Chinese martial arts: From human punching bags to martial arts mastery

The river breeze, carrying moist air, was slightly cool on my face.

Chen Feng stood on the deck of the small steamship, and when he looked up, he bumped into a familiar yet unexpected figure. His pupils suddenly contracted, and a low murmur escaped his throat.

"Is it you?"

The disbelief in his voice was impossible to hide, and the air seemed to freeze instantly.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Hu Tao's heart jumped into her throat. She quickly stepped forward and stood between the two, explaining rapidly, "Chen Feng! This ship belongs to Yihe Trading Company. We were only able to borrow it thanks to Tang Tang's father's intervention!"

She was afraid that these two natural enemies would start arguing before the ship even set sail, ruining the important trip.

Upon hearing this, Chen Feng remained expressionless and turned to walk towards the bow of the boat without uttering a word, leaving behind only a cold and hard figure gazing at the surging river.

Tang Tang gazed at the lone figure, a slight smile unconsciously curving her lips. She then affectionately took Hu Tao's arm and said softly, "Come on, the river wind is strong outside. Let's go inside and have some pastries!"

The voice just fell.

"Waaah—"

A sharp, piercing whistle shattered the tranquility of the river, and the small, black steamship slowly turned its propeller, officially leaving the dock and breaking through the blue waves and white billows of the Huangpu River.

"Yo-ho!"

The shouts of the boatmen and the sound of oars mingling with the river breeze rushed towards us.

Chen Feng looked up.

The vast Huangpu River was magnificent, with large cargo ships lined up end to end in a long, winding line. The decks were piled high with rice, white cotton yarn, and various other bulk goods. The sails were billowing in the river wind as they passed by the small steamer carrying Chen Feng.

As Chen Feng gazed at the vivid scene before him, his heart was filled with a myriad of emotions. In his previous life, he had only seen such a river scene from an old era in faded and brittle old museum photographs. But now, the historical scroll from a hundred years ago was unfolding before him so realistically and profoundly. Every wisp of river breeze, every boat, and every shout carried a heavy sense of the era, crashing into his heart.

Soon,

The small steamer has reached the Waibaidu Bridge, where the Huangpu River and the Suzhou Creek meet.

On the water, barges towed by tugboats came and went in an endless stream. Their holds were filled with black coal and coarse sand and gravel. The barges were drafted very deep and moved slowly on the water. They were a dark mass that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

"Chen Feng!"

Hu Sanzhen stood on the side of the boat, pointing to the Suzhou River in front of him, and talked eloquently.

"The Suzhou Creek, originally named the Wusong River, is one of the oldest main streams in the Taihu Lake basin!"

"This river originates at Guajingkou in Taihu Lake, flows eastward through Suzhou and Kunshan before entering Shanghai, with a total length of 125 kilometers. Only the 53 kilometers east of Beixinjing in Shanghai are called the Suzhou River!"

Hu Sanzhen's words were filled with familiarity and pride in this mother river.

"During the Tang and Song dynasties, this was Shanghai's earliest 'golden waterway.' At its widest point during the Tang dynasty, the estuary stretched for 10 kilometers. Qinglong Town (present-day Qingpu) was the earliest seaport in Jiangnan, and its foreign trade flourished!"

As he spoke, he spread his arms wide, making an exaggerated gesture.

"From the Song and Yuan dynasties onwards, the Yangtze River accumulated silt, and the Wusong River gradually became shallower, leading to frequent floods. The river's surface was only 4.5 kilometers wide. At that time, there was a saying that it was 'deep and wide enough to rival a thousand ports,' yet it remained the lifeline of the canal transport and commerce in Jiangnan!"

That's all.

A deep sense of nostalgia welled up in Hu Sanzhen's eyes, as if he had witnessed this part of the river's history firsthand.

He stroked his white beard and sighed softly, "In the first year of the Yongle reign of the Ming Dynasty, Xia Yuanji, then Minister of Revenue, was in charge of water management. He widened the Fanjiabang area, intending to divert water from Dianshan Lake into the Huangpu River and then into the Yangtze River!"

"Hey--"

He emphasized a word heavily, his tone filled with regret: "As a result, the Huangpu River overtook it to become the main stream, while the Wusong River became a tributary, flowing into the Huangpu River at the Waibaidu Bridge... This is historically known as 'The Huangpu River Taking Over the Wusong River'!"

Speaking of it.

Hu Sanzhen suddenly looked at Chen Feng, a sly smile on his face: "You know that rascal Ming Jiajing, right?"

Before Chen Feng could nod, he quipped, "Your kung fu is amazing, but you thought being an emperor wasn't challenging enough, so you decided to try cultivating immortality!"

Speaking of it.

Like a child, Hu Sanzhen tilted his head and stuck out his tongue: "In the end, the immortal cultivation went wrong..."

Then, changing the subject, he returned to the main point: "From that time on, the lower reaches of the Wusong River were fixed as the Suzhou Creek today, belonging to the Huangpu River system!"

The words fell.

He slowly lit his pipe and took a deep drag.

