The Beggar’s Staff of Old Ba Chapter 1

The Beggar’s Staff of Old Ba

Chapter One

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Outside the bustling teahouse, a hunchbacked beggar sat with one leg bent against the steps. His clothes, faded beyond recognition, hung loosely on his frame, revealing limbs so thin their bones were visible. His hair hung in tangled strands, revealing only one cloudy eye that gazed vacantly and bewildered at the bustling street.

 

Inside the teahouse, several regular patrons sat around a table, chatting animatedly.

 

“Didn’t that mountain collapse a few days ago? Heard it was the patriarchs of the Wuji Immortal Sect and the Divine Sword Sect sparring nearby—they accidentally split open an ancient tomb.”

 

“Nonsense. I heard a murderer from the Yuanling Realm escaped to these parts. The Immortal Masters of the Wuji Immortal Sect hunted down the demon beast, deploying a great demon-subduing formation.”

 

“What I heard is that the Wuji Immortal Sect, the Divine Sword Sect, the Xiaoyao Sect, and even demon gods from the Yuanling Realm mobilized to capture this beast. Cunning as it was, it burrowed into an ancient ruin. It took the combined might of the Immortal Masters to force it out. Though the sects suffered heavy losses, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. That ancient ruin was filled with spiritual treasures, and the major sects gained quite a fortune.”

 

“So that tremendous commotion I heard a few days ago was them battling the demon beast? That’s incredible! It felt like the sky was falling…”

 

“Ah Heng, why are you still spacing out? Hurry up and go begging! Or you won’t have dinner tonight!” An elderly beggar shuffled down the street from the far end, his back hunched over, breathing so heavily you could hear it three meters away.

 

“Old Wen…” The young beggar named Ah Heng called out to him, “I…”

 

“Ah… you again, too proud to beg?” Old Wen slowly approached Ah Heng, then stepped past him into the teahouse. “Let me handle the begging. Look at you… Doggie (Gou Zi) will start barking again soon.”

 

“Gentlemen, please have mercy…” Old Wen approached the group of men engaged in loud conversation. They shot him disgusted looks: “Go on, go! Why is it always you?! Get lost, or we’ll beat you!”

 

Old Wen made the rounds, but didn’t get even a single peanut. He sighed heavily, shakily stepped over the teahouse threshold, and sat down beside Ah Heng.

 

“Those inside are all tightwads. Why did you come here to beg? Remember how I taught you to beg last time?” Old Wen poked Ah Heng’s forehead with his finger. It was unusually hard, and he felt a twinge of pain in his own finger.

 

“Never mind. Let’s try our luck. I’ll give it a shout…”

 

Old Wen began wailing “Aiyo, aiyo!” while moaning hoarsely and extending his withered hand toward passersby at the teahouse entrance: “Have mercy… give me something to eat… sir… spare some food…”

 

A basin of filthy water splashed out from inside: “Get lost, you stinking beggar!”

 

Ah Heng was drenched from head to toe in filthy water. Rotten vegetable scraps clung to his hair, droplets dangling from the dark strands across his forehead. Sewage poured down his collar, trickled from his cuffs, and washed brown streaks across his dark, sallow skin.

 

He looked down helplessly at his soaked clothes, seemingly bewildered by his sudden drenched state. As he shifted, a rotten vegetable leaf plopped onto his thigh. He picked it up with his filthy hand, examined it closely for a moment, then tossed it onto the steps.

 

Ah Heng, however, was an optimist. He simply shifted his hips and moved his entire body over to a drier spot beside him.

 

“Begging isn’t something you can just stick out your hand and get,” Old Wen said, rising unsteadily. “Let’s go. Don’t stay here any longer. If we linger, we might get beaten.”

 

Old Wen rose, leaning on his earth-colored branch. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a flickering candle in the wind—a gust could easily carry this frail old man away. Ah Heng seemed a bit slower to react; even after Old Wen stood up, he sat there dumbly.

 

“Damn filthy beggar! Are you leaving or not?!” Another basin of filthy water was hurled from inside the teahouse, landing squarely on Ah Heng’s head. “You’ve been sitting at my door since dawn! You’re nothing but bad luck! Get out! Get out! Get out!”

