Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

"Thank you for your help."

As he spoke, the young man gently patted his coworker's orange vest sleeve, which was covered in dust, and smiled at him. There was no deliberate friendliness or condescending sympathy in that smile; it was just a natural expression of someone asking for a favor.

Then, the young man turned around and walked towards the street where scraps of paper and withered leaves were still scattered.

The way the young man was sweeping the floor showed that he rarely did this kind of work.

The way he held the broom was a bit casual, unlike the experienced masters who had developed the most effortless and effective fixed angle and force over the years. The range of motion of the broom was not large, but each swing was very steady and solid.

He wasn't in a hurry to pursue speed or make a big "whoosh" sound, nor did he just do a perfunctory job of only scratching the surface.

Instead, he would bend slightly over, his eyes fixed on the ground a step or two in front of him. If he saw any inconspicuous cigarette butts, small pieces of paper, or fallen leaves embedded in the cracks between the bricks, he would use a little more skill to turn the broom head to the side or flick his wrist to move them out and gather them together.

As the morning light gradually brightens, it outlines the figure wielding the broom. His focus and meticulousness are clearly conveyed through his slightly forward-leaning back and steadily moving arms.

There was no performative element, no deliberate gesture; it was like a novice who had been temporarily called in to help but didn't want to cause trouble, completing the specific and small task at hand in what he considered the most earnest way.

The swept floor left clean, clear streaks.

30 Lawless (Seeking first subscription)

At the folding table, Lao He finished his steamed buns in a few bites, and then, tilting his head back, emptied his soy milk in just a few seconds.

With warmth rising in his stomach and the two solid banknotes clutched in his hand, he felt more confident.

Rubbing his eyes, under the dim light, Lao He took out his old cell phone with a cracked screen and started calling his coworkers from the nearby streets.

"Hey, Lao Li! Are you over in Jiefang Lane? Hurry up, come to the steamed bun shop on Zhongshan Road... Yes, the one called 'Liu Ji Lao Baozi'! Why? Good news! People from the Municipal Government came to visit and gave us money! Two hundred yuan in cash! ... Why would I lie to you? I just got it! It's still warm!"

"Sister Wang! Stop sweeping for now, come and get your money! ...Oh, it's not a scam! I've already received it, and the person was dressed... well, anyway, they looked like an official, very proper, and even helped me sweep the floor for a while!"

At first, the person on the other end of the phone mostly asked with surprise and doubt: "Really?" "Old He, did you not wake up properly last night?" "City government? A condolence visit? And they're giving cash directly? I've never heard of such a procedure..."

After Lao He swore an oath, even promising to give you half of my salary this month if it's fake, the two or three closest coworkers came over with some skepticism.

Anyway, it's only a street or two away, so it won't take much effort to stroll over and take a look. Consider it a chance to catch your breath.

If Old He tries to scam me, I should at least get a cigarette from him... um, two.

Zhang Qiliang continued to leisurely scan the remaining half of the street while keeping an eye out for approaching figures.

Each time someone came by, he would stop briefly, take out two banknotes from his pocket, hand them over with both hands, and say, "Thank you for your hard work, this is just a small token of my appreciation."

The tone was calm, the process simple, as if what was handed out wasn't two hundred yuan, but a flyer.

The new worker received the crisp, new banknotes, examined them repeatedly, and ran his fingertips along the unique texture of the banknotes. The initial suspicion on his face was quickly replaced by surprise and joy.

When someone tried to ask a few more questions, Zhang Qiliang just smiled and pointed to the street: "I'll finish up this little bit of work first."

Then he picked up the broom and walked away.

"Old He is telling the truth!" The coworker who had just received the money also took out his phone, his voice trembling with excitement.

“I’ve already received it! Two hundred! Cash!” another added, and even took a close-up photo of the banknote—he didn’t dare to take a full picture for fear of getting into trouble, but the red color and the number “100” were convincing enough.

"It's right on Zhongshan Road, in front of 'Liu's Old-Fashioned Steamed Buns'! Come quick! They said it's a gift to all of us who went to work this morning!"

With several people confirming, the ripples spread rapidly.

These days, which industry doesn't have a few WeChat groups for communication?

“XX District Cleaning Mutual Aid Group”, “Zhongshan Road Area Work Notification Group”, “Old Workers Chat Group”...

In these groups where people usually exchange work schedules, complain about the weather, and look out for each other, messages started flooding in.

"Confirmed! Received!"

"I received it too! Thank you for the government's concern! (smiley face)"

"Everyone hurry up and go! That comrade said the amount is limited, first come, first served!" Someone added this sentence.

First come, first served?!

That's pretty cool!

These four words act like a powerful catalyst.

I was initially hesitant and planned to wait until I finished sweeping my own assigned area before going, but I immediately changed my mind.

Those emptying trash cans put down their high-pressure water guns and ran this way; those who had just finished their shift and were about to start sweeping turned their tricycles around; those who had already swept a section and were taking a break didn't stop for a moment...

The message traveled along the street's veins, from one orange figure to another, from group chats on phone screens to shouts in real life.

