Chapter 32: Wenxinwu in the Prison

After all, they were of the same age and could communicate easily. After just a few exchanges, they were familiar enough to call each other by their nicknames. Wen Xiaocheng naturally became "the Little Scholar," while Wang Yang's nickname was "Shadow." Xiaocheng deliberately added an "eh" sound after the "zi," turning it into "Shadow Thief." Wang Yang had no objections to the nickname; in fact, it suited him, like the legendary shadow assassin, and matched his identity as the heir to the King of Thieves. However, Xiaocheng tried to take it further, wanting to turn "Shadow Thief" into "Lustful Thief." In the end, they compromised and took the "Yang" from Wang Yang's name, settling on "Yang Thief."

"Does Tiger Lord have a nickname inside?" Xiaocheng asked.

"Tiger Lord is already a nickname. But inside, it's actually a term of respect. As for nicknames, there's one—‘Tiger Buddha.’"

A heart as fierce as a tiger, yet attaining enlightenment like a Buddha.

Their conversation along the way gave Xiaocheng a rough understanding of the relationship between Taihu and Yang Thief. Wang Yang was an orphan, adopted as a child by Jia Changtai, the King of Thieves in the northwest, who taught him the arts of thievery. Jia Changtai was no saint; he gathered his apprentices from orphanages, shelters, even from traffickers. He made the children call him "father," but for him, they were just tools for making money. He never appeared at the scene of a crime, not even as a lookout, and if anyone failed, he’d disappear in an instant. Still, the old man was exceptionally skilled, whether at sleight of hand (theft) or at acrobatics (burglary, especially cat burglary).

Wang Yang wasn’t caught in the act—his foster father betrayed him to reduce his own sentence. To catch Wang Yang, Jia Changtai even cooperated with the police and set him up. Without concrete evidence, Wang Yang was convicted as a member of a theft ring and sentenced to six months. Jia Changtai, thanks to his "meritorious service," had his sentence reduced by six months. As Wang Yang put it, serving six months in prison for his foster father repaid the debt of upbringing.

"What was my dad like inside?" Wen Xiaocheng asked, curious.

"Your dad? There are over a thousand people in the prison, and I only respect two: my master, Taihu, and your dad. Taihu speaks with his fists—legend has it, on his first day inside, he rebelled and subdued more than twenty people in his cell. He had a three-year sentence, no reduction in the first two years, and even with good behavior in the third, wouldn’t earn much, so he didn’t care about rules. He’d been in solitary confinement, worn thirty kilos of shackles—most people need help to go to the bathroom with those, but not Tiger Lord. He’d do whatever he wanted, and beating people up didn’t slow him down. There’s a prison guard who used to be a soldier, supposedly a reconnaissance squad champion in Sanda, invited Tiger Lord out for a match, though no one saw what happened. After that, for a whole month, Tiger Lord ate roast chicken every meal!"

Xiaocheng was too intrigued by Tiger Lord’s stories to point out that the conversation had gone off track.

"Wherever Tiger Lord was, he was the cell boss. But when he was transferred to your dad’s cell, he finally yielded. Tiger Lord only respected your father!"

Hearing this, Xiaocheng felt a surge of pride. It seemed his dad wasn’t suffering too much inside, and these were things that couldn’t be discussed during prison visits. Even if told his father was cell boss, Xiaocheng wouldn’t have understood what it meant.

"How did my dad manage that? He definitely couldn’t beat Tiger Lord!"

"Your dad won people over with virtue. I came later, so I don’t know all the details of their rivalry, but the story goes like this: on the first day after transfer, Tiger Lord pointed at your dad and said, ‘From today, I’m the cell boss!’ Your dad didn’t argue, just said, ‘Alright, I hear you’re always the boss wherever you go. In our cell, the boss is chosen by everyone—once a day. Including yourself, if even one person votes for you, you’re the boss. How’s that?’ Tiger Lord thought it sounded fair—he’d always have one vote. So, with that rule, he was the boss for three days, then gave it up. Do you know why?"

Despite his intelligence, Xiaocheng couldn’t figure out how this could be resolved. No one could beat Tiger Lord, so how did his dad reclaim the position?

"As it turns out, your dad used to tell stories every evening after dinner, right at the cell door, sitting on a stool. When he spoke, the entire corridor would fall silent, and you could hear him from four or five cells away. But when Tiger Lord took over, your dad stopped telling stories! We were miserable—there’s nothing to do in prison, and after a hard day’s work, everyone looked forward to the Little Scholar’s tales before bed. Those in his cell understood what was happening, but didn’t dare speak up. Others didn’t know, and would call out, asking why there was no story tonight. Soon, everyone in the corridor was glaring at Tiger Lord. One day was alright, two could be endured, but who could stand everyone’s angry stares? On the third day, Tiger Lord quit on his own and handed the position back! After that, he listened to your dad’s stories with us. Now he’s willing to take me under his wing, all thanks to your dad’s words: 'Brothers, we’re all down-and-outs. Life outside is a hundred times harder for us than for others. If we can look out for each other, let’s do so, and try not to let anyone walk the old path again.'"

Yang Thief spoke with some emotion and, embarrassed, changed his tone: "Hear that? Your dad even called me a brother!"

Xiaocheng didn’t mind Yang Thief’s familiarity. In his mind, the image of an honorable elder inside the prison was growing clearer. Even a tough man like Tiger Lord could lay down his arms and find enlightenment in his presence. His father’s work of guiding others was evidently quite effective. He used to be a teacher, and now his educational efforts had only deepened. No wonder their family had received preferential treatment during prison visits and meetings—the prison’s scholar was almost like a counselor, telling tales, teaching history to the whole unit, and skilled with the pen, often publishing articles in various magazines. These were recognized as "meritorious service" for sentence reduction.

"Give it to me."

Yang Thief glared, "What?"

"You took my visitation reservation slip while I was lost in thought."

Yang Thief handed it over, disappointed—he’d hoped to use it to get his hundred yuan back.

Chatting all the way, their car entered the town. Without needing Xiaocheng’s directions, the Lustful Thief brought him straight to the Hongxing Grand Market by the Suyuan River. The car stopped in front of a billiards hall. Yang Thief waved, "Come on, I’ll introduce you to some brothers. Just say you’re my little brother."

The billiards hall was in the basement; the narrow stairs led downward. Even in broad daylight, there were no lights on. As they opened the door, smoke filled the air, and the exhaust fan was barely making a difference. The place wasn’t large, just twelve tables; except for one in the corner, all were occupied.

Behind the bar, a girl with dark circles under her eyes was playing on her phone. Yang Thief tapped the counter with his fingernail and asked, "Has Kang Long come today?"

The girl didn’t look up, just pointed inside. "Table Eight."

———

Lustful Thief is back with another chapter. After interacting with Wang Yang, many fearless readers left comments, requesting to appear in the story and offering to accept Old Dao’s hidden rules. Don’t worry, everyone; I’ll satisfy your requests one by one once Yang Thief goes bankrupt.