Chapter 14: The Code of the Martial World

Uncle Yong’s skill in dressing wounds was evident; after a series of careful movements, another layer of bandage was wrapped around my head.

“Do you have a grudge against Dahua and his gang?” Uncle Yong asked.

“Who’s Dahua? The ones who beat me up earlier?” I replied.

He nodded.

I shook my head. “I don’t know them, never met them before. That guy just told me to call him ‘Master,’ and I have no idea why.”

Uncle Yong chuckled. “Why else? They’re just used to bullying people. So, you like Xiaowen?”

Like Xiaowen?

Such a beautiful girl—of course I liked her. But I also knew I wasn’t worthy.

“Not every toad dreams of eating swan meat,” I said with a bitter smile.

“A toad that doesn’t want to eat swan meat isn’t a good toad,” Uncle Yong laughed.

“I get it. Dahua and his gang are Xiaowen’s suitors, waiting here to see her after work. I just happened to pass by and got beaten up. It must be because I’m too handsome and they’re jealous! Uncle Yong, is this an undeserved disaster?” I asked.

“Wait a bit—let Xiaowen cook you a meal. After all, it’s her fault,” Uncle Yong said.

Thinking of Xiaowen’s cool, elegant face, I quickly waved my hand. “Forget it. I’m not worthy.”

He looked at me, his eyes unreadable, and after a long pause said, “You’re well-mannered and don’t seem like the type to get your hands dirty. Were you always this ruthless when you fought before? Why did you hit so hard this time?”

“Because I don’t want to be bullied. If he’d asked me to call him ‘big brother’ or just kicked me a couple of times, maybe I wouldn’t have reacted like this. But ‘Master’—I definitely couldn’t agree to that. When I refused, he wouldn’t let me go, so I had no choice,” I explained.

“Young blood is beautiful. This old bone of mine can’t even fight anymore,” Uncle Yong chuckled.

Just then, Xiaowen came in carrying groceries.

I hadn’t seen her often because the factory and hotel shifts didn’t overlap.

There was a time difference between us.

Yet every time I saw her, my heart would flutter.

She noticed me and, perhaps because of my disheveled state, hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure.

“Xiaowen, that scoundrel Dahua was blocking your door again just now,” Uncle Yong said with a smile.

“Oh,” Xiaowen nodded.

“They didn’t even wait for you. When Acheng was going home, they tried to bully him. You won’t believe what happened—he stabbed one of Dahua’s men. A bunch of them ganged up on him, but he bit Dahua’s face, nearly smashing his head. In the end, Dahua didn’t dare to look at him,” Uncle Yong continued.

Xiaowen frowned, clearly uninterested in such underworld affairs, and went to wash the vegetables by the sink.

Seeing her so indifferent, I also felt a bit bored.

I stood up, ready to leave.

“Where are you going? The fried noodles got ruined. Stay here and eat. I don’t mind adding an extra pair of chopsticks,” Uncle Yong said.

My spirits lifted again.

It seemed my guess was right—being able to eat here, even a simple home-cooked meal, was a monumental leap for me. It was what I had been longing for day and night—today was the day!

The meal tasted bland.

But my heart was full.

After we finished, Uncle Yong put down his chopsticks and asked suddenly, “Acheng, I heard from Xiaowen that you saw through the mark Old Rong left at the door?”

I nodded quickly. “Yes. A thief has been targeting her, but it’s strange that he hasn’t acted for so long.”

After saying this, I sensed the atmosphere shift.

Looking up, I saw Uncle Yong staring at me seriously.

He then made a hand gesture—a familiar Mountain sign from the Qianmen Sect.

Wait, isn’t Uncle Yong the Double-Flower Red Stick from the Hong Sect?

Why was he now showing a Qianmen Mountain sign?

Could it be that Uncle Yong was also part of Qianmen?

Senior Liu Qingshan once said that underworlders have three treasures: the Spring Code, the Tea Formation, and hand gestures. These are methods of identifying oneself and communicating, unique to each sect, not to be displayed casually.

My mind raced, wondering what this sudden Mountain sign from Uncle Yong meant.

But regardless of my thoughts, since he initiated, I had to respond.

He showed the Qianmen Mountain sign.

How should I identify myself?

Strictly speaking, I didn’t belong to any sect within the Five Elements and Eight Trades. What I knew came solely from Senior Liu Qingshan’s book. Though there was no formal apprenticeship, I was half a disciple in spirit.

But what sect was Liu Qingshan?

He never said. On the train, he used the Shendiao Sect’s pressing hand but identified with the Jiangxiang Sect’s Spring Code, leaving Old Rong on the train utterly puzzled.

I recalled that Old Rong had great respect for the Shendiao Sect. Perhaps Shendiao was more prestigious in the underworld.

After a minute’s hesitation, I presented the Shendiao Sect’s pressing hand.

Unexpectedly, Uncle Yong’s pupils dilated instantly!

He stared at me in disbelief.

“I thought you only saw through the Jiangxiang Sect’s Zha Fei technique because someone in your family inherited it. But you also deciphered Rong Sect’s mark. I was wondering which sect you belonged to. You’ve truly surprised me. The underworld is all about skills; Shendiao produces immortals. You’re a Shendiao disciple who hasn’t appeared for sixty years!”

Before I could answer, he turned to Xiaowen and ordered, “Girl, clear the dishes and bring out my tea tray. A Shendiao disciple—haven’t seen one in sixty years. Young man, tea?”

Following the proper ritual, one raises the hand, asks the code, and offers tea.

First, acknowledge the hand gesture, then the Spring Code, and finally the Tea Formation.

Uncle Yong was bypassing the code and going straight to tea offering.

I extended my right hand, holding my wrist with my left, and said, “Tea, please.”

In the underworld, hand gestures, Spring Code, and Tea Formation are methods of communication.

Tea is a homophone for ‘investigation.’

Using the Tea Formation to converse is even more obscure than the Spring Code.

I made the gesture of left hand supporting right hand—an invitation to investigate, asking the other party to present a challenge.

However, right hand supporting left hand, by certain rules, means refusal to investigate.

Regardless, whether accepting or refusing, one must say “please tea” verbally.

When underworlders meet, one can accept or decline the other’s challenge. Everyone has secrets they don’t want to reveal or expose their identity, let alone be vulnerable.

So if you want to probe and I don’t want to talk, I can refuse within the rules. But saying “please tea” gives the host some face.

At that moment, I fought hard to keep my calm.

I knew the opportunity I had long awaited had finally arrived!

I wasn’t afraid of Uncle Yong digging into my background—I feared only his disdain.

Was I flattering a wealthy man?

Yes.

Was it shameful?

I didn’t think so.

One’s fate depends on many factors: luck, environment, accumulated virtue, education, career and spouse choices, connections, and health.

The help of a benefactor was a tremendous opportunity for a poor, nothing-to-lose country boy like me.