In the early morning, the city corners, where people were usually scattered and working quietly, seemed to be gently pulled by an invisible thread, and streams of orange began to converge towards the entrance of "Liu's Old Steamed Buns".

By this time, Zhang Qiliang had finished sweeping the remaining street area, and also bagged the pile of garbage that Lao He had gathered earlier, placing it at the designated disposal point.

Zhang Qiliang returned to the folding table.

The black plastic bag was right next to me.

More and more workers gradually gathered, a dozen, twenty or thirty people... Most of them still carried brooms and dustpans, or rode those small cleaning tricycles, and gathered in twos and threes on the sidewalk in front of the steamed bun shop, looking around with curiosity, anticipation and a little restraint.

There were no formal queues, and no one was maintaining order.

But a simple tacit understanding among the workers was at play: those who arrived first stood slightly forward, while those who arrived later stood behind or to the side; acquaintances chatted quietly, and strangers nodded to each other; no one pushed or made a loud noise, but all eyes were focused on the young man sitting behind the folding table.

Then, the distribution began.

Its speed was so fast that everyone watching, including the steamed bun shop owners, was stunned.

There are no forms to fill out, and no need to show a work ID or verify identity.

There was no speech from the master, and no group photo session.

There is no need to sign, put your fingerprints, or leave a mark.

Not to mention smart devices that claim "facial recognition verification confirms you are a friend".

The process is extremely simple: wearing an orange or fluorescent green reflective vest, walk to the folding table, and without even saying a word, just stand there—some people are even shy and hesitant—and Zhang Qiliang will have already pulled out two banknotes from the plastic bag at his feet and handed them over with both hands.

"Thanks for your hard work."

Some of the workers who received the money hesitated for a moment before hurriedly taking it and thanking him repeatedly; others smiled sheepishly, rubbed their hands together, and then took it; still others reacted quickly, saying "Thank you for your concern, sir" and "Thank you to the government" as they received the money...

Zhang Qiliang's response is usually just a nod, or a genuine smile in return: "Everyone should thank you."

The entire process, from the worker standing still to the money being handed over and received by the other party, takes an average of less than three seconds.

These three seconds were often "delayed" by the simple, sometimes overly emotional, thanks from the coworkers.

Efficient, direct, and without any redundant steps.

The banknotes dwindled from the black plastic bag, and the workers, with smiles and tangible rewards, dispersed contentedly, returning to their respective posts or sharing their joy with familiar colleagues.

……

Similarly, as the saying goes, these days, which work group doesn't have one or two bugs lurking in the shadows?

About half an hour.

A low growl of an engine, utterly out of place with the tranquility of the early morning, approached from afar.

A black SUV sped up, seemingly having already locked onto its target. It made a rather aggressive diagonal cut near the steamed bun shop and came to a stop on the side of the road, its tires almost scraping the curb.

The car door slammed open, causing the car to shake violently.

The man who came down was around forty years old, wearing a navy blue jacket, with a slightly protruding belly.

His face was flushed, his brows were furrowed, and as soon as he got out of the car, his gaze swept over the gathered cleaners and Zhang Qiliang behind the table like a searchlight, his eyes filled with a mixture of annoyance, doubt, and dissatisfaction at being offended.

He strode to the folding table, his fingers almost touching the surface, his voice sharp with urgency:

"Which department are you from? Huh? Which section of the municipal government? I can't get through on the phone, and you're not replying to messages. Don't you have any sense of the rules and regulations?!"

Zhang Qiliang had just handed two hundred yuan to an elderly woman when he heard the voice and turned his head: "What? Is something the matter?"

"Still handing out money? Who gave you permission to hand out money here?!" The man in the jacket raised his voice, attracting more attention from those around him. Some of the cleaners who hadn't left yet uneasily stepped back, but were reluctant to go far away.

“That’s strange,” Zhang Qiliang tilted his head slightly, his expression genuinely puzzled. “Do I need to… report to you beforehand just to offer my condolences to the hardworking people who are working so early in the morning?”

"Of course!" As if he had caught them red-handed, the man in the jacket spoke even more forcefully. "These are employees of the cleaning system, and this is a matter under the jurisdiction of our Cleaning Department! Who gave you permission to bypass the relevant authorities and directly distribute money and goods to the employees? Also, which department of the Municipal Administration Bureau are you in? Why can't we find your dispatch notice or contact information at all? Show us your work ID!"

The visitor spoke rapidly, skillfully slapping on a string of accusations of "overstepping authority," "violating regulations," and "incomplete procedures." This is a common tactic used by government offices to deal with unruly "insiders" or meddlesome "outsiders."

"No work permit." Zhang Qiliang shook his head, his hands still busy, and pulled out two large bills from the bag at his feet, handing them to the next cleaning uncle who nervously approached.

"What's wrong with you?! This is outrageous!" The man in the jacket was enraged by this dismissive attitude. Seeing that the thickness of the banknotes in the black plastic bag had decreased once again, he became anxious—well, perhaps he was heartbroken—and actually reached out to grab the bag on the table, trying to forcibly stop this "illegal" distribution.

"Tsk," Zhang Qiliang clicked his tongue lightly, raised his wrist, and casually tapped the thick back of the outstretched hand with his index and middle fingers.

