Chapter - 355 Fresh Alliance of an Old Pledge (12) (1/2)

”All day long,” said Huang Rong, ”these cicadas call out 'zhi le, zhi le' endlessly, but whatever they know is unknown. Basically, even among insects there are guys who boast shamelessly. It makes me think of a particular person, and I rather miss him.”

”Who?” demanded Guo Jing.

”That big talker of bull,” said Huang Rong, smiling, ”the Iron Palm's Qiu 'Floats-Over-Water' Qianren!”

Guo Jing laughed loudly. ”That old trickster…!” he began.

He hadn't finished speaking when suddenly, from a corner of the restaurant, they heard somebody speaking in a mysterious voice: ”Looking down even on 'Floats-Over-Water' Elder Qiu of Iron Palm? That's some big talk!” Guo Jing and Huang Rong glanced at where the voice was coming from and saw a middle-aged beggar, with a swarthy complexion and clad in a tattered jacket, squatting by the corner and looking at them in snickering laughter.

Guo Jing, seeing that he was a Beggar Gang figure, immediately relaxed. Noticing that he had an agreeable expression, Guo Jing clasped his hands in respect and said: ”Senior, how about joining us and drinking a cup or three?”

”Sure!” said the beggar, coming over at once.

Huang Rong ordered an extra cup and set of chopsticks from a waiter. Pouring the cup with wine, she said with a smile: ”Please take a seat, and drink up!”

”Beggar here doesn't deserve a seat,” he answered. Sitting right there on the floorboards, he took out a broken bowl and a pair of bamboo chopsticks from a pocket. Extending the bowl, he said: ”The leftovers you're finished with – dump some over, and they'll do for me.”

”That'd be a bit too disrespectful!” said Guo Jing. ”Whatever dishes senior would like to eat, we'll order them up from the kitchen.”

”A beggar does as a beggar looks,” said the beggar. ”If he's one in name only – just feigning the accent and affecting the appearance – might as well not be a beggar. If you agree to hand it out, then hand it out. If not, I'm going someplace else to beg for food!”

Huang Rong took a glance at Guo Jing. ”Indeed!” she laughed. ”You said it right!” They then tipped all their leftover food into the broken bowl. The beggar grabbed a few clumps of cold rice from inside a pocket and, along with the leftovers, began eating them up zestfully.

Secretly, Huang Rong counted the number of pockets on him: there were three pockets to a cluster, and three clusters in total – in sum, nine pockets. Having another look at the three beggars around the other table, each of them was wearing nine pockets as well, but on their table was a lavish spread of food and drink. Those three acted as if they hadn't seen this one beggar, and all along had never so much as glanced at him; but at times, their expressions carried a faint look of disgust.

As the beggar continued eating heartily, they suddenly heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase, and three people started coming up. Guo Jing turned his head and looked towards the stairs.

The first two people were Fatty and Skinny, the two beggars who'd attended Yang Kang at Lin'an's Ox Village. The third person was Yang Kang himself. Poking his head up, he got a big shock at the sudden sight of Guo Jing, still alive; after a moment of panic, he abruptly turned back and descended the stairs in terror, speaking about something as he left. Fatty followed him down, but Skinny went over to the table of the three beggars and said a few things to them in a low voice. The three immediately stood up and departed down the stairs. Meanwhile, the beggar sitting on the floor just carried on eating, taking no notice of them at all.

Huang Rong went over to the window and looked down from it, seeing Yang Kang – thronged by a dozen beggars – departing westward. He hadn't gone far when he turned his head and glanced up. Happening to make eye contact with Huang Rong, he looked away instantly and quickened his pace.

The beggar, having finished eating his meal, licked the bottom of the bowl clean and clear with his extended tongue, gave his chopsticks a few wipes on his clothing, and put everything into a pocket. Huang Rong looked at him carefully. His face, covered with wrinkles, expressed anxiety and hardship; his hands were unusually big – almost double those of an ordinary person – and on their backs were raised blue veins, attesting to a lifetime of hard toil.