 

Filthy water dripped from Ah Heng’s body. Blinking, he looked at Old Wen, who was calling out guiltily, “Old Wen…”

 

Old Wen had been around Xiaoyan (Small Cliff or Rock Town) Town for years. He rarely lost his temper, but today he was furious. Seeing Ah Heng looking so pitiful only fueled his rage. His aged face flushed crimson, and two blue veins bulged on his stiff neck.

 

“Damn you all to hell! You won’t even leave a poor fool alone! Have some conscience! If you won’t give him food, fine—but he’s just sitting at your doorstep, and you go and splash him with two buckets of filthy water! You wouldn’t treat a dog like this!” His voice was hoarse, and his hunched back straightened with fury.

 

Old Wen stood at the teahouse entrance, cursing hoarsely. The teahouse owner rolled up his sleeves and stormed out. He delivered a flying kick to Ah Heng’s back. In the teahouse owner’s mind, even a burly man would be sent flying onto the street by that kick.

 

But it was the teahouse owner who fell.

 

The owner’s foot slammed into Ah Heng’s back like striking a boulder. He felt like an egg smashing against stone.

 

“Ow—!” The owner collapsed in front of his teahouse, clutching his ankle and moaning. “Ow, my foot… it’s broken!”

 

“Ah Heng, hurry up! What are you standing there for?!” Old Wen hurriedly reached out to tug at Ah Heng.

 

Ah Heng finally moved. He staggered to his feet, leaning on his pitch-black begging stick, then took a few unsteady steps. His body was incredibly stiff; walking felt like his entire frame was taut, his posture oddly awkward.

 

Ah Heng resembled a walking skeleton, as if his left and right legs refused to obey him and might collide at any moment. Were it not for the begging stick supporting him, he would likely have collapsed on the spot.

 

The teahouse owner still clutched his foot, moaning, yet he didn’t forget to call out to his assistants to catch the instigator: ” Catch him! Ouch…”

 

But a customer who had witnessed the entire incident stepped forward to speak up: “Mr. Li, you started it. That beggar didn’t even fight back. You tripped over yourself—don’t blame him.”

 

“Exactly! He’s just a poor beggar. Look how unsteady he is on his feet—maybe he’s got some kind of ailment. Even if you catch him, he won’t have money to pay for your medicine. It’s pointless to chase him.”

 

“Exactly, exactly.”

 

With the tea house patrons’ persuasion, the owner had no choice but to accept his loss. His face twisted in pain as the staff helped him up: “Bad luck! I knew something was off—my eyelid kept twitching today. Turns out it was this. Fine, fine, I’ll take the fall! Ouch…”

 

While the teahouse owner was being surrounded by patrons, Old Wen and Ah Heng had already vanished from sight.

 

“See? We almost got beaten up,” Old Wen said, still shaken, as he led Ah Heng into the alley diagonally across the street. He peeked cautiously toward the teahouse and saw the owner being helped inside by his assistant.

 

Is this matter settled then? However…

 

Old Wen turned to look at Ah Heng, who stood beside him, soaking wet. Crouching there, he hadn’t noticed, but once he stood up, Old Wen realized just how tall Ah Heng really was. If not for his sallow complexion and sluggish movements, he’d be quite a dashing young man. His brown eyes fixed on Old Wen without blinking, filled with bewilderment and an unconscious, helpless dependence.

 

Old Wen’s heart melted at that look.

 

“Come on, let’s go home. Gouzi must be back by now. You, you can’t even beg properly. What are we going to do with you?” Old Wen walked ahead, his steps heavy with melancholy. Ah Heng kept his head down, clutching his begging staff silently.

 

He hated begging. Every time he saw the disgust in people’s eyes, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back underground.

 

If only he’d known it would be like this, he never would have emerged from the earth in the first place.

 

Pressing his lips together, Ah Heng followed Old Wen dejectedly as they walked toward the outskirts of Xiaoyan Town.

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Author has something to say:

 

Reader’s Guide:

 

1. This is a long, slow-paced story with a heavy tone—not as warm and cute as Golden Crow. [Writing this nearly made me question my existence.]

 

2. While the Master does play dumb to catch the tiger, he was genuinely weak at the start. Give him time and space to grow.

 

3. Taoist authors have fiery tempers. If you insult me… I’ll just ignore you. [Essentially a coward.]

 

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