The man in the jacket felt as if he had been pricked by a red-hot needle on the back of his hand. It was numb and painful. He cried out in surprise and pulled his hand back as if he had been electrocuted. He looked at his hand, which had turned red instantly, with suspicion and uncertainty, and then glared at Zhang Qiliang.

“Alright,” Zhang Qiliang put down his hand, his tone tinged with helplessness, “Just now, to make it easier for everyone to receive their money, I made a little joke and used the title of ‘city bureau staff.’ Actually, I’m just an ordinary citizen. Seeing all of you working so hard before dawn, I felt bad and thought I’d contribute some money to show my appreciation and offer my condolences. This… shouldn’t be against the law, right?”

"That's even worse!" Upon hearing that it was an individual act, the man in the jacket did not relax; instead, he became even more serious.

"how?"

The man in the jacket cleared his throat, his words brimming with authority: "On a small scale, this is an unauthorized gathering of people, disrupting normal public order and city management! On a larger scale, your behavior seriously interferes with the normal operation of city sanitation work—look for yourself, how many people have left their posts and missed today's cleaning and maintenance work because of your so-called 'visit'? If it delays the superiors' inspection and affects performance evaluations, can you bear that responsibility?"

As he spoke, the man in the jacket glanced at the cleaning workers around him, his eyes sharp. Several workers he saw instinctively lowered their heads or looked away.

Zhang Qiliang nodded thoughtfully: "Oh... I didn't know there were so many intricacies. So, according to the rules, what should I do?"

Seeing that he had yielded, the man in the jacket's expression softened slightly, and his tone became more gentle: "Of course, you must first report to our Cleansing Department, explain the situation, and submit your relief plan and a statement of the source of funds. Then, our bureau will arrange the time and place, organize relevant personnel, and distribute the aid in an orderly and standardized manner. This way, we can both demonstrate social concern and not disrupt normal work, don't you agree?"

As he spoke, the man in the jacket glanced at the black plastic bag from time to time, a mixture of assessment and greed flashing deep in his eyes.

The person who can casually offer so much cash as a gesture of goodwill must be quite wealthy. Moreover, he seems to be a clueless young man or a nouveau riche who doesn't understand the rules of government. He's someone you can take advantage of, or even... squeeze some money out of.

"Oh dear," the naive young man said with a perfectly measured regret. He picked up the black plastic bag and looked inside—after all the distribution, there was probably only three to five thousand yuan left in cash. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Look, I've almost finished distributing them all, and there's only this little bit left."

"It's alright!" The man in the jacket waved his hand magnanimously. "It's good that the young man has the intention, but he doesn't know the rules. Take the rest with you and come with me to the office to complete the formalities. We're just following the procedures; we're all trying to get things done properly."

"Then... these 'consolation money' that have already been sent out..." the naive young man asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about that,” the man in the jacket smiled more broadly, “we’ll handle it.”

Calculating advance wages, offsetting performance bonuses, and deducting high-temperature subsidies are all trivial matters that require typing a few words.

“Oh right,” Zhang Qiliang said, shaking the plastic bag again as if he had suddenly remembered something.

With a few soft clinking sounds, several gleaming, substantial gold rings, along with a dazzling gold watch with a shimmering dial and strap, landed on the rough folding table, reflecting an alluring luster in the morning light.

"I have a few small items here that I was planning to exchange for cash to express my goodwill. But since you, the official in charge, are here, then... do I not need to worry about dealing with these anymore?"

The man in the jacket's eyes lit up.

"Oh, this... of course it's also our duty... Well, the donation and disposal of valuable items require a standardized process. Don't worry, leave it to us, we'll handle it properly and make sure this good intention is put into practice."

As he spoke, he naturally reached out and gathered the few golden items on the table.

"That's great." The young man nodded, even with a hint of relief in his smile.

Then, a slender hand precisely grasped the man in the jacket's wrist.

Like steel clamps.

31. Get up early and go for a walk.

"What are you doing?" The man in the jacket was startled when his wrist was grabbed, and then he struggled but couldn't break free.

He looked at the young man behind the table with some annoyance and raised his voice: "Let go! What kind of behavior is this!"

"The things are too scattered, let me help you put them away."

"Put it away? If you want to put it away, just put it in the bag..." the man in the jacket muttered to himself, but then he noticed the young man's free hand picking up a ring from the table.

The ring was a men's style, with a thick band and simple geometric patterns. In the increasingly bright morning light, it shone with a heavy, warm gold hue.

Then he saw the ring being held by the young man and handed to him...?

"Hey, don't try that!" The man in the jacket was startled at first, then felt a mixture of disdain and wariness.

In full view of everyone, he directly stuffed a gold ring into her hand?

This is so unruly! Even coal mine owners who've been in business for thirty years don't operate like this!

"Don't be shy." As if he hadn't heard the refusal at all, the young man continued his actions, and the ring steadily moved toward the glove that was being held.

"No! This is really inappropriate! You..." The man in the jacket's voice trailed off.

He finally noticed that something was wrong.

The ring's band size is clearly suitable for wearing on the middle or ring finger.

The young man's target was his thumb.