From street tabloids to the first newspaper of the Republic of China

A beggar walking down the street is like a pebble falling into a river, causing not a ripple.

Lin Wangzheng arrived at the same place as yesterday. There were still beggars there, but they were a different group of unfamiliar faces. They huddled together against the wall, like a row of paper figures soaked in dew, heads drooping and motionless.

Several people were lying on the ground; it was unclear whether they were asleep or unconscious.

Instead of walking directly over, he found a corner across the street, squatted down, and pretended to sunbathe.

Although the sun is not yet out, suddenly approaching would alert these people.

People who wander outside lack a sense of security and are unlikely to trust their fellow travelers.

He observed for a while and noticed something was wrong.

The beggars were divided into several small groups. The two or three on the left were middle-aged men. They were wearing similar tattered clothes, squatting together, occasionally whispering a few words.

The five or six people on the right, including men and women, young and old, were spread out and did not speak to each other.

Among the group of middle-aged beggars, one man sat alone, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, as if he were dozing off, but no one dared to disturb him.

The man was in his fifties. Apart from being a bit dirty, he didn't look like a beggar in terms of his spirit and energy. He also had a scar on his face, which extended diagonally from his left eyebrow to his earlobe. Half of his earlobe was missing, as if it had been cut off with a knife.

Occasionally, a beggar would get up to beg, and when he returned, he would hand the coins to the person. The person would then open his eyes, take the coins, count them to make sure the beggar hadn't kept any for himself, and then close his eyes again to doze off.

Lin Wangzheng realized that this was organized begging, and this person was the leader!

Could it be the legendary Beggars' Sect? We don't know for now.

He stood up, pretended to casually stretch his legs, and then slowly moved over to the group of people. About five or six meters away, he squatted down, hugged his knees, and pretended to look pitiful.

It's a good thing that nobody's paying attention to him.

He squatted for half an hour, then his legs went numb again, as if he had been electrocuted, and he had no choice but to get up and move around.

The sun has already risen, hanging in the eastern sky, and its warmth feels pleasant on my skin.

But as the temperature rose, the sewage on the ground became increasingly smelly, and flies became active, buzzing around Lin Wangzheng, who was slightly sweating.

Finally, the scarred man couldn't sleep any longer and glanced at him.

But it was only a glance, and he quickly looked away, as if he were looking at something unimportant.

Lin Wangzheng was somewhat disappointed, wondering if he should take the initiative, go up and say hello, and hand over the protection money he had brought.

After a while, a younger beggar stood up, walked up to Lin Wangzheng, and looked him up and down.

"Where did it come from?"

The young beggar's voice was hoarse, with a Jiangbei accent.

Lin Wangzheng half-raised his head, trying to feign a numb expression, and spoke in a thick Beijing accent:

"Beiping, my family has fallen on hard times."

That's the truth, but only a few people know the specifics.

Many beggars these days are good-for-nothing playboys who have no skills, are lazy and gluttonous, and have no choice but to beg on the streets after their families have fallen on hard times.

In places like Beiping, there were many impoverished Manchu bannermen, but some of them still had some money and could buy a rickshaw to carry passengers and live a comfortable life.

Many more relied on begging for a living. Beggars were originally vagrants, so it was not surprising that they wandered to Shanghai.

After all, people strive for better things; even beggars will look for more prosperous areas. More competition means more opportunities...

The young man glanced at him, asked no further questions, turned around and walked back, whispering a few words in the scarred man's ear.

Scarface looked up at Lin Wangzheng, this time staring at him for a long time, and suddenly said:

"come over."

Lin Wangzheng stood up, walked over, and squatted down in front of him, adopting a very humble posture.

Scarface stared at him for a while, then asked:

"What generation are you in?"

Lin Wangzheng was taken aback, unsure how to respond.

Organized beggars do indeed have a hierarchy within their ranks.

This rule originated in the Song Dynasty and reached its peak in the Ming and Qing Dynasties. It placed great emphasis on the seniority system, and violations were subject to severe punishment.

But he knew absolutely nothing about the key to it!

"Niangxipi..." (Fenghua accent)

Lin Wangzheng cursed inwardly, deciding to take a gamble: "I've never been in the business before... I just escaped to Shanghai and haven't had a chance to pay my respects."

Scarface's expression didn't change much; he was used to it. He glanced at Lin Wangzheng again, took out a dark-colored steamed bun from his pocket, broke it in half, and handed it to him.

"eat."

Lin Wangzheng took it and eagerly stuffed it into his mouth. The steamed bun was spoiled, had a sour taste, and was as hard as a rock. His cheeks ached from chewing it.

