Chapter One: Rickshaw Boy

The mottled wooden walls were furred with mildew, and light filtered through the patched roof.

There was a small, hard, icy-cold plank bed, a tattered quilt that reeked of mold, and barely any room to move.

When Chen Guangliang awoke and saw everything before him, he was seized by a profound sense of unfamiliarity.

Then another set of memories surged into his mind, colliding and merging with his own.

After a long while, he still could not accept the fact that he had become one of the lowest members of society in Shanghai’s Zhabei District in 1927.

Yet no matter how hard he pinched his thigh or slapped his own face, everything felt horrifyingly real.

The surroundings before him filled him with bleak despair. Why couldn’t he have crossed into a better environment, with a better background?

With his current social status, surviving the War of Resistance would be difficult enough, let alone making a living in Shanghai during the 1920s and 1930s.

Warlords ruled the land, while hoodlums ran rampant.

In his previous life, Chen Guangliang had lived a comfortable existence, with a car, a home, and a modestly bourgeois lifestyle. In his spare time, he enjoyed reading, researching, and watching films and television dramas, so he had some understanding of this era.

But that “understanding” did not make him happy or lead him to believe he could become a great tycoon in Shanghai. Instead, it filled him with pessimism and anxiety about his life and future.

“Guangliang, are you awake yet? Hurry up and get dressed. I’m taking you to Boss Wang’s place to rent a rickshaw.”

“Coming, Second Uncle.”

Chen Guangliang answered instinctively.

Only then did he remember that today was his first day entering the rickshaw trade.

Chen Guangliang was from Ningbo. Since he had always eaten a great deal, his parents had sent him to Shanghai at the age of thirteen to seek refuge with his second uncle.

His second uncle was also a rickshaw puller. At first, he had found Chen work as a helper in a small restaurant run by a fellow townsman. At fifteen, Chen had transferred to a restaurant owned by an overseas Chinese from Australia, where he became a kitchen apprentice.

He had always envied his second uncle for pulling rickshaws: the harder one worked, the more one earned. Thus, he had constantly pestered his uncle to let him enter the trade.

Now that he had turned seventeen, his second uncle had finally agreed.

“Second Uncle!”

“Come on. We have to hurry.”

After tidying himself up as quickly as possible, Chen Guangliang went outside to meet Yang Qingshan, his second uncle.

Only then did he get a proper look at their surroundings. They were in a shantytown in Fanguan Alley, Zhabei District. Most of the houses had walls made of wood, bamboo, or mud, with roofs of straw. Many were nothing more than crude structures shaped like the character A, while others were the so-called “rolling earth dragons,” little more than shelters thrown together on the ground.

Even this land belonged to someone. The people who built shacks upon it still had to pay roughly eighty cents a month in “ground rent.” There was no water or electricity, and the stench carried far beyond the settlement. Conditions were far worse than what later generations would call a slum.

There was no time to think further. He followed his second uncle toward the edge of the shantytown.

“You’ve spent a month following me and learning how this business works, but today is your first real day pulling a rickshaw. Be sure to remember what I tell you. Strength is certainly useful in this trade, but you need a little sense as well…”

“I’ll remember, Second Uncle.”

Yang Qingshan was thirty-five, but years of hard labor made him look well over forty. His gaunt face, dark skin, and single row of yellow teeth were the very embodiment of a rickshaw puller in this age.

In truth, a rickshaw puller earned less than a textile mill girl in Shanghai—around ten silver dollars a month, give or take. Some could not even make enough to cover their living expenses.

But there was no alternative. The trade required little thought, had a low barrier to entry, and anyone with a bit of strength could pull passengers. It was therefore one of the easiest occupations for the poor to enter.

Yang Qingshan was a responsible elder, and all along the way he tirelessly instructed his nephew.

“Come to think of it, you’re lucky. Shanghai has seen a major upheaval this month, with many people killed and everyone living in fear. That’s why a few rickshaw spots have temporarily opened up. I happened to introduce you to Boss Wang, and he readily agreed to let you give it a try. Otherwise, this trade is difficult to break into!”

Chen Guangliang nodded from time to time. Naturally, he knew that a major event had taken place that month. The Three Great Gangsters had formally joined forces with the Bald Head, paying for it with the blood of countless workers.

After a brisk fifteen-minute walk, Yang Qingshan brought Chen Guangliang to a house with a courtyard. It was not a foreign-style mansion, but it was clearly the residence of a wealthy man.

At the gate, his second uncle gazed enviously at the Wang residence and continued introducing its owner.

“Boss Wang runs a large operation. He has more than a hundred rickshaws, all carrying the Grand Concession permits, so they can travel freely through the foreign concessions. He also has over two hundred rickshaw pullers under him, most of them fellow Zhejiang men.”

