Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

The waiter now knows all too well how terrifying this old man's smile can be.

His legs went weak and he almost knelt down, so he quickly added more information like beans pouring from a bamboo tube:

"Really! Brother, I'm not lying to you! I've been in debt on my credit card for years, and I can't pay it back. My credit score is completely ruined, and I can't even get online loans... You see,"

The waiter frantically pulled out his phone, turned on the screen, and showed the frozen payment app interface. "My WeChat Pay is restricted; I'm using my mom's family card now..."

"The month is only halfway over, and I still have to wait another two weeks to get my salary..."

"All I have on me... is a little over two hundred yuan in cash..."

"Serves you right!" Zhang Qiliang raised his hand and slapped him across the face.

The waiter had no time to react. He felt an irresistible force slap his face, his vision blurred, his ears rang, and he was spun around uncontrollably for two full rotations before finally regaining his balance. Half of his cheek instantly swelled up and burned with pain.

"You're so immoral, you deserve to be poor!"

Zhang Qiliang's voice betrayed no sympathy: "Nobody asked you to forcibly stop them, much less to report them to the authorities... Y City is so big, there are plenty of restaurants and eateries, isn't there anywhere else you could work as a waiter? Or is it..."

Zhang Qiliang leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a needle, fixing on the waiter's evasive eyes:

"...Can you honestly say that this is the first time you've ever seen them prepare food like this?"

The waiter opened his mouth, the words "This is the first time I've seen this" swirling in his throat, but he ultimately didn't dare to utter them.

Under the other party's all-seeing gaze, any sophistry or stubbornness would seem foolish and dangerous.

In the end, he could only deflate completely like a punctured balloon, his shoulders slumped, and his head hung even lower, which could be considered an admission of guilt.

“It’s okay if you don’t have money,” Zhang Qiliang said, not insisting on it. “Then tell me, how do you plan to make amends for this?”

"I...I..." The waiter racked his brains, sweating profusely.

I'm just a waiter, I can't see the order information, and I don't know which customers ate the "added ingredients" in the dishes. How can I apologize?

A refund is out of the question.

After stammering for a long time, the waiter couldn't utter a single word.

"Snapped!"

Another slap landed, causing the other half of his face to quickly swell and turn red, and his ears to ring.

“The streets nearby are dirty, and the trash cans are full. Can you go and sweep them up and clean them?” Zhang Qiliang asked.

"Snapped!"

The third slap was delivered without any mercy.

"When elementary school students are leaving, could you stand over there and help guide the children and their cars?"

"Snapped!"

The fourth slap followed immediately.

"If you see an elderly person with mobility issues carrying heavy objects, lend a hand; if you see a mother struggling to go up and down stairs with her child, help her; if you meet a stranger asking for directions, patiently point them in the right direction—these are things you can see all over the street. You have eyes and hands, can't you do them?"

"That's why I say you're despicable!" Zhang Qiliang delivered the fifth slap, the force just right to make him feel the pain but not to actually hurt him: "Who among those who come to eat here and order takeout from your place isn't a resident of the neighborhood? You have a brain, but you never use it to think of anything good?"

"I...I understand! I understand!" The waiter covered his face and replied repeatedly, his voice trembling with tears, "I'll...I'll go to the roadside tomorrow, and if I see anyone who needs help, I'll go, I promise..."

"tomorrow?"

"Now! Now! I'm going right now!" The waiter suddenly snapped to attention, turned around, and staggered out of the store, afraid that if he was even a second too slow, the terrible slap would fall again.

Outside the door was a dark street, with dim streetlights.

At this time, there are naturally no children leaving school who need guidance, and there are also no elderly people walking by or mothers carrying children.

But having a direction, the waiter wasn't completely stupid.

He looked around in a panic, his gaze settling on a convenience store that was still lit up a few dozen meters away.

He rushed over, and soon he had a plastic broom and a tin dustpan in his hands.

Under the light of the streetlights, the waiters began to clean the sidewalk in front of several shops near "Old Flavor".

First, there were cigarette butts and scraps of paper scattered in front of my own door, then dust on the steps of the hardware store next door, and then a few leaves drifting down outside the glass door of the barbershop...

After watching quietly for a while, Zhang Qiliang looked away and turned around.

As soon as I looked over, the seven or eight men at the table against the wall seemed to have been switched on, and they instantly sprang into action—some grabbed crumpled napkins from the table and stuffed them haphazardly into a plate already piled high with bone fragments; some picked up a glass of beer that was still more than half full and gulped it down, not even caring about coughing from the choking; others frantically cleared away the bowls and chopsticks in front of them, making a crisp clattering sound.

Zhang Qiliang smiled and said, "I'm sorry to have disturbed your enjoyment."

After saying that, Zhang Qiliang didn't linger and turned to open the shop door.

--------

Perhaps things have finally turned around, and the bad luck has dissipated. Or perhaps God, seeing how much trouble Y City has been going through these days, has finally taken pity on it.

