Chapter Thirteen: The Secret Code of the Martial World

A beggar?

Jiang Xiaodao’s eyes widened in astonishment, utterly dumbfounded. After all the scheming and risking his limbs, Jiang Chenghai was actually sending him off to become a beggar?

“Seventh Uncle, you must be joking!”

Gong Baonan glanced at him sharply. “What? You still look down on beggars?”

“It’s not about looking down on them, but what’s there to learn? Just kneel on the ground and plead softly, maybe sing a couple of folk rhymes at best. How could that be anything special?”

Gong Baonan wiped his nose. “Don’t be so ignorant. Every trade is tough!”

“That’s true,” Jiang Xiaodao said smugly. “In this freezing cold, begging along the streets, sometimes having a meal, sometimes not, who knows when you’ll end up dead on the roadside.”

“That’s what you think! Old Cui has a house and land, he’s already made it.”

“Ridiculous! If he’s got a house and land, why would he beg?” Jiang Xiaodao didn’t believe it.

“I told you, it’s a business!” Gong Baonan sneered. “What does running the world mean? Carrying no money, traveling all over mountains and rivers, relying solely on your words to cover food and lodging for seven or eight years, then coming back home rich enough to buy land and marry a wife—this is the secret of the world! Can you do that?”

Jiang Xiaodao shook his head. “I couldn’t. I’d probably starve before reaching the Pass. So how does Old Cui manage?”

Gong Baonan was too lazy to explain further. “Go ask him yourself.”

Every trade has its tricks.

The world of begging, though a fringe trade, carries its own subtle wisdom.

The best among them can even become wealthy through this path.

A beggar has neither skills nor craft, wandering from place to place; mere rhymes are not enough.

Singing folk rhymes is just the beginning; the real art lies in understanding human nature and the ways of the world.

Within begging, there are two categories: “kind begging” and “malicious extortion.”

“Kind begging” appeals to people’s goodwill, either by feigning poverty on the spot or begging along the streets.

Feigning poverty here refers to acts like crying poverty, wiping tears, pretending to sell oneself to bury a parent, seeking a coffin for the mother, playing blind, mute, or feigning mental disability—essentially inventing a tragic story to stir compassion.

Near the borderlands, one often sees beggars dragging their families along, putting on these acts. When questioned, most claim they are heading east to Heilongjiang to seek relatives but ran out of money halfway. After receiving donations, they move on to another village, repeating the same routine.

Some farmers, after the spring sowing and autumn harvest, leave one person to guard the home during the off-season while the rest go to nearby towns to beg. They return to farming the next spring. Sometimes, an entire village does this.

Street beggars are the most worldly-wise, knowing how to press for money with finesse—first making the person feel embarrassed if they refuse.

For wealthier households, beggars might knock on the door and not always receive money. But during celebrations like birthdays, saying a few auspicious words can earn them a fair sum.

At weddings or funerals on the streets, these beggars kneel in the way—praising the bride and groom at weddings, mourning for the bereaved at funerals. Neighbors gather, and the hosts, feeling embarrassed, have no choice but to give money to send them away.

Rich young masters, usually arrogant and indulgent, are targeted when gathered in groups. Their pride and competitive spirit often mean a single encounter can provide sustenance for days.

Though these donations may stem from social status or face-saving, kindness is judged by actions, not intentions. Beggars behave properly, so all this falls under “kind begging.”

“Kind begging” must not be picky; whatever the donor gives, as long as it’s not meant to offend, beggars must sincerely express thanks.

This rule must never be broken!

Only kindness can bring kindness in return. If beggars are choosy and cold-hearted, people will eventually stop giving, cutting off aid for those truly in need.

Compared to this, “malicious extortion” only breeds hatred.

These people rely on blackmail for a living and get beaten when they meet resistance, needless to say.

Begging practitioners, especially those in “kind begging,” before they prosper, must wander the world, moving from place to place, having no fixed abode. Although lowly, those of age are always seasoned veterans.

Jiang Chenghai had Jiang Xiaodao start with this trade for two reasons: first, because he was too young and needed to be tempered by experience; second, because he was stubborn and fragile, needing the backing of the begging trade to become resilient.

Jiang Xiaodao, of course, did not understand this meticulous care.

Gong Baonan led him wandering most of the day until they finally returned to the southern city limits.

The uncle and nephew wandered through alleys and streets for a while before finding Old Cui in the southern city gate tunnel.

Old Cui was in his forties, disheveled and filthy, wearing a tattered cotton-padded jacket stuffed with dry grass, curled up and dozing.

Gong Baonan kicked him without ceremony. “Wake up, stop sleeping!”

“Sir, it’s so snowy, please have mercy and let me stay here a moment.”

Old Cui groggily opened his eyes. Upon seeing Gong Baonan, he immediately broke into a wide smile, ignoring the age difference between them, and called out, “Seventh Brother! Haven’t seen you in ages. I thought you’d stayed in Fengtian and didn’t come!”

“Cut the act. I need a favor.”

Old Cui immediately perked up. “Seventh Brother, you’re too kind! If you ask me for help, that’s helping me make a name; others would beg for such a chance! Help or no help, it’s no question!”

Gong Baonan nudged Jiang Xiaodao forward. “This kid is my eldest brother’s newly recognized son—still green. Do me a favor and take care of him for a few days.”

“Ha! Brother Hai storming the world finally has an heir. Let me have a look—truly a dragon among men! No kidding, he really does look like you! I must visit someday to congratulate you and share a drink.”

“Enough!” Gong Baonan pulled out a silver coin and tossed it on the ground. “Old Cui, keep your mouth shut. During this time, he’s just your apprentice. He has nothing to do with us. Got it?”

Old Cui bent down to pick up the coin, his face full of wrinkles smiling. “Don’t worry! I, Old Cui, a beggar, have earned Brother Hai’s favor entirely by keeping my mouth tight!”

Gong Baonan’s expression remained grim. “I’ll come to fetch him in a few days. He must return just as he came—no limbs missing, or I’ll deal with you first!”

“Seventh Brother, what are you saying! I wouldn’t dare touch your people!”

Gong Baonan waved his hand. “Not that I fear you, but this kid can’t show his true strength now. Mrs. Feng, a lowlife who runs the street, is around these days, and you’re in the same circle. You must watch him closely!”

“Don’t worry! Don’t worry!”

Jiang Xiaodao asked in confusion, “Who is Mrs. Feng?”