Chapter Thirty-One: Where Did This Beggar Come From?

“Haha, let me also raise a bowl to congratulate you, elder!”
Xiang Tong stood up, both hands cupping a tea bowl, saluted He Guanzhong, and drained the bowl in one motion.
“Well done! We’re all people of the martial world—straightforward and bold!” He Guanzhong laughed heartily, and even through the thick layers of grime, his delight was unmistakable.

In the gentle breeze and fine rain, the small wooden hut was filled with laughter and lively chatter. The mood was harmonious and peaceful, undampened by the dreary weather outside. Raindrops pattered rhythmically onto the dirt road. Though the rain was not heavy, it was enough to thoroughly drench anyone caught in it.

Not long after, a burly, rough-looking man dashed in from the curtain of rain. At a glance, he looked no different from a drowned rat. No sooner had he entered than he began to shake himself off vigorously, slapping raindrops from his clothes. As he flailed about, a few stray droplets landed on He Guanzhong.

Cursing as he shook off the water, he spat, “Damn this rotten weather! The rain just comes out of nowhere! My new clothes are soaked—got these from the Brocade Pavilion in town, and I haven’t even had a chance to show them off to Miss Chu yet, now they’re all splattered with mud!”

He cast his eyes around the hut. There were only six sets of tables and chairs inside: Luo Changning and his companions at one, the teahouse couple at another, Xiang Tong at a third, and He Guanzhong at a fourth. Of the remaining two tables, one bench was already damp from the rain, while the other stood just to He Guanzhong’s right.

At this, the burly man’s expression darkened.

He spat on the ground.
“Damn it, no wonder my day’s been unlucky! Turns out I ran into this old beggar!”

Rolling up his sleeves, he rubbed his palms together and strode toward He Guanzhong, kicking over the bench beside him. He pointed and barked, “Hey, you old beggar! Who gave you permission to come in here and take shelter from the rain? Look at yourself, all filthy and ragged—just a dirty, useless old man!”

“If you know what’s good for you, get out of here right now! Otherwise, don’t blame me for breaking every brittle bone in your body!”

No matter the land, there are always those who bully the weak, think themselves superior, and look down on others.

Luo Changning snorted coldly, just about to rise and teach this boorish man a lesson for the sake of his new friend, when he caught sight of He Guanzhong’s unconcerned composure. He didn’t even spare the burly man a glance, instead deftly picking out pieces of beef brisket from the clay pot with his chopsticks.

Luo Changning immediately reconsidered.

Brother Guanzhong hardly needs my help. Why get riled up over such a petty little man?

The burly fellow, seeing he was being ignored, grew even more irate. He clicked his tongue and began to curse, “Hey, you old beggar! Deaf, are you? Won’t drink the wine you’re offered, so you’ll have to swallow the penalty instead! Think you can just disregard me? I’ll see to it you regret ever crossing me!”

He hacked, then spat—a foul, yellow, stinking glob landing right in the beef brisket pot.

He Guanzhong’s hand, poised to pick up another morsel, froze in midair.

Silence.

A deathly silence.

The burly man, oblivious to the danger he was courting, reveled in the attention of the hut’s occupants, who had all paused to watch him. He shook his right leg, assumed a cocky stance, and pointed at the beef pot. “See that, old beggar? That’s what happens when you cross me! Scared now? If you want me to show mercy, you’d better eat every last bit of my masterpiece!”

All the commotion roused Ma Xue’e, who had nearly drifted off to sleep. Rubbing her bleary eyes, she looked around in confusion at the suddenly crowded teahouse. When had it started raining? When did this place get so lively?

The next moment, she spotted He Guanzhong—a white-haired elder—being so rudely insulted by the burly man.

Wrinkling her nose and pulling a face, she muttered, “Ugh, what’s that buzzing? Did a fly get in, making such a racket? Did you eat something foul, your breath stinks!”

Pfft—

The others burst out laughing.

Little Xue’e was as sharp as ever—right to the point!

The burly man flushed to the tips of his ears at the open laughter. Just as he was about to burst out, He Guanzhong interrupted him.

