Time flew by, and before Wan Qingping knew it, half a year had passed.
One afternoon, Zhou Minghu finished his shift at the docks, and Wan Qingping dragged him into a small tavern by the street for a drink.
"Brother, I'm sorry," Wan Qingping slurred, already a little tipsy. "I promised I'd make sure you lived like a king, eating well and drinking fancy wines. But here we are, still scraping by. Damn it, I'm such a failure."
Zhou Minghu, not much of a drinker himself, remained sober and clear-headed. He patted his friend on the back, trying to calm him down. "Don't say that, big brother. I'm working, I've got my hands full at the docks, carrying heavy loads. I'm eating better now than I ever did back in the village."
Wan Qingping wasn't having any of it. "We're brothers, right? Carrying bags at the docks? Damn it, that's a waste of this body, this talent! You should be eating meat, drinking fine wine, sleeping with beautiful women!" He belched loudly, then slammed his chopsticks down onto the table, eyes blazing. His voice got louder, more frustrated as he let loose his complaints, and his speech was thick from the alcohol.
Zhou Minghu couldn't help but laugh at his friend's antics but still tried to reason with him. "Big brother, you've helped me so much. I'll be fine as long as I'm working. Besides, we've got food, we've got a roof over our heads—"
But Wan Qingping wasn't listening. "Don't worry, brother. I think we're almost there... Give it a couple more days, and we'll..." His words trailed off, becoming incoherent as he drunkenly slumped forward, passed out cold on the table.
The next morning, when the alcohol wore off, Wan Qingping didn't remember a thing about what he'd said the night before. Zhou Minghu had already gone back to the docks, hauling bags as usual, and Wan Qingping was left to wander aimlessly around town, hoping to make a quick buck through his usual tricks—scamming a few people, swindling a little cash, or faking accidents for quick payouts.
For the last six months, he had managed to keep his family fed, thanks in part to occasional handouts from Chen Kefà. But the work was demeaning. Zhou Minghu was happy to have a steady job, but for Wan Qingping, lifting heavy bags and doing menial labor felt like a slap in the face.
This isn't my life, he thought bitterly. I wasn't born to carry bags. I was born to rise up, to be somebody.
The problem was, even though he'd taken out those two twin brothers six months ago, he couldn't touch the territory of the Shen She Gang—the gang he'd once ruled. Sure, the government wasn't paying attention anymore, but if he took over their turf, someone would surely tip them off. And if he was caught, it would be straight to the prison cells.
The Shen She Gang's territory was off-limits, but most other places either had too much competition or no profit to offer. Wan Qingping was getting desperate, constantly thinking about how to make a big score.
One afternoon, as he wandered through the market, he spotted a perfect target. A rich-looking young man, dressed in fine clothes and accompanied by a small servant, was strolling through the stalls, admiring the goods and asking questions. The guy was obviously from the countryside—he looked clueless about the city, like a fish out of water.
Perfect, Wan Qingping thought with a smirk. A country bumpkin like that? I'll have him in my pocket in no time. If I let him slip by, the heavens will strike me down.
Just as he was about to approach, he noticed three shady figures moving in the same direction. Wan Qingping frowned. Those were familiar faces—three local thugs who were always lurking around here.
One of them, a guy named Li San, noticed Wan Qingping immediately and trotted over. "Master Wan! You're here!" he said, bowing and grinning.
Wan Qingping didn't even glance at him. "You three, get lost. The target's mine. This one's for me."
Li San wasn't fazed. He laughed and shrugged. "Master Wan, we know you're good with your fists, but this guy... He's not someone you can handle alone. Trust me, it's better if we work together."
Wan Qingping clenched his fist, cracking his knuckles. "Is that so?" he growled. "You're getting a bit too bold, huh?"
Li San immediately recoiled. He'd been on the receiving end of Wan Qingping's wrath before—twice, in fact—and the memories weren't pleasant. He quickly explained, "Master Wan, you might not know, but that servant leading the guy around... He's from the Zhao family. You know, Zhao Dashi, the one who runs the local government's operations? That's his personal servant. Look at the clothes—they're marked with the Zhao family crest."
Wan Qingping paused, his eyes narrowing. "Zhao family? The local big shots?"
Li San grinned. "Yep. You've heard of Zhao Dashi, right? He's got some serious connections in the city. Anyone who wears that insignia is untouchable. If you try to scam this guy, it could get ugly."
Wan Qingping stared at the young man and his servant for a moment, weighing his options. He wasn't stupid—he wasn't about to let go of a prime target just because of some fancy insignia. This was a rural fool, fresh off the farm, ripe for the picking.
"Do you guys have a plan to take him down?" Wan Qingping asked, suspicious but intrigued.
Li San leaned in, his voice lowering. "Don't worry, Master Wan. We've got a different angle. You just wait. When the money comes in, we'll treat you to a grand meal—six courses, wine included. Just watch and learn."
Wan Qingping thought for a moment, then finally grinned. "Alright. But if I see you all screw this up, you better watch out. I'll make sure you regret it."