But he didn't show any unusual expression, or rather, he couldn't show such an expression. He pretended that he hadn't eaten in a long time and wolfed down his food.

Scarface watched him finish eating and nodded.

"Follow along, but don't wander off. If you trespass on someone else's territory, you might not have such good luck."

Lin Wangzheng nodded, squatted down to one side, and didn't say anything more.

The first step is done!

......

Over the next two days.

Lin Wangzheng followed the group of beggars and begged in the area of ​​the Second Racecourse.

There are many gangs among beggars, each with its own sphere of influence. If you wander around aimlessly, you might get beaten to death by your fellow beggars.

In fact, apart from newly arrived migrants who consider begging a last resort, for organized beggars, it is a profession for making a living.

Just like going to work, he had to go out to work every morning, led by a scarred man known as "Uncle Sun," to beg in this area.

The method is very simple, just like the stereotype: those who have bowls put out a broken bowl, and those who don't have bowls reach out their hands, doing whatever is most pitiful.

Because these beggars have no talents or eloquence, they belong to the lowest part of the beggar ecosystem.

Nowadays, begging has become professionalized. Many beggars can perform acrobatics or stand-up comedy, and people are willing to pay for them based on these skills alone. Some even know a little foreign language and specifically ask Westerners for money, naturally collecting more from them.

People like them, begging with their hands outstretched, would naturally feel pity if they were missing limbs or seriously ill. This is because in the Xia Kingdom, the principle of "not bowing down for five pecks of rice" is highly valued. Unless absolutely necessary, no one is willing to sacrifice their personal dignity for a chance at survival.

This is also a typical portrayal of beggars.

As for the professional team that Lin Wangzheng has now joined, most of the members are fine except for being a little thin and dark-skinned, and many passersby usually hold a disdainful attitude towards them.

A few people would give money and food, but most would just yell "Get lost!" or even be spat on.

Lin Wangzheng had been spat on so much that he was almost red with anger.

After squatting for two days, his knees were red and swollen, his back ached, and the scorching sun made him dizzy.

As a novice, he didn't earn much money, seven coins on the first day and twelve coins on the second day, but he was still considered talented.

If I learn this skill, I won't starve even if the newspaper is shut down.

When it got completely dark, it was time to finish work and go home to that shantytown.

It was a makeshift shed made of bamboo poles, straw mats, and rags, crammed at the end of an alley. One had to stoop to enter; the ground was covered with straw and rags, and piles of scavenged junk lay in the corners. Next to it was a garbage dump, its stench overwhelming under the scorching summer sun.

Lin Wangzheng almost threw up on his first day there.

Rotting garbage, moldy straw, the stench of human sweat, the stench of feces, the pus and blood from wounds... all mixed together, you can imagine what it must feel like.

Even now, I haven't gotten used to it.

Inside the shed, a dozen or so people were crammed together, like sardines in a can of "Tom and Jerry," with only room for their bottoms; when they lay down, their shoulders were touching, and they had to tell each other in advance if they wanted to turn over.

Lin Wangzheng, being new, was assigned to stand by the door, surrounded by stench. He considered going home to sleep, but gritted his teeth and persevered.

To create big news, you need to be able to endure hardship!

His "neighbor" was an old beggar in his forties, whom everyone called "Old Ma." He was so thin that his skin and bones were showing, and his cloudy eyes were sunken deep in their sockets.

"Hey newbie, do you know the rules here?"

Old Ma lit the half-smoked cigarette he had picked up.

Lin Wangzheng squatted outside the shed and shook his head.

Old Ma pointed to the innermost part of the shed, where there was a slightly more decent shed, partitioned off with a few wooden planks, and a tattered cloth curtain hanging at the entrance. He slowly said:

"That's Uncle Sun's house. He's our 'Little Uncle,' which means he's the little beggar leader. He's in charge of this area. You give him the money you beg for each day, and he takes 60% of it."

"We'll divide the rest among ourselves."

Lin Wangzheng frowned: "Sixty percent?"

Old Ma glanced at him, somewhat displeased:

"If you think it's too much, don't stay here. Go look around elsewhere. Some places take 70% or 80% of the profits. Uncle Sun is considered to have a conscience."

"He built this territory. He took care of the police, the officers, and the gangs. Without his protection, we wouldn't even be able to squat on the street. We would have been beaten away with sticks long ago."

"He has connections above him; do you think he took it all?"

Lin Wangzheng nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

Tonight, he lay on the rotting straw, eyes wide open, listening to the chorus of snores, unable to sleep a wink all night.

How did these people become like this?

......

August 21st, no wind and no rain.

Early in the morning, the beggars went to work as usual.