For the next two days, Zhang Qiliang's food delivery went remarkably smoothly. He didn't encounter any more unpleasant customers or unscrupulous merchants. Even the platform's order dispatching seemed exceptionally intelligent, with routes that were remarkably smooth.

He delivered food steadily and methodically for two days, seemingly becoming part of the city's capillaries, and turning into an ordinary, busy delivery rider.

On the morning of the fourth day, Zhang Qiliang arrived at the station as usual.

As soon as I opened the office door, I found a tiny little one in the room.

A little boy, about eight or nine years old, dressed in a blue tracksuit, was sitting quietly on a plastic stool in the corner, with an exercise book open in front of him, a pencil in his hand, and his little face serious.

Next to the little guy, the blond-haired young man, Xiao Mao, was scratching his messy hair and sighing with a distressed look: "Xiao Bin, next month, next month your uncle will definitely take you, okay? Look, my phone was just repaired last week, and it cost a lot of money. If we don't hurry up and do more orders, we'll really starve next month."

The little boy named Xiaobin looked up, his face showing no resentment, but rather nodding understandingly: "I know, Uncle. You go ahead and do your work, I'll do my homework here and wait for you to come back tonight."

"Ming's here." Xiao Mao looked up and saw Zhang Qiliang, scratching his head a little embarrassedly, and explained, "This is my nephew, Xiao Bin. My sister's factory recently got a rush order, and she's been working overtime until midnight every day, so she can't take care of the kids on weekends. Last week I promised this little guy that I'd take him fishing by the river this weekend... Sigh, but lately I've been really unlucky, not many orders, and just a lot of trouble..."

"You're having a really bad day," Zhang Qiliang chuckled, walked up to Xiao Bin, squatted down, and looked him in the eye. He asked gently, "Xiao Bin, right? What do you think of your uncle? How about I take you fishing?"

Xiao Bin blinked his bright black eyes, curiously sizing up Zhang Qiliang, but didn't answer immediately.

Xiao Mao, standing nearby, was startled and quickly waved his hands, saying, "Oh, Ming-ge, this won't do! It's too much trouble for you! You've only been running around for a few days..."

“What’s wrong with that?” Zhang Qiliang stood up, patted Xiao Mao on the shoulder, “I’ve been running around for a few days, so I’m feeling a bit tired and want to rest and clear my head. Taking the kids for a walk by the water is more comfortable than just riding around all day.”

Although Zhang Qiliang had only been with the company for three or four days, Xiao Mao—in fact, all the riders at the station—had a strange trust in him.

Ming is calm and experienced in his work. He doesn't talk much, but every word he says is to the point. He is also generous. If someone's electric scooter runs out of power halfway, they forget to charge their phone, or they even have an emergency at home and want to switch shifts, he will often lend a hand without asking. He is very considerate of others.

Xiao Mao glanced at Zhang Qiliang, then at his nephew who was staring at him expectantly. After hesitating for a moment, he lowered his voice and asked, "Ming-ge, do you really want to rest? It's not just to help me take care of the kids, is it?"

"Yeah, I really want to take a break for half a day." Zhang Qiliang nodded, then turned to Xiaobin and asked with a smile, "Xiaobin, do you have a place you'd like to go fishing?"

The little boy's eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously: "Yes, yes! I know a good place, over in the western suburbs, there's an old river bend with very clear water. My uncle took me there before!"

Xiao Bin gave a rough location.

Zhang Qiliang went through the place in his mind and realized he did know it. It wasn't close; it would take about 30 to 40 minutes by electric scooter.

“Okay, let’s go there.” Zhang Qiliang made the decision.

"I left my fishing gear at home..." Xiao Mao scratched his head.

"Go do your work, this is none of your business." Zhang Qiliang pushed Xiao Mao out of the office.

More than half an hour later, at the old river bend in the western suburbs.

Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, the river is narrow and the current is gentle. The banks are lush with vegetation, and sunlight filters through the treetops, casting dappled shadows.

Xiao Bin followed closely behind Zhang Qiliang, his big eyes full of curiosity as he watched "Uncle Xiaoming" conjure up a complete set of equipment from the surrounding natural environment as if by magic.

No fishing rod? Zhang Qiliang walked along the riverbank for dozens of meters, selected a young bamboo branch of moderate thickness that was straight and flexible, pinched and snapped it at the base with his fingers, and with a crisp "snap", the bamboo branch broke off cleanly at the base, leaving a smooth cut.

After quickly removing excess branches and leaves, the basic shape of a natural fishing rod is formed.

No fishing line? There are many resilient wild vines climbing along the riverbank.

Zhang Qiliang tore off a long section of green vine, rubbed it between his fingers a few times, peeled off the outer skin to reveal the tough fiber core inside, and then twisted it into a long strand.

No fishing hook? That took a little longer.

