Chapter 92: The Master's Kindness

This scene left everyone speechless, leaving those who had just doubted the master utterly dumbfounded. They stared at him in disbelief as he gave a faint smile, calmly pulling a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it, then extending his left hand to snatch the three thousand yuan in cash and the bank card bearing three thousand from the big man's grasp. The big man froze, his face flushing red as he huffed and muttered, "Hey, what... what are you doing? That's cheating!"
But the master merely chuckled, gathered the money in front of himself, and clamped the cigarette between his fingers. "You lost!"
With no time to react, the master exerted force, and the big man, startled, was shoved backward to the starting line. The master smiled again. "Aren't you going to admit defeat?"
Then he pushed harder, and with a heavy thud, the master's palm slammed the big man's hand down onto the table. When he released it, the big man gasped for air, shock etched across his face. Silence reigned around them—except for the distant clamor from Wangfujing Snack Street outside. Inside the stall, the quiet was absolute, like a graveyard.
A moment later, applause broke out. Some voices called out, "Damn, that's impressive! So much strength!"
"Yeah, I told you he wouldn't lose! You're all just jealous. He was amazing—had me stunned too."
"Me too. I didn't even dare to breathe just now. What's this guy's deal? His strength is like a bull's—oh my god!!"
I listened to the chatter but paid it no mind. Instead, a faint smile tugged at my lips. The master counted the cash, then turned to the crowd. "Just barely scraped a win. If he hadn't let me off the hook earlier, I would've lost, right?"
He glanced at the still-shocked big man, who finally snapped out of it. Lowering his head, he covered his face with one hand and said awkwardly, "Uh, yeah... yeah..."
The master smiled gently, but someone nearby shouted, "What kind of game is this? You won, you won. Why the modesty? We saw it all clear as day, didn't we?"
"Yeah!"
Applause echoed in response. The master said nothing, only offering a subtle smile. Then, facing the big man directly, he counted the three thousand yuan, pocketed two thousand, and held the remaining thousand in his hand while sliding the bank card across the table. The big man stared in bewilderment. The master smiled. "I don't need this card. This thousand is compensation—for the traffic jam and the attitude you showed earlier. It's no big deal. Call it even. Keep your eyes open, and if you're into working out, keep at it for a few more years."
With that, the master patted the big man's arm, turned, and walked out with me without a backward glance. I followed, the stinky tofu I'd already eaten long since tossed aside. The master paused in the middle of the walkway outside, greeting the tourists around us. All of them, including the ones who'd watched, came over. He pinched the thousand yuan in his fist and called out, "Nice weather today, and my mood's good too. Eat well, everyone!"
Before he could do anything else, I understood his intent. Sure enough, in the next instant, he flung the thousand yuan high into the air. The crowd surged instantly, scrambling for the fluttering bills as they scattered across the ground. The master pushed through the throng. My mouth fell open wide. He quickly covered it, laughing. "You little brat, got acupoint point, what are you staring at? Hurry up and move—security's gonna show up any second, hahaha."
He pulled me along, and we headed out of Wangfujing Snack Street. Once we stopped, I asked in confusion, "Master, your strength is incredible. You say I use money cleverly, but what about you? Tossing a thousand yuan like that..."
The master smiled and shook his head. "Toss it if you want. I don't miss that kind of money anyway."
I thought about it and nodded. Of course—the master's wealth wouldn't blink at a sum like that. Then he led me to a quiet corner of the next street. I watched him, puzzled. First tossing money, now dragging me to such a desolate spot—what was the plan?
We stopped at the alley entrance. A figure lay sleeping there, a cardboard box spread on the ground beside him. I stared, staring at the master in bewilderment. He shook his head, pressed a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, then fished out the two thousand yuan he'd just won. Handing me five hundred, he whispered, "Go buy some good food from the restaurant next door and a few bottles of water. Hurry."
I took the money, and he gently pushed me out. I glanced back once, but he waved me on. Reluctantly, I stepped into the nearby restaurant, ordered a bowl of rice and a generous plate of braised chicken, grabbed a few bottles of water, packed everything up, and returned. The master took the food and asked, "What are you doing, Master?"
He glanced at the meal boxes and then at the figure in the alley. "This is for him. He's a homeless old man. Buy him something to eat. If we can find him a place to stay, or just give him money to send to a nursing home..."
I finally understood. The master had noticed this homeless elder long ago. In my eyes, the master's kindness bloomed brighter than ever. There's an idiom for it: rob the rich to aid the poor. I never expected the master to use the winnings to buy food for a drifter. He looked carefree, but he was deeply attentive to these things, especially toward those without homes. No wonder he always called himself a super member of some charity organization. His every action revealed nothing but compassion and a kind heart. I smiled—not mocking his benevolence, but genuinely happy with what he'd done. We'd gone out for a trip, yet we'd helped someone after all.
The master smiled at me, meal box in hand, and walked into the alley. I followed. Clutter and two overflowing trash bins lined the narrow space, the air thick with stench. I didn't mind—after all, I'd come from the countryside; nothing fazed me. The old man seemed to stir at our footsteps. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide with fear. "Don't chase me away! I'll leave right now, I swear!"
He stood without looking up, grabbed a plastic bag, folded the cardboard box under his arm, and shuffled toward the alley's exit. The master immediately said, "Old man, don't be afraid. We're not from city management."
The old man froze. We stepped into the light, and I finally saw his face clearly—black dirt streaked across wrinkled skin, a few stubborn stubble on his chin, hair snow-white. The sight twisted something in my chest. