Republic of China era: Actor? Please call me Martial Arts Master!

Chapter 32 The "Roots" of Qingyun Class

Ah Bing was stunned.

He stretched out his withered hand, grasping haphazardly in the air, as if trying to catch a fleeting ray of light.

"That's...that's a window?"

Ah Bing's voice trembled, and tears streamed down his gray eyes.

Although it was just a blurry white light, with no clear outline, it was still very blurry.

But for him, who had been mired in darkness for twenty years, this was a miracle, this was the creation of the world!

"I see, I see the light."

"It's bright, it's warm..."

Ah Bing seemed to have gone mad, stumbling and trying to get off the kang (a heated brick bed), but he fell headfirst to the ground.

He didn't get up, but just knelt on the ground, facing Lu Cheng, and banged his head against the ground repeatedly.

"Master Lu!! You're like a second parent to me! You're like a second parent to me!!"

The heart-wrenching cries echoed throughout the large mansion.

Lu Cheng sat on the kang (a heated brick bed) watching this scene. Although he was exhausted, he finally felt relieved.

He picked up the tea that had long since gone cold and drank it all in one gulp.

This money was well spent.

That's it, they held firm.

Ah Bing's eyes have developed light perception; this can no longer be kept secret.

Or rather, Lu Cheng never intended to hide it at all.

The next morning, when Abing, instead of using his cane, carried his erhu and, though his steps were unsteady, accurately avoided the water vat in the courtyard, he went to the porch to bask in the sun.

The servants of the entire Lu residence were stunned.

The news spread like wildfire, shaking the entire Tianqiao area and even the entire Peking Opera world in Beiping within half a day.

Even Mr. Le from Tongrentang made a special trip to come for a follow-up consultation after hearing about it.

After taking his pulse, the old man stroked his beard and repeatedly expressed his amazement.

"A miracle, a true miracle."

"This is not only the effect of the medicine, but also the result of the internal martial arts master's use of true qi to nourish and warm the meridians day and night, breaking up the blood stasis and reshaping the meridians."

"Boss Lu, your 'Qi circulation' technique has reached the level of a grandmaster. It can not only kill, but also save lives!"

This sentence completely vindicated Lu Cheng.

All the gossip and rumors about him being a spendthrift and stupid disappeared overnight.

Instead, there is a deep sense of awe.

Being able to fight makes you a martial artist.

A person who can cure a blind person of twenty years is a "miracle worker".

More importantly, Lu Cheng was willing to go to such lengths for a violin teacher under his command.

This is loyalty, this is kindness!

In these times of war and chaos, human life is as cheap as grass.

Being able to work with such a capable, wealthy, and loyal boss is a blessing earned over many lifetimes.

As a result, in the days that followed, the threshold of the Lu family mansion was quickly worn down by people walking all over it.

Some came to become disciples, some came to seek refuge, and some even brought their entire fortune to "register" for protection.

In the main hall.

Lu Cheng sat upright in the armchair, his brows slightly furrowed.

Zhou Daikui stood to the side, holding a thick stack of bright red visiting cards, his forehead covered in sweat from worry.

"Chengzi, this is the fifth batch already."

Zhou Daikui put the invitation on the table and said with a wry smile:

"This morning alone, more than thirty people wanted to send their children to class. There's also that young head镖师 (bodyguard/escort) from the 'Yan Zhao Escort Agency' who insisted on becoming your apprentice, saying he'd even be willing to be your tea-serving disciple."

"Our yard is big, but if we take them all in, just feeding them will be a big problem."

Although Zhou Daikui is now financially well-off, he still retains his small-farmer mentality and is afraid of running out of money.

Lu Cheng thought for a moment, looking at the stack of visiting cards.

"Master, if the Peking Opera industry wants to thrive in the long run, it can't rely on me alone; that's like a tree without roots."

"We need someone."

"We need to have our own trained professionals who know the ins and outs of the field."

In the old society, all the famous troupes had their own training programs. For example, Fu Lian Cheng and Rong Chun She trained their students from a young age, signing life-or-death contracts, meaning they were not allowed to run away after being beaten. Only in this way could they develop real skills.

"receive."

Lu Cheng uttered a single word.

"However, we cannot collect indiscriminately."

"Those slick guys who come to apprentice with pre-existing skills are all full of tricks and schemes. They haven't learned any real skills, but they've brought their江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and江湖义气, a code of honor among江湖江湖人士) habits with them. We don't want any of those kinds of people."

"We only accept children with clean backgrounds, who can endure hardship, and whose lives are still developing."

"Teach us from a blank sheet of paper; whatever color you dye it, that's the color it will be."

Lu Cheng stood up, walked to the door, and looked at Shunzi and Xiaodouzi practicing martial arts in the yard.

These two children are quite impressive now; Shunzi's gun is held firmly, and Xiaodouzi's somersaults are light.

But this is not enough.

"We need to set some rules."

Lu Cheng turned around and said to Zhou Daikui.

"I won't teach you how to sing, recite, act, and fight; that's your job. Go and hire the best opera teacher."

"I only teach you how to be a person, how to have skills, and how to survive and kill enemies."

"I want to show the whole city of Beijing that the kids from our Qingyun Class are stars on stage, but off stage... they're wolves!"

……

If you want to find good seedlings, you can't look for them in wealthy families.

Rich kids can't endure that kind of hardship or suffering.

You have to go to places where you can't survive, and find those ruthless people who would grit their teeth and swallow their pride to stay alive.

Overpass, market.

This was the most prosperous and also the dirtiest place in Beiping.

On one side were street performers, storytellers, and magicians, creating a lively and bustling scene.

At the base of the other wall, rows of emaciated people were squatting.

In recent years, there have been famines and warlord conflicts, resulting in a large number of people fleeing from Henan and Shandong.

Selling children is commonplace here.

They stick a straw tag in their hair and wait for buyers to come and choose.

That truly meant life was as worthless as grass.

In the afternoon, the wind was biting cold.

Lu Cheng, accompanied by Shunzi, walked slowly through the crowd, dressed in a simple blue cotton robe.

Shunzi felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the children shivering from the cold.

"Master Cheng, these people... are so pitiful."

"Pitiful?"

Lu Cheng remained expressionless.

"In this world, being pitiful is the most useless thing. If you don't want to be pitiful, you have to become strong."

As he walked, he used the eyes of a martial arts practitioner to "read faces".

"This won't do; his eyes are unfocused and he lacks focus."

"This one won't do either; the bones are too soft, and the posture is terrible."

"This... his body is too weak, he has congenital deficiencies, practicing martial arts would ruin him."

As he walked along, he saw dozens of children, but not one of them caught Lu Cheng's eye.

Until we reached the very corner, right under a wall.

There was a boy who looked to be about ten years old squatting there.

His clothes were tattered, and the cattail fluff peeking out from under his tattered cotton-padded jacket had turned black.

His face was covered in frostbite and filth, making it impossible to see his features.

But this boy was different from others.

Everyone else was begging, crying, and looking at passersby with those pitiful eyes.

He did not.

He was tightly protecting half of a filthy, unrecognizable steamed bun in his arms.

There were two homeless men next to him, each a head taller than him, who seemed to be trying to snatch the food from his hand.

"You little brat, let go, that's Grandpa's territory."

A homeless man kicked the boy in the shoulder.

The boy stumbled from the kick, but clutched the steamed bun in his arms even tighter.

He suddenly raised his head.

At that moment, Lu Cheng stopped in his tracks.

What kind of eyes were those?

There was no fear, no pleading, only a fierce, desperate glint, like that of a wolf cub.