Zhang Qiliang took a small metal ring from his keychain that he rarely used. With his fingertips, he slowly straightened the metal ring, which was less than one centimeter in diameter, and then cleverly bent an almost invisible, slightly inward-curving sharp hook at one end.

No float? Zhang Qiliang searched along the riverbank, picked up a small piece of dry white foam, and tied it with a vine line about a foot above the fishing hook.

No bait? That's the easiest way. Zhang Qiliang dug a few times in the damp mud on the bank, and several plump earthworms wriggled out.

Stools? There were a few large, flat stones by the river. Zhang Qiliang picked two that were close to the water and at a suitable height, cleaned off the moss, and they became ready-made seats.

Fish bucket? Zhang Qiliang picked a few huge wild taro leaves, stacked them together, and quickly folded them into a deep bowl-shaped temporary container. He secured it with thin vines, filled it with a little river water, and placed it at the feet of the two people.

“Alright, Xiaobin,” Zhang Qiliang handed the homemade fishing rod to the child, while he himself took another, simpler one—a long branch with vines and a hook tied to it—and sat down on a nearby rock. “Equipment ready, we can begin our fishing mission.”

Xiao Bin's face flushed with excitement as he carefully cast the fishhook with the earthworm on it into the river, mimicking Xiao Bin's actions.

The wait was long, but not boring at all.

Zhang Qiliang would point to the dragonflies skimming the water and tell Xiaobin what kind they were, he would quietly remind him to look for the wild ducks that suddenly peeked out from the reeds in the distance, and he would answer the little guy's tenth question about "when will the fish come to bite the hook," with great patience.

When the tip of Xiao Bin's homemade bamboo pole suddenly dipped downwards, and the child cried out in surprise, Zhang Qiliang promptly reached out to help him stabilize the pole and taught him how to lift the pole smoothly and slowly reel in the vine line.

A small, silvery-white fish, about the size of a palm, was pulled out of the water and thrashed about in the sunlight, its scales shimmering.

"I caught one! Uncle Xiaoming! I caught one!" Xiaobin's cheers echoed in the river bend, a pure and unparalleled joy.

In this lifetime, the happy times we have to look back on are truly few and far between.

That's far too little.

47. Sun Wukong

On the fourth day, everything went smoothly again.

The fifth day was still peaceful and serene.

"That's really strange," an older delivery rider next to me, who was also waiting at the red light, flicked his cigarette ash. "This week has been really unlucky. I've been a delivery rider for three years, and I've never gone five days in a row without encountering a weird customer."

Wu Qingchen looked at the traffic light that had turned green but didn't reply.

When we returned to the station for lunch, several riders gathered in the rest area, and the atmosphere was inexplicably harmonious.

"The customer was actually waiting downstairs for my order yesterday, which saved me the time of going upstairs."

"I gave it all five stars this week, not a single bad review."

“The push notifications are auspicious too,” Xiao Mao said, scrolling through his phone. “Look, I’ve been pushing out ‘Thankful for Life’ and ‘Little Joys’ compilations for three days in a row.”

Okay, okay, is this how you play it?

Zhang Qiliang knew exactly what was going on!

As mentioned earlier, Zhang Qiliang was previously a programmer, and his forte was data processing.

Zhang Qiliang took half an hour to write a small program himself.

It's not very useful. It just involves scraping various social media platforms and public service platforms, focusing on topics related to Y City, especially the area surrounding Zhang Qiliang's station, where people are most dissatisfied: Since this area is where Zhang Qiliang made a living, let's first fight for some benefits for the people here.

The data came out shortly afterward.

The number one trending question, with a significantly larger volume of data:

Subject: Traffic congestion, honking, and parking disputes on Xing'an Road outside Xing'anli residential area.

Related keywords: rush hour, traffic jams, honking horns, arguments about moving cars, minor accidents, being late, high blood pressure

Emotional tendencies: 92% complained, 7% sought help, and 1% had other feelings.

Recent flashpoint: On Monday morning, two car owners got into a physical altercation over moving their vehicles, prompting a police report.

Zhang Qiliang closed the page and put his phone in his pocket.

As they walked to the rest area, he patted Xiao Mao on the shoulder: "How were the orders this morning?"

"Not bad, Ming-ge. You're running away already?"

"Yeah, I got a long-distance order, going to take a trip to the west." Zhang Qiliang got on the bike and turned on the ignition.

The fact that it's ranked number one is truly impressive!

Upon arriving at the navigation location, Zhang Qiliang knelt down at just one glance.

Xing'an Road is shaped like a twisted "Y", and Xing'anli residential area is nestled in the lower right fork.

As the data shows, this is an old residential area built in the 1980s.

The six-story slab buildings are crammed together like damp biscuits, with peeling paint on the exterior walls and suffocatingly narrow spacing between them.

The so-called "internal roads of the community" are actually just gaps between buildings, barely wide enough for one person to push a bicycle through.