Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

"Nothing special... He said Yunshan is very nice." With so many people coming, the usually high-ranking officials could only sit at the very back. The girl was a little flustered, but more than that, she was confused.

"Oh, oh..." The person of high status let out a long sigh of relief.

"He also said..." Seeing the big boss so happy, the girl relaxed: "I'll come often when I have time."

64 Good stuff

"Target has reached Yingtian City."

"The target ate a bowl of noodles."

"I ran into Wang Debo in XX residential area."

"Wang Debo accidentally fell, resulting in multiple contusions to hard tissues."

"The target has arrived at Yingtian Railway Station again."

"Target... Bought a ticket for train Kxx, destination: Yunshan City!!!"

The command center erupted in cheers.

"The target is waiting for the car."

"As required by higher authorities, Yunshan City has been notified."

"The train departs."

"Yunshan City has made the following arrangements: 1...2...3...4...A...B...C...D..."

"Destination: Yunshan City Railway Station"

"The target...the target bought seven souvenirs at a shop near the train station!"

The atmosphere in the command center became tense again.

"The target...the destination is XX Road, south of the train station, where I...purchased a set of fishing gear!"

Beside the commander, the middle-aged man's face was clouded with gloom.

"The target has returned to Yunshan City Railway Station."

"Target: Purchased train Kxx... final destination... final destination... Y City..."

……

Time and space are truly wondrous.

"Fuck your mother!" Almost at the same time as the prefect of Yunshan City displayed his skills, the middle-aged man, with a strikingly similar posture and angle, kicked the chair next to him away: "What's so great about Y City anyway! Poor infrastructure, low quality, terrible air, and it's not even your home! What is it that attracts you? Can't we just change it?!"

The staff nearby were working intently, typing and deleting a certain word repeatedly.

After catching his breath for a full two minutes, the middle-aged man finally calmed down.

"Notify the traffic management, railway police, and station front management office that traffic control and order management will be implemented immediately within a three-kilometer radius of the railway station. All illegal vehicles, unauthorized stalls, homeless beggars, noise pollution... anything that may cause disputes, chaos, or gatherings must be completely eliminated by 8:00 AM tomorrow... no, by 6:00 AM tomorrow."

"Notify relevant departments such as market supervision, urban management, environmental protection, and emergency management to conduct a high-intensity, comprehensive joint inspection and rectification campaign targeting the areas around the train station, along major traffic arteries, areas frequently visited by the target, and... commercial streets and restaurant clusters that may be of interest. The only requirements are: 'clean' and 'quiet.' There must be no disputes, no complaints, and especially no disorderly conduct."

"Notify all streets and communities to activate the full-scale patrol mechanism of grassroots grid workers. Focus on old residential areas, areas with concentrated rental housing, and back streets and alleys. For any potential problems such as neighborhood disputes, property conflicts, illegal dog ownership, noise construction, etc., intervene in advance and do everything possible to resolve them. If they cannot be resolved... ensure absolute stability during the time when the target may occur."

"notify……"

"notify……"

"notify……"

Several trusted clerks quickly carried out the order, their livers trembling as they made phone calls.

Finally, after discussing an "emergency support" project involving road renovations, street lighting, and the hiring and subsidies of a large number of temporary workers, a veteran clerk who had followed the middle-aged man for many years, taking advantage of the brief moment between handing over the signature board, leaned forward slightly and said in a whisper that could only be heard by the two of them, "Boss, at this rate of spending... our emergency fund will be depleted in at most half a month, and many subsequent fixed expenses will likely be..."

"Let's hold on for as long as we can," the middle-aged man said, taking the pen and quickly signing his name on the document. He knew perfectly well that this was a short-sighted solution, but what else could he do?

"If you don't spend it now, it'll be too late for me to spend it later..."

So I continued spending the money.

"notify……"

"notify……"

"notify……"

The notifications are finally finished.

Finally, another trusted clerk standing behind the middle-aged man glanced at the Yunshan City deployment plan in his hand, then at the emergency response he had just recorded. After hesitating for a moment, he lowered his voice and reminded him, "Boss, what about the food delivery stations... shouldn't we also consider filling the gaps in advance?"

"Fuck your mother!" The middle-aged man turned around, his eyes flashing with a murderous glint, ready to devour anyone in his path: "Cutting off someone's livelihood is like killing their parents! The target spent almost 5000 this week, and he can't even afford to add an egg to his bowl of noodles!"

--------

Around 9:30 a.m., in Y City.

Zhang Qiliang walked out of the train station, scanned a shared bicycle, and headed straight for the station.

