Madman!

Chapter 17: Clothes Make the Man

That afternoon, after leaving the martial arts school, Chen Wujun made his way to a small convenience shop nearby. He fished a slip of paper from his pocket and dialed the number written on it.

"Who's this?" The voice on the other end belonged to a man brimming with vigor.

"Brother Ji Xiang, it's Jun-zai!"

"Jun-zai! Come to the finance company. You don't know where it is, do you? Head to Lianghe Building, fourth floor! There's a big sign hanging right there, you can't miss it."

Chen Wujun hung up and headed straight for Lianghe Building. It sat on the western stretch of Lung Tsun Road, surrounded by small workshops — home-run operations that churned out rulers, plungers, drain plugs, and other odds and ends. Miscellaneous goods were piled everywhere, and people constantly wheeled small carts in and out.

He found Lianghe Building easily enough. Sure enough, a sign hung from the fourth floor: "Jindi Finance."

When he reached the fourth floor, he found a long corridor. One of the doors was glass. He pushed it open and stepped into a haze of cigarette smoke. Five or six men lounged on sofas puffing away or shouted into phones at the top of their lungs.

"Listen here — I'm giving you three more days. You don't pay up, I'll have you shipped off to work the streets!"

"Hey, Niu Zhao! It's payday, pal. You really gonna make me come to your door?!"

Ji Xiang sat behind a desk near the back."Brother Ji Xiang."

"Jun-zai's here!" Ji Xiang's face broke into a grin immediately. He waved Chen Wujun over, then hollered at the rest of the room, "Hey — take a good look! This is Jun-zai!"

"He's with Sister Shark Jiu!"

The others turned to size up Chen Wujun. Young, they noted — but his bearing was solid, his eyes sharp.

One by one, they greeted him: "Hey, Jun!"

Running with Shark Jiu versus running with Ji Xiang — the difference in status was night and day.

Still, Chen Wujun was awfully young, and he'd only just joined Shark Jiu's crew.

Chen Wujun took a seat across from Ji Xiang. Ji Xiang pulled open a desk drawer, produced a thick stack of cash, then set a flip phone on the desk and slid both across.

"Can't reach you without a phone — that's no good. The phone costs eight thousand. We'll deduct it from your monthly pay."

"72239168 — 'sure path to fortune'! I had someone pick the number out specially for you."

"This here's an advance of eight thousand. We won't deduct anything this time — you've got a lot of expenses right now. Go get yourself a couple outfits."

"The way you're dressed now, you look like a schoolboy. During the day it doesn't matter much, but when you're out handling business with Sister Shark Jiu, that won't fly."

Chen Wujun picked up the phone, turning it over in his hands with genuine curiosity.

Inside was a tiny green screen and a numeric keypad. The flip cover housed the earpiece.

The phone was actually quite compact.

And yet this little thing cost eight thousand dollars. Even his old man didn't own one.

He'd snatched one off someone a while back, but he never dared use it. He'd smashed it and tossed the pieces into a gutter.

"Nothing going on today, so go get yourself sorted with some clothes first. I'll call you tonight."

"Want me to have someone show you around?"

"I'll manage on my own. Brother Ji Xiang — do you know anywhere with rooms for rent?" After pocketing the phone, Chen Wujun chatted casually for a few more minutes before taking his leave.

The moment Chen Wujun was out the door, someone piped up: "Brother Ji Xiang, what does Sister Shark Jiu even see in that kid? Don't tell me she's got a thing for him?"

"Some brat, running with Sister Shark Jiu?"

"If Sister Shark Jiu heard that, she'd skin you alive. Don't say I didn't warn you — the kid's got solid backing. Don't go picking fights with him for no reason."

"That impressive? What's his deal, anyway?"

"If Brother Ji Xiang could tell you, don't you think he already would've? Use your head," another young man scoffed.

......

Outside the door, Chen Wujun leaned against the wall, listening to the voices drifting through.

When the chatter died down, he bared his teeth in a grin — a smile edged with menace. He tugged at the cheap T-shirt on his back, then turned and walked away.

'The moment I joined, I was placed directly under Senior Sister. Of course they're resentful.'

'These gangs — at the end of the day, everything's built on strength.'

'If you can fight, everyone fears you, respects you, bows and scrapes when they see you.'

'If you're useless, even with someone watching out for you, the rest will still look down on you.'

'Even Ji Xiang might not be as friendly as he appears on the surface.'

Chen Wujun mulled it over as he left the building. Once his strength improved a bit more, he'd need to find an opportunity to demonstrate it. Only then would they have nothing left to say.

He'd joined Hetu to rise above — not to be someone's lackey, taking orders and swallowing dirty looks.

He slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling the satisfying bulge of cash. That, at least, lifted his spirits.

He wasn't short on money for now, but those funds were ill-gotten — once spent, they were gone.

From here on, he'd draw a monthly income. It wasn't a fortune, but for his needs, it was more than enough.

Leaving the Walled City, Chen Wujun followed his memory to Gao Senlong Road. This was the buffer zone between the civilian district and the Walled City, lined with several respectable-looking suit shops.

When the shop clerk saw the young man walk in, he didn't brush him off.

Chen Wujun's looks and clothing were nothing remarkable, but weeks of martial training had settled into his body. His bearing was commanding, his eyes bright and piercing.

