Chapter Fifteen: The Prosperity of Lu Zhen

On this day, the Black Bandit once again ventured into Lü Town—not to sell goods, nor to watch the dragon boat races, but to seek out the young women there. It was unclear why, but the ladies of Lü Town were truly captivating: their bosoms full and round, their hearts tender and affectionate—just to the Black Bandit’s liking.

He wandered through Lü Town that day, weaving among the young women, admiring their smiles and listening to their melodious songs. This was a pleasure to the Black Bandit indeed. Shameless as he was, upon seeing a certain young woman, he carelessly stripped off his trousers, startling her greatly. Yet, she dared not resist; instead, she led him into a darkened room. What followed need not be detailed here.

Afterward, the Black Bandit meandered through Lü Town, hurling curses at passersby or singing crude, lewd songs. Yet the townsfolk, though offended, dared not confront him. For one, he was broad-shouldered and sturdy; if a fight erupted, it was uncertain who would suffer loss or gain advantage—better to steer clear.

At the far end of the street, he encountered Shaoqiu, who was selling her sweet potatoes. Though customers were few, she sold with unwavering enthusiasm. Upon seeing the Black Bandit, Shaoqiu was fearful but dared not flee—where could she run in this place? She greeted him politely, but he ignored her, stepping before her.

“Please, have some sweet potato. It’s truly delicious, please take some,” Shaoqiu said with a bright smile.

“I’ll eat your mother’s ass! Eat? What kind of nonsense is this—me, eating?” the Black Bandit roared.

Terrified, Shaoqiu fell silent. In Lü Town, who dared offend the Black Bandit? She simply bowed her head, pretending not to hear.

“Farewell. I won’t see you off,” she muttered, lowering her gaze and returning to her modest trade.

Nearby, a beautiful girl caught sight of the Black Bandit and, seeing him as a manly figure, smiled at him. The Black Bandit, disregarding all propriety, approached and groped her, causing her to blush deeply amid the crowd, clearly shy and embarrassed.

The girl slapped the Black Bandit hard across the face. He dared not retort, clutching his ear and slipping away quietly.

Hungry and penniless, the Black Bandit entered a tavern. The owner greeted him warmly; the smiles of the serving girls, the polite words of the waiters, and the aroma of stewed dog meat made the Black Bandit’s mouth water. He sat in a corner, ordering dishes he liked—two pounds of dog meat, half a pound of wine, and side dishes like sour radish and sweet-and-sour cucumber—while plotting how to escape after eating.

He devoured the meal like a whirlwind, then stretched and dusted himself off, preparing to leave. Yet he suddenly remembered he had no money and fretted over how to explain this to the owner—eating without paying was unacceptable anywhere.

As he tried to sneak out the door, a voice shouted, and the Black Bandit grew fearful. He knew he was in the wrong and that the owner had every right to beat him if he caught him. Panic-stricken, the Black Bandit fled down the street, leaving a trail of screams in his wake. Passersby were knocked over, some unable to rise. Behind him, a group of young men wielding short knives glinted ominously in the light, sending chills down his spine.

“This is the end of the line for me,” he thought, pushing through the crowd like a dark cloud.

He dashed past Shaoqiu’s sweet potato stall. Seeing him in such a state, Shaoqiu felt pity—they were from the same village, after all.

“Hurry, take off your clothes and give them to me, or I’m finished,” the Black Bandit demanded with unwavering authority.

Shaoqiu had no choice but to comply, exchanging garments with him. The Black Bandit’s clothes were too small for Shaoqiu, and the Black Bandit’s new clothes were ill-fitting, but he wore them and fled. Shaoqiu remained bewildered, unaware of the true situation. Had she known, she would never have exchanged clothes with him.

The young men seized Shaoqiu and brought her before the tavern owner. But the owner, seeing she was not the one who dined without paying, ordered her release. Shaoqiu sighed in relief and returned to her stall, only to find her sweet potatoes gone—likely scattered by the wind.

Feeling the Black Bandit’s jacket, Shaoqiu discovered a wallet in the pocket. Opening it, she was stunned to find a considerable sum of money inside. Yet she refused to keep it, determined to return it to its rightful owner.

Shaoqiu then went to sit by the Lü Town dock, watching the passersby with a solemn expression, a sense of foreboding gnawing at her heart though she could not discern its source. As dusk approached, people gathered inside the boat’s cabin, sharing various jokes. Shaoqiu, however, remained uninterested, staring at the setting sun over Lü Town’s quay, lamenting how swiftly life passed and how little she had accomplished.

At that moment, a flock of crows flew overhead, their mournful cries hard to bear. A dark cloud rolled in, shifting shape like a sharp blade, then a ghostly face, frightening Shaoqiu so that she dared not look directly at it in broad daylight.

Meanwhile, a dog barked incessantly at the boat owner, who shouted curses in reply. Despite this, the dog would not relent, barking as if to leap and bite. In anger, the boat owner hurled a broken brick, killing the dog outright—otherwise, the noise would have disturbed everyone’s peace.

Lü Town remained tranquil; the sky cleared of clouds, the setting sun glowing brilliantly, casting its light upon faces and invigorating the spirit. A fierce wind howled, whipping up sand and stones; the sun flickered dimly, and the world descended into chaos, with no distinction of east, west, south, or north.

Then, all was still—the sky pure and spotless, too pristine to behold for fear of sullying its beauty. A cloud drifted down, landing beside the boat before sinking beneath the water, vanishing without a trace.

At that moment, a simpleton wept bitterly by the boat, his sorrowful cries stirring others aboard to tears. The boat owner, recalling his long-departed mother, wept openly alongside them, his grief no less profound.

More ominously, the simpleton sang dirges on the riverbank, chanting and even setting off firecrackers. The passengers dismissed his acts as mere folly, unaware of any deeper meaning.

The sun was about to set beyond the western hills, now desolate of farmers and laborers. One by one, people descended the mountain, retreating to their dilapidated homes to share drinks, songs, and dances with their wives.

The boat pushed off from the shore, carrying both hope and sorrow on its journey home.

Lü Town grew silent. The daytime bustle faded as lights flickered on; after a day’s joy and toil, people quietly ate their meals or, like Shaoqiu, thought of their loved ones.

The boat drifted farther and farther away.