It was rush hour, and the station was deserted.

"Xiao Ming's back," Station Master Li looked up from the forms and nodded to Zhang Qiliang. "Did you take care of things at home?"

"Okay, all done." Zhang Qiliang parked the car and went into the back room to change into his work clothes.

"Okay, let's go online. There are quite a few orders."

I opened the order-taking app, and the system quickly assigned me an order for breakfast from a nearby business district.

Zhang Qiliang set off nimbly, picking up and delivering meals, reintegrating into the city's most fundamental pulse.

The sunlight gradually grew warmer, shining on my arms.

After delivering a few orders, I was waiting at the entrance of an old residential area. The window of the guardhouse was open, and the intermittent chatter of two old men drifted out.

"...It's been much more efficient. In just the last two days, those 'sewage clearing' ads that are plastered everywhere have disappeared by more than half."

"The patrols seem to be more frequent now? I think I saw someone wearing a reflective vest loitering around the other end of the alley this morning..."

"Who knows? Maybe they're going to conduct inspections again, in waves."

Zhang Qiliang's gaze swept across the outer wall of the community. The area that used to be covered with mottled, colorful advertisements was indeed cleaner. The trash cans on the street were also properly covered, and there was no litter scattered around.

Passing by a street corner where several tricycles usually gather, today it was deserted, with only some stains and watermarks left on the ground from being repeatedly run over by the wheels.

Several people in uniforms were chatting under the shade of a tree not far away, their eyes occasionally glancing at the road.

Around 10 a.m., when I went to pick up my food from my usual fast food restaurant, the owner was packing it up quickly while casually complaining to her assistant: "...Clean up behind the stove too. What kind of bullshit hazard inspection is this? I think they just want to make money again..."

At 10:30, Zhang Qiliang returned to the station.

The morning rush hour has finally come to an end, and the station is bustling again.

Several riders who had just returned were crowding in front of the charging station to change their batteries, the air thick with the smell of sweat and the heat brought in from outside.

Zhang Qiliang parked his car, went into the inner room, and opened his personal locker.

Holding the paper bag, Zhang Qiliang walked to Station Chief Li's desk, who was checking data. He took out a small stone tablet wrapped in kraft paper from the bag and handed it to him: "Station Chief, there's nothing good back home, so I brought a stone along for peace of mind."

Station Master Li was somewhat surprised. He took the stone tablet, touched it, and saw the two characters "Peace" engraved on it. A smile appeared on his face: "Oh, you still thought of this. Thanks, Xiaoming! You must have had a hard journey."

Zhang Qiliang then found Old Zhao, who was checking tires in the corner, and handed him a small stone monkey, saying, "Brother Zhao, this is for your grandson, take it and play with it."

Old Zhao rubbed his hands together, took the monkey, and looked at it. The little monkey was clumsy and silly, and Old Zhao grinned: "This monkey is quite spirited! Thanks, brother!"

Next up was Huang Mao, who was smoking a cigarette and scrolling through his phone.

Zhang Qiliang handed him the last small stone fish: "Yours."

After saying that, Zhang Qiliang pointed to a long bag containing fishing rods and accessories placed in the corner of the inner room, "There's also a set of fishing gear for your nephew."

Xiao Mao was stunned for a moment, looking at the stone fish in his hand, then at the fishing gear, and almost dropped his cigarette: "Damn... Brother Ming, this... this is too much of a waste, isn't it? That kid just said it casually..."

“I just happened to come across it and bought it on the spur of the moment,” Zhang Qiliang interrupted him. “Remember to bring it back later.”

Several riders who hadn't received any started to jeer.

"Great job, Xiaoming! You became a purchasing agent just by going back to your hometown!"

"Favoritism! Utter favoritism! We don't get any, do we?"

"Everyone who sees it should get a share, Ming! We can't favor one over the other!"

Zhang Qiliang smiled, took out a pack of red-cased cigarettes from his pocket, and flicked one to each of them.

"Don't blame me. When I first arrived, I didn't see any of you guys, so I couldn't register you in the system in time! Have a smoke, have a smoke."

The group chuckled as they accepted the cigarettes.

Smoking, puffing out cigarettes, the small station is filled with smoke, mixed with jokes and complaints about a hard-to-find neighborhood and a customer with peculiar demands.

Zhang Qiliang found a stool, sat down in a well-ventilated spot by the window, and stretched.

After finishing their cigarettes, the riders left one after another. Some went to continue taking odd jobs, some went to buy groceries, and some went straight home to take a nap. Xiao Mao was even more decisive, excitedly taking his fishing gear to find his little nephew.