“I see.”

Licenses issued in the Chinese districts of Shanghai were called minor permits. Rickshaws bearing them were forbidden from entering the foreign concessions.

Only rickshaw licenses issued by the concessions themselves, known as grand permits, allowed a vehicle to enter several of the concessions.

Of course, there were plenty of unlicensed rickshaws on the roads as well.

Apart from the Red-Headed Indians around Nanking Road, who relentlessly hunted down rickshaws, conditions were somewhat better elsewhere.

When they entered the Wang residence, several people were already waiting in line to rent vehicles.

“Good day, Boss Wang. This is the nephew I told you about, Chen Guangliang. He’s here to rent a rickshaw today.”

Boss Wang was named Wang Chengyun. He was fair, plump, and wore a kindly smile.

But he was not someone to underestimate. The more than two hundred rickshaw pullers under his command were his power. Calling them a gang would not have been inaccurate.

He glanced at Chen Guangliang and said, “You were right. Your nephew has the build of a rickshaw puller. He looks strong.”

Chen Guangliang bowed slightly.

“Good fortune to you, Boss Wang.”

Wang Chengyun nodded in satisfaction, then spoke without ceremony.

“Ten silver dollars as a deposit. Fifty cents for ten hours’ rent. Do you have it?”

Chen Guangliang took out a cloth bundle and placed nearly all his worldly possessions on the table before Wang Chengyun.

“Please count it.”

After spending some time learning the trade from his second uncle, he already understood the fares.

For every half mile or less—one mile being equal to 1.61 kilometers—the charge was eight cents. If the fare was calculated by time, the first hour cost fifty cents, and every additional half hour or part thereof cost twenty-five cents.

These were the rates established by the Municipal Council of the foreign concessions.

In other words, a rickshaw puller had to earn at least eighty-five cents every ten hours merely to survive—to have enough to eat. That meant completing roughly eleven short trips just to make a basic living.

Eleven short trips was no small task. There was no guarantee of finding that many fares in a day, and eleven half-mile journeys amounted to more than eight kilometers of hauling a heavy load on foot. It was grueling physical labor.

Besides, Shanghai had relatively few rickshaws—nearly twenty thousand—while there were more than fifty thousand pullers. Competition was fierce.

Rickshaw pullers also occupied the lowest rung of society. They were routinely extorted by local thugs and patrol officers, and they encountered troublesome passengers who refused to pay.

In short, no line of work was easy.

“Vehicle number 6062. Return it before five in the afternoon. Every hour of delay costs ten cents.”

Wang Chengyun handed Chen Guangliang a numbered tag and gave him one final reminder.

“Yes, Boss Wang.”

“Work hard. You’ll have no trouble earning enough to fill your stomach.”

Chen Guangliang took the tag. At the vehicle yard, someone checked it before handing over the rickshaw.

When he saw the rickshaw assigned to him, his expression changed slightly.

It appeared to be only about sixty percent new.

Leaving aside the possibility of a breakdown, many passengers chose a vehicle by its appearance before taking a seat. This put him at a disadvantage from the very beginning.

Clearly, Wang Chengyun had done it deliberately, giving a newcomer an inferior vehicle.

“It’s nothing serious,” Yang Qingshan consoled him. “Work a little harder, and earning a silver dollar won’t be a problem.”

“Second Uncle, does the night shift earn more?”

Shanghai was known as a city that never slept. Since so many people went out at night in search of wine and women, Chen Guangliang asked the question.

“You might earn a little more, but public safety is worse at night.”

Chen Guangliang did not see it that way. He was not especially afraid. If he failed to work hard and earn money, he might still end up dying miserably at the hands of the Japanese in the future.

“After we’ve settled in, I’ll rent the vehicle from Boss Wang for the whole day and we can take turns pulling it. That will give us two extra working hours, and neither of us will have to waste time traveling back and forth. I’ll work nights, and you work days. How does that sound?”

The night shift cost only forty cents, making the full day’s rent ninety cents.

“You’re certainly enthusiastic now. We’ll see how long that lasts. If you really want to do it, then we’ll follow your plan.”

Pulling a rickshaw was exhausting work. Yang Qingshan thought his nephew was merely fired up for the moment. If Chen could earn enough to cover his living expenses, that would already be good. If he worked a little harder and managed to save some money, finding a wife later would not be difficult. After all, the boy was handsome and well built.

At that moment, however, Chen Guangliang was filled with determination. He had been transported into this world only an hour earlier, but he believed that since he had come, he must make the best of it. And if he wanted to survive the future, he had no choice but to fight for his life.