When a man carries himself with that kind of presence, even in plain clothes, people won't look down on him.

"I need two pairs of trousers and two dress shirts," Chen Wujun declared. It was his first time in a shop like this, but he showed not a hint of hesitation. His manner was perfectly natural.

Before long, he'd selected two pairs of dark, stretchy casual trousers, one black dress shirt, and one blue.

Dark colors, mainly — they didn't show dirt.

But once he had them on, his entire appearance transformed. The unremarkable teenage face suddenly looked sharper, more refined — and noticeably more mature.

'Clothes really do make the man.'

'Put on a proper outfit and your whole presence shifts.'

'Strangers don't know your background. They look at your clothes and your bearing, and that's how they decide to treat you.'

'From now on, I need to dress the part.'

Chen Wujun was still turning these thoughts over as he stepped out of the suit shop.

He stopped at the shoe store next door and bought two pairs.

One was athletic and comfortable. The other was a pair of hard-soled leather shoes — the kind that gripped the ground the instant you planted your feet.

Between the clothes and the shoes, two thousand dollars vanished just like that.

Chen Wujun felt the sting of the price, but now that he truly understood that clothes made the man, he didn't feel an ounce of regret.

'From now on, I'll wear the finest clothes, drive the finest cars, live in the finest houses — and everyone will fear and respect me!'

Before, when he'd lacked experience, his idea of "making it" meant living in a mansion downtown and driving a luxury car.

Now, having tasted a sliver of a life he'd never known, his vision of rising above had sharpened into something far more concrete.

He passed a ramshackle stall on the street — obviously the kind of place that hawked knockoff watches.

Chen Wujun stepped inside and spotted several gleaming gold watches in the display case.

He knew full well they were fakes, but he lingered over them a moment longer than he should have.

Then he shifted his gaze elsewhere and ultimately spent a hundred and fifty on a plain, no-frills mechanical watch.

Chen Wujun carried his bags back into the Walled City, feeling the urgency of finding a place to rent more keenly than ever. Without one, he didn't even have anywhere to store these clothes.

He headed for Tin Hau Temple at the center of Lung Tsun Road. An elderly community center sat beside it. This was the only spot in the entire Walled City where you could actually see the sun.

The towering buildings all around hemmed in this tiny patch of open space.

Above the temple, though no other structures blocked the sky, a layer of wire mesh stretched across at six or seven meters up. Garbage bags and empty bottles hurled from the floors above littered its surface.

Near Tin Hau Temple stood a large notice board, plastered thick with rental flyers.

"Shared bunk, eight-person room. Permanent night-shift worker looking for someone to share a bunk. 150 a month!"

"Prime shopfront for transfer. Located on Elderly Street, approximately 33 square meters. Price negotiable."

"Hiring..."

"Two people sharing one bunk — one sleeps during the day, the other at night... What kind of life is that? Might as well go all in!" Chen Wujun murmured, scanning the flyers.

Prison was better than this.

"No background, no skills, and no guts — just drifting through life in a daze. No wonder they're stuck in poverty."

Soon enough, he found a listing for a proper rental. It was in the eastern district, not far from the martial arts school — thirteenth floor, roughly twenty square meters.

None of the buildings in the Walled City had elevators. Thirteen floors meant thirteen flights of stairs, and you had to haul your own water up every day. That made the rent slightly cheaper than comparable units.

For Chen Wujun, though, none of that was a drawback.

He already went up to the rooftop every day to train. Being two steps from the roof would actually be more convenient.

He didn't cook, so the occasions when he'd need to haul water would be few.

And if time was tight, he could always pay someone to carry it up.

Chen Wujun pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the flyer. He glanced around and noticed that the instant the phone appeared in his hand, several pairs of eyes had already locked onto him.

More than a few of those gazes held ill intent.

In the Walled City, the cardinal rule was simple: do not reveal wealth.

Chen Wujun sneered inwardly. 'Perfect — I've been needing live targets to practice on.'

"Hello, I'm calling about a rental. Block East-Zheng, Building 14, thirteenth floor... Right. Twenty minutes."

He hung up, shoved the phone deep into his pocket, and strode toward East-Zheng Building 14 with a bag in each hand, every nerve wound tight.

He hadn't gone far when he felt a hand slithering toward his pocket.

Chen Wujun's foot snapped backward and to the right in a vicious stomp. The man had barely begun reaching into Chen Wujun's pocket when his vision blurred — and searing pain exploded across the top of his foot.

Almost simultaneously, Chen Wujun drove an elbow into the man's chest.

The thief's head snapped back and he crashed to the ground.

Chen Wujun released both hands. The bags of clothes and shoes thudded to the pavement as his hands shot downward like twin spears — straight at the man's groin.

Kill the Tiger, Pierce the Heart!

Against a beast, this strike targeted the chest. Against a man — it went straight for the crotch.

The man hit the ground and began writhing, lips white, eyes rolling back into his skull. The agony was so overwhelming he couldn't even scream.

The crowd scattered at the sight of the brawl, then immediately reformed into a ring of eager spectators.

Among them, several figures wore hostile expressions — clearly the pickpocket's accomplices.

"You had the nerve to steal from me?" Chen Wujun's eyes blazed with ferocity as he swept his gaze across the crowd. "You really must have a death wish."