As the smoke thinned, only Zhang Qiliang and Lao Zhao remained.

Old Zhao shifted on the old sofa, trying to find a position that wouldn't hurt his back, and hissed in relief.

"What's wrong?" Zhang Qiliang took out a cigarette and offered one to Lao Zhao.

“My old buddy reminded me,” Old Zhao lit his cigarette and squinted. “The winter before last, the ground was so slippery it was like it was greased. I was picking up a fare for the sixth floor, and I was running too fast. I missed a step at the top of the stairs and fell flat on my back, hitting the edge of the step. Goodness, I saw stars and it took me a while to catch my breath.”

"Probably not," Zhang Qiliang shook his head. "How long have you been raising them?"

"I lay in bed for half a month, not daring to stay in bed for too long, because my family is waiting for rice to be cooked." Old Zhao smiled bitterly. "Later, I settled down here. I can tell when it's going to be cloudy or rainy in advance, and sitting for too long makes me stiff. Even bending over to move a heavy box requires slow movements."

"Then why run?"

"What can we do if we don't run?"

"At least get some rest..."

“I can’t rest,” Old Zhao sighed. “Ten or so hours a day is common. Actually, when you think about it, windy and rainy days, scorching sun that makes your skin peel, and snowy and icy winter days that make you slippery—these are the good days. People order takeout a lot, and the platform sometimes gives them a little extra. It’s just that people suffer. They get soaked in rain and sweat, and in winter they fall and their butts are so sore they’re practically numb.”

As he spoke, a look of longing even flashed across his face, as if he were calculating a profitable deal.

"Health is still very important." After a few seconds of silence, Zhang Qiliang slowly took out his cigarette case and lit one.

"Who doesn't know? Actually, it wasn't so bad before..." Old Zhao recalled, "Back then, things were good, we had plenty of time, and we weren't worried when we were running around. Now, I don't know how it's calculated, the more you run, the weirder the orders they give you. Either they're hard to find in some remote corner, or the time is so tight that you have to run to the toilet. As soon as you finish one delivery, the countdown for the next one starts blaring like a death knell."

"Platform algorithm".

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t understand it,” Old Zhao clicked his tongue in confusion. “Anyway, it’s like… I used to work six or seven hours a day, now I work ten or more hours, and I haven’t made any more money. Tsk, I don’t know which clever guy came up with this scheme.”

“Algorithms are all about scheming against people,” Zhang Qiliang flicked his cigarette ash. “Take it easy, just think of it as exercise. Look at your age, you can still climb dozens of floors a day, much better than the old men strolling in the park.”

"Get lost!" Old Zhao was amused by his statement and laughed, "I'm risking my life for money, how can that be the same as taking a stroll?"

“I think so too,” Zhang Qiliang said, standing up and walking towards the door. As he passed the sofa, he patted Old Zhao on the shoulder: “Look at your physique, you’re really strong!”

"It's really no good anymore, I had to change it earlier..." Old Zhao's voice grew softer and softer, and by the seventh word, his eyes were filled with a dazed look.

A few seconds later, Zhang Qiliang removed his right hand from Lao Zhao's shoulder.

"...These past few years, such a minor ailment, why would I need to rest? Hey, I might not even fall down!"

Old Zhao became more and more energetic as he spoke, and his voice was visibly much louder than before.

“Right,” Zhang Qiliang said, turning around at the station entrance, “I told you you’re still going strong… I’m leaving.”

Xiao Ming got on his electric scooter, turned the key, and left.

In the lounge, Old Zhao sat alone, his palm still pressed against that familiar spot on his lower back that always ached slightly.

He subconsciously rubbed it, then pressed it harder—huh?

"How come the pain stopped all of a sudden?"

What's even stranger is what's in my heart.

All those things I just rambled on about—the blinding cold of raindrops soaking my neck in a torrential downpour; the stinging sweat from inside my helmet stinging my skin under the scorching midday sun; the heart-pounding fear on icy roads in winter when the wheels slipped…

These images are still vivid in my mind, clear as day, with every detail still clear in my memory.

But when they resurface, the heavy, oppressive feeling, lingering fear, and dread that clung to them, along with the accumulated, bone-deep fatigue, are silently absorbed as if by a huge, soft sponge.

The memories are still the same memories, and in fact, because the pain has been removed, they present an objective clarity.

Old Zhao can still recall the force of the raindrops hitting his face, the burning sensation of his sunburned skin, and the weightlessness he felt just before he fell.

But that's all.

The weight of life and the hardships of survival, those specific and subtle traces are still clearly visible on my body.