Chapter Fifty-Two: The Beggar Chief

While heated discussions about the Chopstick Hero raged online, in a shadowy corner of LC District, N County, groups of beggars gathered.

Here stood a gloomy ancestral shrine, battered by countless storms, bearing little resemblance to its original state. Upon the altar rested a clay idol, and beneath it was inscribed the name Fan Dan.

According to the legends of the Beggars’ Sect, several figures are venerated as founding ancestors: Fan Dan, Zhu Yuanzhang, Wu Song, Qin Qiong, and Wu Zixu among them. Of these, Fan Dan is regarded as the most “divine,” for it was said he once saved the life of Confucius. The story goes that Confucius was on the brink of starvation in the state of Chen, and only survived thanks to Fan Dan’s charity. Thus, beggars have worshipped Fan Dan as their ancestral master ever since, going from door to door to beg from merchants with Spring Festival couplets pasted on their doors, symbolically repaying Confucius’ disciples in kind.

Fan Dan, a famous pauper of the Eastern Han, being associated with Confucius of the Spring and Autumn era, is certainly a concoction born of misinterpretation and legend.

Before the idol, bamboo tubes, awls, knives, and a basin of cold water lay arranged. Each beggar paid their respects to the shrine, then proceeded to a nearby box, tossing in cash—some only a few dozen yuan, others several hundred.

It was an ancient rule of the Beggars' Sect: each locale would have its own chief beggar, and all local beggars were subject to their authority. This shrine was the headquarters of the chief beggar of N County.

Few in N County knew that the chief beggar's surname was Lu, known as Lu the Beggar. On the fifteenth of each month, those under his command would dutifully come to pay their dues, funding the expenses of the white-haired beggar. Any who dared to break this rule would be beaten and expelled from the territory.

By midday, all those who had come to pay had departed. From behind the idol emerged an old man, his hair snow-white, face deeply wrinkled, barely standing at one meter sixty, stooped and hunched. His patched clothing bore three pouches on the front, denoting his rank as a Three-Pouch Elder in the Beggars' Sect. In his hand he held a tarnished copper pipe, from which he drew a heavy puff. He paid no heed to the money in the box; for someone of his status, acquiring money was a trivial matter.

He was waiting for someone.

Footsteps echoed.

But Lu the Beggar frowned. The steps were wrong—if they belonged to one of his disciples, they would be steady and powerful, every stride brimming with vigor, like a dragon or tiger. These, however, were feeble, unsteady, and overweight.

The visitor finally arrived before the shrine.

He was a rotund man, his face plush with fat, smiling like the Buddha himself. Anyone familiar with N County would recognize him as one of the four local bosses, Dong Xiong, also known as Xiong Xing. Behind him trailed several henchmen in black suits.

“Greetings, Elder Lu,” Xiong Xing said, smiling obsequiously.

“You know me?” Lu the Beggar’s brow creased.

“I saw your remarkable presence years ago, when I followed another boss,” Xiong Xing replied, seeing Lu frown again. “My old boss was called Iron Knife.”

“I recall him,” Lu nodded. “But why have you sought me out? Do you want something from me?”

“No requests, Elder, but I heard some news last night,” Xiong Xing said, smiling. “Word is, you have a disciple named Li Jingguo, a man of great promise. But yesterday, I heard that a notorious local criminal, known as the Chopstick Devil, killed your disciple. Supposedly because Li Jingguo was trafficking children.”

“What!” Lu the Beggar shot to his feet, and the air around them seemed to tremble, a heavy pressure bearing down on Xiong Xing.

Even a local boss like Xiong Xing felt uneasy.

“The Chopstick Devil killed my disciple Li Jingguo,” Lu growled.

“Yes,” Xiong Xing nodded.

“You wouldn’t dare deceive me,” Lu sighed deeply, his brow knotted tighter. “I am ninety-eight years old now, have seen too much in my life—warlord chaos, foreign invasions, civil wars, the founding of the republic. My death isn’t far off. My disciples have either died or scattered, and only two remain. I only hope they can inherit my legacy. But Chopstick Devil, Chopstick Devil, why did you kill my disciple?”

“Trafficking children has always been a tradition of our Beggars’ Sect. Trafficking children—is that even a crime?”

“Chopstick Hero, I swear eternal enmity!” Lu the Beggar slammed his palm onto the nearby table.

The table, made of sturdy huanghuali wood, cracked, splintering under his blow.

Lu the Beggar’s skill was almost unfathomable. “Where is the Chopstick Devil? I’ll kill him at once.”

“Elder, no one knows where he is. Otherwise, we would have struck already,” Xiong Xing replied.

“Then we must find him first, and then kill him,” Lu squinted, lost in thought.

“So, we can set up a trap—a trap the Chopstick Devil cannot resist,” Xiong Xing’s eyes glinted with the cunning of a sly old fox.

“Oh? You have a plan, then. Let’s hear it. I’m old, and my mind isn’t as sharp as it once was,” Lu sighed.

Xiong Xing dared not treat this ninety-eight-year-old man as merely an elder; he was the most notorious villain in N County. Carefully, he laid out his scheme.

“This plan will work,” Lu nodded after hearing it.

...

The next morning, Shen Ye had already awakened.

But his eyes still felt uncomfortable, as if something remained inside.

Could it be that the vegetable oil he used yesterday hadn’t fully washed away the lime?

At that moment, the seaside cottage’s door opened.

Today, Wen Xiuting wore a white blouse and blue shorts, her pale legs exposed. Though not particularly long—Wen Xiuting stood only at one meter fifty-eight—they looked striking nonetheless.

She glanced around the cottage, finding it empty, before turning to Shen Ye. “The internet is in an uproar; everyone says you’ve done something big again. Did you really kill a group of child traffickers? Well done! They deserve to die. Just a few days ago, one tried to abduct Xiao Nan. Luckily, I smashed his head with a high heel and saved her.”

“There was such a thing?” Shen Ye was taken aback.

“Everyone online is praising you; almost all netizens think you did right. Only a few so-called law students and idiots say otherwise,” Wen Xiuting looked at him. “Hey, your eyes look a bit white.”

“Yesterday, I fought those traffickers. Their leader was skilled and ruthless—he threw lime powder into my eyes. I washed them once with vegetable oil, but some residue remains,” Shen Ye smiled wryly. “My eyes still feel gritty.”

“If you wash your own eyes, you can’t be too precise. Let me clean them for you,” Wen Xiuting offered.

“That would be great,” Shen Ye nodded.

Wen Xiuting then used vegetable oil to clean Shen Ye’s eyes. But the distance was close, and during the process, Shen Ye couldn’t help but notice Wen Xiuting’s ample chest occasionally brushing his head, sending his blood rushing downward.

Wen Xiuting herself realized how intimate the pose was, and her cheeks flushed crimson. Still, she knew she’d promised to help, so she pretended not to notice and continued.

Afterwards, Wen Xiuting was mortified, her heart filled with shame. Though she was divorced now, free and independent, this man was her former brother-in-law—how could she ever consider him?

Shen Ye was equally embarrassed.

(When the protagonist called the police, he always disguised his voice. I remember the novel mentioned this, yet some reviewers still brought it up.)