"Greater China, Greater China! A new article by Mr. Liang Qichao!"

"The 'Strange Question of the Form of Government' has been published! Let's see Mr. Liang Qichao's rebuttal of the Preparatory Committee for the Establishment of a Peaceful State!"

"Reprinted in the *Shen Bao* and *Shi Bao* newspapers, it's always a hot seller!"

Newspaper boys were hawking their wares on the street, but Lin Wangzheng was in no mood to think. He hadn't been sleeping or eating well these past few days, and he'd even had an upset stomach; his mind was numb and couldn't process anything.

Today is the third day, and he has become quite familiar with the other beggars. He has started to subtly try to find out more information.

Starting with "Where are you from?", the conversation gradually moved to "How did you come to Shanghai?", "Who else is in your family?", "How long have you been here?", and so on. At first, no one spoke, and most people were unwilling to talk.

They were used to silence, used to keeping everything bottled up inside and not telling anyone.

But there are also people like Lao Ma, who, because they haven't spoken their minds for so long, can't stop once they start.

"I'm from Henan. My family suffered from drought, and all the crops died."

"My parents starved to death first, and my wife and son never came back."

"I sold my daughter and didn't know where to go... I spent all two silver dollars and begged my way to Shanghai. I heard from others that it was easier to survive here."

When Old Ma said these things, his tone was so calm that it was as if he were talking about someone else's story, as if he were not the one whose parents starved to death, whose wife and children disappeared without a trace, and who survived by selling his daughter.

Lin Wangzheng silently kept it in mind and asked:

"You arrived in Shanghai? And you started begging right from the beginning?"

Old Ma shook his head and gave a wry smile:

"I tried to find work—docks, factories, construction sites, I did everything. But you don't know, it's hard for someone my age to find work. Then I got sick, and then..."

At this point, he spread his hands:

"What else can we do? Better to live a miserable life than die. I've come to terms with it. You're still young, you shouldn't be hanging out with us. It's never too late to do anything... You should leave soon."

Lin Wangzheng remained silent for a long time before asking again:

Do you miss home?

Old Ma sneered:

"I don't even have a family anymore, what's the point of thinking about a home?"

He didn't say anything more, got up and went to the street to beg from passersby. He was kicked, but he still nodded and bowed happily.

Another man, Lao Liu, also in his thirties, spoke up at this moment:

"I fled during the war. There were bandits in our area who burned down the village. My wife was killed by them... In the end, only I was left. I took the child and headed south. We ran away for two days, and then the child died from a fever."

Lin Wangzheng lowered his head:

My condolences.

He suddenly thought of the original owner's experience, which was actually quite similar to those of these people, except that Old Liu suffered from illegal banditry, while the original owner suffered from legal banditry.

"And you, do you still have family at home?"

Old Liu suddenly asked a question in return.

Lin Wangzheng clicked his tongue and shook his head:

"They're gone. They were all wiped out."

Old Liu nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

......

night.

When Lin Wangzheng returned to Rolling Dragon after work, he found that there was one more person there.

It was a five or six-year-old child, as thin as a stick.

His face was filthy, making it impossible to see his features or gender; he was huddled in a corner, covered with a tattered cloth, shivering all over.

"New here?"

Lin Wangzheng asked Uncle Sun.

Old Ma glanced at the child and sighed:

"The mouse was picked up from the dock this afternoon."

"Rat" is a young man in this group, around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, who is responsible for "picking up people" at places like docks and train stations.

That is, to bring back those who had just fled to Shanghai and were destitute, and hand them over to Uncle Sun to expand the team. This was his responsibility in the gang.

"This child must have been abandoned at the dock after his family suffered a disaster and he ran away with his parents."

The rat with shifty eyes explained.

Lin Wangzheng walked up to the child and squatted down:

"What's your name?"

The child didn't speak, his eyes filled with terror.

"He's terrified, he needs to calm down."

Uncle Sun's voice was devoid of emotion.

Lin Wangzheng looked into the child's eyes and took out the life-saving dry ration from his pocket:

"Are you starving? Here, have some, but take your time."

The child looked at the dry food, hesitated for a moment, then reached out, took it, stuffed it into his mouth, and wolfed it down.

After finishing the steamed bun, she looked up at him, and finally a glimmer of light appeared in her eyes, filled with gratitude.

"fine."

Lin Wangzheng smiled and reached out to pat the child's head.

The child's hair was matted together, infested with lice and dirt, but he didn't flinch.

"How about we call you Little Flea?"

The child nodded, but remained silent.

Uncle Sun, standing right behind Lin Wangzheng, watched all of this with a blank expression, a hint of doubt in his eyes...