Under one person: I, Zhang Zhiwei, the arrogant Zhang

In the middle of the night, on the provincial capital street.

The two masters and apprentices, who had been sleeping in the open air for two days, finally entered the city, and they were going to find a place to worship the Wu Zang Temple!

The two walked towards the commercial street.

The provincial capital of the Republic of China was dilapidated and old, not comparable to later generations, but the streets were still very lively.

At a glance, several main streets are full of traffic, with bicycles, rickshaws, and light rail trams.

On both sides of the street, people come and go.

There are coachmen, men and women in fashionable tunic suits, students in school uniforms of the Republic of China, ghosts in suits, and local tyrants in robes.

In the open space not far away, some wanderers were performing their performances.

A skinny old man over sixty years old, wielding a pair of wooden hammers in his hands, dancing with the wind.

Beside him was a gray-faced, half-grown child, with a broken gong in his hand, beating and yelling vigorously.

At a glance, it is full of all kinds of beings, and the fireworks of the world everywhere.

The era seems to be condensed at this moment, interweaving a completely different atmosphere.

"Extraordinary, students in many colleges and universities in Kyoto went on strike, and workers went on strike to protest the endless civil war in Beiyang."

"Outside the nickname, the king of the Northeast swept across one side, and the power of the three provinces is under his control."

This is the newsboy shouting.

Newsboy, a very modern profession.

Most of them are poor children who earn a living by selling newspapers. San Mao in "The Wandering Story of San Mao" once did this.

Staying in Longhu Mountain all year round, the news is blocked, Zhang Zhiwei is planning to buy a newspaper to understand the current situation.

Suddenly, there was a commotion ahead.

After a closer look, it turned out to be an old man wearing a melon cap, who was caught by a patrol.

"Masters, what's the matter?" The old man nodded and said.

The patrol team surrounded the old man: "Take off your hat, I can smell the sour smell on your head from a long distance away."

Hearing this, the old man knelt on the ground and kowtowed repeatedly, begging the patrol team to let him go.

"My lords, please spare me, my lords, just treat me like a fart!"

"Why are you kneeling? The Qing Dynasty is dead, you are not allowed to kneel, you have to stand up, and we don't want your life, we just want you to cut off your braid!"

As the patrolman said, he tore off the melon cap from the old man's head.

Under the hat, the braids coiled into a coil are exposed.

After the fall of the Qing Dynasty, the officials of the Republic of China forbade the common people to wear boar skin hairstyles on the grounds that their bodies and hair were affected by their parents, and all braids were cut off.

This order was initially strongly resisted throughout the country.

The nearly 300-year rule of the previous dynasty made that long braid a deep-rooted necessity in many people's minds.

When orders were made to force the braids to be cut, people could be seen all over the street screaming for land, kowtowing and begging to keep their braids.

Now, the hair-shaving order has been implemented for some time, and except for some people who are deeply slavish, many people have adapted to the new hairstyle.

The old man in front of him is very servile.

Kneeling on the ground, kowtowed one after another, and slapped himself while kowtowing, looking extremely skilled.

Thinking about it, I kowtowed and slapped myself in the early years.

I have seen this kind of people a lot, and the patrol team was unmoved. They grabbed the old man's braids, starting from the root of the hair, and cutting it down with a scissor.

A dirty long braid that had been left for decades and washed once every six months fell to the ground.

The old man touched the top of his head in despair, sure that he had lost his braid forever, his body softened, and he fell to the ground.

"My God!"

He wailed, holding the stinky long braid in his hand, and pressed it to his face, tears running down his face.

"Bah, what kind of pee?"

The patrol scolded and pushed everyone away: "Let's go, let's disperse, there is nothing to see!"

After the patrol left, the rest of the crowd watched for a while, stroked the thick hair on top of their heads, and walked away.

Only the old man was left holding his braids and moaning mournfully, as if his son had died.

Zhang Jingqing didn't seem to be surprised by this, didn't look at it much, didn't comment, just walked ahead with her hands behind her back.

Zhang Zhiwei followed closely behind. He couldn't empathize with this kind of thing.

Whether it's from aesthetics, practicality, or other aspects, there is nothing good about boar hair hairstyles.

After this interruption, the newspaper boy also walked away, Zhang Zhiwei didn't bother to look for it, because eating was important.

I happened to see a restaurant on the side of the road, and the decoration was quite luxurious, so the master and apprentice walked in.

"Excuse me, how many people?" The waiter in the restaurant greeted.

Zhang Zhiwei put out a few ocean coins on the counter: "You two, serve all the delicious food."

He just wiped out a bunch of bandits and won dozens of dollars. Zhang Zhiwei is not short of money now, and he is very generous.

Regarding this, Zhang Jingqing didn't say much. The Taoist priests of the Zhengyi sect did not have as many rules as the Quanzhen sect.

"Look, Daoist, the good food will be served soon!"

Xiao Er swept the money into the tray, poured tea courteously, and then went to the back kitchen to yell, yelling to serve all the signature dishes.

Don't watch TV dramas, just enjoy as many oceans as you want.

But in fact, in this year, the purchasing power of Dayang is not low.

One dayang is one yuan, which is equal to two Zhongyang (a silver dollar with a denomination of five cents), ten Xiaoyang (a silver dollar with a denomination of one dime), or one hundred copper dollars (a copper dollar with a denomination of one cent).

Like the little girl just now, the monthly salary is about two oceans, and the master who cooks in the back kitchen is about five oceans.

The current prices are three cents a catty for rice, one cent for millet, one cent for beef, one-three cents for lamb, one cent for pork, one cent for sugar, one cent and two cents for cotton cloth, and several cents for vegetables.

Two oceans are equal to sixty-six catties of rice.

Changed to millet, it would be two hundred catties, enough for a family to eat and drink.

The dozens of yuan in Zhang Zhiwei's hand are nothing in the eyes of those dignitaries.

But for ordinary poor families, that is a huge sum of money, and the family will not have to worry about food and drink for several years.

Rubbing the big head pattern on the ocean, Zhang Zhiwei thought to himself, he really complied with the old saying, killing people and setting fire to the gold belt, building roads and bridges without corpses.

Soon, various meat dishes came to the table one after another.

Both the master and the apprentice are practitioners, and they can eat a lot. It didn't take long for a table of good wine and food to be eaten up.

The dishes next to Zhang Zhiwei were piled up in a thick stack.

The dishes next to Zhang Jingqing were higher than his pile.

There is a posture of "Miscellaneous Boys", where the two apprentices and the master eat white-cut chicken.

Hmm... I just need an apprentice.

After eating and drinking enough, Zhang Jingqing and Zhang Zhiwei stayed in this restaurant for one night. The next morning, they got up and went to the train station.

Tianshi is naturally not a pedantic person, he can take the train, but of course he can't ride a horse.

In this regard, Zhang Zhiwei agreed with both hands and feet.

Speaking of which, he had never been on this kind of coal-fueled steam train, so he was curious and wanted to see it.