Faced with what amounted to two months’ worth of salary, Zheng Jun didn’t even bat an eye. He immediately declined the money, gripping Zhou Pu’s hand tightly and speaking with heartfelt sincerity:
“I’ve been young and thoughtless these past few days. I’m already grateful for all the help you’ve given me, Brother-in-law! I can’t accept this money—let me treat you to a proper drink instead. Please, don’t turn me down!”
The two taels and six qian paid for the broken blade weren’t cheap.
But a standard-issue imperial saber from the Great Zhou wasn’t something you could simply buy with money. Even in the shadier corners of the world, one of these could easily fetch seven or eight taels—if you were lucky.
After all, when the court forged its weapons, it didn’t use impure scrap metals.
Had it not been for the recent demon-slaying campaign in Black Mountain—where a number of constables, bailiffs, and regional soldiers were killed—this broken blade never would’ve ended up within reach of common hands.
And even so, it was hotly contested. The fact that Zhou Pu managed to bring it back for Zheng Jun meant he’d cashed in some serious favors. Had Zheng Jun gone himself, he wouldn’t have gotten it for three or four taels, let alone two and six.
Even broken, the steel was top-grade—fit for reforging into new weapons. A precious asset, no doubt.
Zheng Jun was deeply moved. Though he had only transmigrated a few days ago, he already knew who was truly on his side.
“Ha! We’re family. No need to act like outsiders.”
Zhou Pu laughed heartily, gripping Zheng Jun’s hand just as firmly. His hand was steady and powerful—like everything else about the man.
“I get tribute money from the local hunting guilds and porters’ unions every week. I don’t need your four qian. You’ve got a bit of talent in the martial arts—spend that money on meat and build yourself up!”
“If that’s not enough, just come ask your Brother-in-law.”
With that, he stuffed the silver back into Zheng Jun’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Once you’re older, I’ll take you to the right people and get you your own tribute share. But right now, you’re too young. Those bastards’ll just treat you like a joke. They’re a sly bunch!”
Indeed, the monthly wage for a constable was abysmally low. Just two taels to live on—barely enough to feed a family, let alone afford martial training. Unsurprisingly, many turned to “gray income.”
From shielding bandits and taking cuts, to framing innocents, extorting victims, torturing suspects, and embezzling loot—such corruption was practically the norm in some circles.
That said, Zhou Pu wasn’t that kind of degenerate.
He didn’t act as a protector for major crime syndicates. That sort of thing was well beyond the pay grade of a low-level constable.
Instead, he oversaw a few porters’ guilds and traveling merchants in his district. Every month, they gave him a bit of silver in exchange for leniency and occasional favors. Sometimes they’d need to borrow his name to scare off outsiders.
These weren’t criminal gangs, just hard-working folk who needed protection in a murky world. For that, cooperation with someone like Zhou Pu was worth a few taels.
Other forms of income—such as intimidating civilians, taking bribes, or pinning crimes on scapegoats—were the realm of true scoundrels. And in a close-knit town where everyone knew each other, few had the stomach to cross that line.
Only types like Zhao Da and Zhao Er—former street thugs who lucked into power—would do such things without shame.
Everyone knew it. Even the magistrate, registrar, and deputy county chief turned a blind eye. After all, how else were low-ranking officers supposed to survive?
Without some flexibility, no one would stick around to do the county’s dirty work.
Zheng Jun fell silent in thought.
If that's how the system works… is there a way for me to get a slice of that gray income too?
Zhou Pu, of course, had no idea his little brother-in-law was already pondering his entry into soft corruption. He simply clapped Zheng Jun on the shoulder again and said:
“Alright, your sister’s probably waiting on us. Take the broken blade and practice every day. Just don’t do anything stupid, alright?”
The last bit carried a warning, and Zheng Jun caught it immediately.
“Don’t worry, Brother-in-law. I’ll only use this blade for practice—I won’t get involved in any messy business!”
Zhou Pu nodded, satisfied. After a few more reminders, he left in his usual swagger.
Zheng Jun remained, holding the broken blade and four qian of silver.
With the blade in hand, he could barely contain his eagerness. Ignoring the pig offal he’d just bought, he headed into the front yard and began practicing his blade techniques on the spot.
He practiced until his muscles screamed with pain—until sweat poured from his brow—and only then did he laugh out loud, satisfied, and head to the kitchen to cook up some meat.
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