"After Shanghai opened as a treaty port in 1843, foreign residents discovered that this river led directly to Suzhou, the silk weaving center of Jiangnan at the time, and marked it on the map as Soochow Creek, which is the Suzhou River!"

"In 1848, the Sino-British concession treaty was signed, and 'Suzhou Creek' was officially used for the first time, replacing 'Wusong River' as the common name for the Shanghai section!"

After hearing these words...

Chen Feng's heart skipped a beat: "Senior Hu! How do you know so much detail? It's like you saw it with your own eyes!"

Hu Sanzhen chuckled: "Having lived this long, what haven't I seen?"

Before he finished speaking, he had already climbed into the cabin.

"Waaah—"

Another whistle sounded, and the small steamship, panting heavily, slowly passed the old sluice bridge.

The scene before my eyes suddenly became crowded and bustling—the entire Suzhou River was teeming with all kinds of boats, like dumplings being thrown into a pot, almost filling the waterway.

The first thing that catches the eye is a row of bamboo and wooden "rafts"—thick bamboo and wooden planks are tightly bound together and float downstream.

Each bundle of rafts was occupied by a dark-skinned, agile "raftsman."

At the very front, leading raft, stood a seasoned "raft leader."

He gripped the long pole, pedaled the raft, and, in a hoarse yet resonant voice, chanted a poignant folk song: "Rafter, soul of the waves, a single bamboo pole supports the whole family!"

The rugged songs echoed through the river, telling the story of the hardships faced by people living on the water.

Next to the rafts are rows of small, exquisite "sampans," their hulls light and shallow, nimbly weaving between the larger boats.

Near the dock, small "ships" with double oars ply back and forth. Boatmen row and boatmen are busy unloading goods. These commercial ships with fixed routes are the lifeline for the distribution of goods to shops in urban and rural areas.

Amidst the commotion, a manure boat stood imposingly moored on the water, its hull emitting a foul odor, while a dozen men carried bags of manure onto the boat.

Chen Feng's gaze swept across the bow of the ship, and he immediately spotted Ma Laosan standing there, giving orders with an air of superiority.

Ma Laosan also saw Chen Feng on the small steamer. He was stunned at first, and his brows furrowed instantly. But in an instant, a trace of fear flashed in his eyes. He immediately put on a fawning yet sinister smile, raised his hand to clasp his fists towards Chen Feng, and pretended to greet him.

Chen Feng simply stared at him coldly, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

Then, I slowly shifted my gaze to the water further inside the dock—a strangely shaped "foreign-foot furnace boat" was moored on the shore. A hunched old man with a wrinkled face was squatting on the boat, tending the furnace fire to smelt copper, carefully repairing the "furnace feet." His movements were slow but not clumsy, and he seemed particularly lonely in this noisy river.

The small steamer slowly sailed into the depths of the Suzhou Creek. The stench in the waterway grew stronger, a mixture of feces, water vapor, and the smell of moldy goods, making people frown.

Just then.

A black-hulled official ship with a snow-white smokestack slowly sailed from the opposite direction. Cold iron hooks hung on both sides of the ship's side. Amidst the surging waves, one could vaguely see one or two stiff corpses hanging on the hooks, swaying with the waves, which made people's scalps tingle.

At that very moment.

A familiar voice quietly approached Chen Feng's side. Hu Sanzhen was standing beside him again, his gaze fixed on the official ship. His voice was low and meaningful: "This is the Public Works Bureau's 'Corpse Freezing Ship.' There's a lot more to it than meets the eye!"

When it comes to the last few words.

He turned to look at Chen Feng, a deep meaning hidden in his cloudy eyes. After a pause, he lowered his voice and added, "This ship is under the jurisdiction of the section chief of the lower section of the Suzhou River. He has to handle 80 corpses every day!"

Hu Sanzhen stretched out his hand and made an "eight" gesture, deliberately emphasizing his tone, each word hitting Chen Feng's heart like a hammer blow.

Chen Feng's gaze sharpened slightly, sensing the hidden meaning in those words. He immediately cupped his hands in a respectful gesture, his expression solemn: "Elder Hu, I am not very familiar with this world. I humbly request your guidance and detailed explanation!"

Hu Sanzhen chuckled, his laughter dry, but his tone instantly turned as cold as an icy ridge in the dead of winter: "This ship houses surgeons and also hides a tank of liquid ammonia. The corpses we pull up will have their hearts, kidneys, corneas, uteruses... every organ that can be sold will be harvested while they're still alive, then flash-frozen at -45°C and sent to the concession hospital overnight!"

He pointed to the conspicuous white chimney, his voice icy: "See that? That's for venting liquid ammonia!"

That's all.

Hu Sanzhen raised his calloused hand and gently patted Chen Feng's shoulder, his eyes sharp as knives, and said, word by word, "A knife can kill, but it can also save! Section Chief Chen!"

Upon hearing this, Chen Feng's heart sank, and he cursed inwardly, "That old geezer is wicked!"

He instantly understood that his master, Yan Tieqiao, had not simply appointed him as the section chief of the lower section of the Suzhou River to make money or coast along.