“Haha, such sweet words from a pretty little girl—truly refreshing!”

With that, He Guanzhong slapped his chopsticks heavily onto the table. Twisting his body, he swung his left leg over, nimbly straddling the bench in a way that belied his age, facing the burly man head-on.

Though he had to look up at the larger man, not a trace of timidity showed in his bearing.

The man rubbed his arms uneasily. What’s going on? Suddenly it’s cold in here—and that old beggar’s eyes, so chilling and sinister...

A flicker of regret crossed his mind—had he just provoked someone he shouldn’t have? Was this old man actually a hidden master, a killer exuding murderous intent?

But then he shook his head dismissively. No, looking from every angle, he was just a feeble old man. That must have been my imagination.

His bravado returned. He jiggled his leg and waited to see how this old beggar would grovel and beg for mercy.

He Guanzhong shook his head, tugged at his beard, and smiled. “I’m an easygoing man by nature—rarely angered. There’s only one thing that truly riles me up: wasting food.”

Everyone silently took note—never waste food in front of this man; it’s a grave offense!

“You insulted me just now, and I wasn’t even angry. But you—of all things—you dared to ruin my beef brisket pot!”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a black shadow flashed across the room—so fast that no one could see his movements. He Guanzhong was suddenly standing in front of the burly man.

The man, still wearing a cocky grin, hadn’t even realized what was happening before his jaw was firmly clamped in a vice-like grip.

With a twist of He Guanzhong’s hand, the man’s mouth was forced open.

Now fully aware of his predicament, the man glared with triangular eyes, spluttering, “Mmmph, you old beggar, what are you—”

He Guanzhong picked up the beef pot from the table, tilted the man’s head back, and poured the entire contents—phlegm and all—straight into his open mouth.

The man’s eyes went wide in horror. He tried to wrench free, but found he was utterly powerless, unable to budge an inch. He Guanzhong’s grip was inescapable, as if by some spell.

With his lips pinned tight, the man had no choice but to swallow everything, not a morsel left, every last bit forced down into his stomach.

Once He Guanzhong saw that the food was all swallowed, he released his grip, nodding in satisfaction, his face as innocent and kindly as ever.

With great magnanimity, he laughed, “Haha! Not bad, you’re a good lad after all. I’ll forgive your offense of wasting food this time.”

Pfft!

Cough, cough, cough…

The burly man bent double, retching and hacking, desperate to expel everything from his mouth. Only after a long while did he recover, casting a terrified, haunted glance at He Guanzhong.

He dared not make a sound, but turned and bolted into the rain without another word, as if pursued by some monstrous demon.

He’d barely gone ten paces before tripping and plunging face-first into the muddy water. Flailing wildly, he scrambled to his feet, oblivious to the expensive clothes that had cost him a month’s wages, fleeing even faster than before.

With the obnoxious fly finally gone, the teahouse fell blissfully quiet.

Ma Xue’e approached He Guanzhong, beaming. “Grandpa, I’m always good—I never waste food! The way you dealt with that rude brute was just perfect!”

He Guanzhong squinted at the cheerful girl before him, her cheeks puffed, her eyes clear and bright, untainted by the world.

Tugging at his beard, he laughed heartily. “Beautiful girls are always good, and those who never waste food are the very best. You’re a good girl—I’ll remember you. If ever you find yourself in trouble, just blow this bone whistle, and I’ll come to your aid.”

With that, he produced a white bone whistle from his robe and handed it to Ma Xue’e.

She accepted it with delight, not at all put off by its appearance, and grinned. “Thank you, Grandpa! The whistle is lovely!”

Just then, Ma Qingyun, who hadn’t spoken a word since entering the teahouse, stood up and walked over. Bowing with cupped fists, he said, “On behalf of my sister, I thank you for your kindness, sir.”

He Guanzhong regarded Ma Qingyun for a moment, his kindly warmth fading a little, his brows drawing together.

“No need for formality. I gave her the whistle because I like her, not to earn anyone’s gratitude.”

This boy—so young, yet so guarded and serious. Not cute at all…

Not fun in the least!