a book, and asked, "How much for this copy of *Northern and Southern Histories*?"

"Eighty wen."

"What about this *Great Yue Founding Chronicles*?"

"One hundred and forty wen."

Zhao Lin was secretly astounded. ’They say scholars are poor and warriors are rich,’ he thought, ’but what kind of "poor person" could afford a book this expensive?’

’Or maybe different social classes just have a different understanding of what "poor" means?’

One hundred and forty wen was enough to buy nearly half a pig!

...

When the day was over and wages were settled, Zhao Lin received twenty-five wen—the highest amount among all the laborers.

The other laborers were green with envy, but no one was truly resentful. After all, this was a line of work where you sold your sweat and toil; those who worked harder earned more.

Zhao Lin was strong, but earning this money hadn’t been easy.

Several large, bloody blisters had formed on his shoulders. When sweat seeped into them, the stinging sensation was indescribably sharp.

Clutching this "huge sum," Zhao Lin finally felt a sense of security.

He hurried to the market before it closed and bought two catties of cheap end-of-day vegetables, as well as some rice, flour, and cooking oil.

He also bought a piece of pork rump.

Pork rump is the cut from above the pig’s hind leg. It’s a good mix of fat and lean, perfect for satisfying a craving.

He went home and cooked the meat, and the family had a wonderful meal together.

During the meal, Zhao Lin noticed his mother secretly wiping away tears as she ate. Thinking they were tears of joy, he comforted her, "Mom, I can earn money now. We’ll have many more days like this in the future!"

Mrs. Zhao sighed. "I’m thinking about your older brother. He’s doing hard labor out there. I heard it’s filthy and exhausting, and the food is terrible. I can’t imagine how much he’s suffering."

Zhao Lin fell silent. He thought back on the past; his brother, ten years his senior, had always been very good to him.

Especially in the first few days after he had transmigrated, when he was struggling on the verge of death, it was his brother who had tirelessly carried him to see a Physician, bought medicine, and brewed it for him, ultimately saving his life.

If his own serious illness hadn’t drained the family’s savings, his brother wouldn’t have been taken away for failing to pay the autumn grain tax.

They were truly the closest of family, brothers bound by blood.

"Dad, when is my brother’s labor sentence supposed to end?" Zhao Lin asked.

"Ai, we’ve never gotten a clear answer."

Zhao’s father looked worried. "In past years, it was two months at most. But I heard a new County Magistrate has arrived, so who knows what the new rules are."

Zhao Lin thought for a moment and said, "I can make twenty or thirty wen a day now. If I save up for half a month, can we pay off the tax we owe?"

His father replied, "I’ve asked Qian Sanming from town to help me ask around and see if we can find a way to get him released early. He said he’ll get back to me in a few days."

Qian Sanming was a distant relative of the County Registrar. The mountain folk didn’t know how to deal with government officials, so they always asked him to help pull strings for them.

Zhao Lin took out ten wen and placed it on the table. "Dad, Mom, take this for now. Let’s do everything we can to bring my brother back home soon!"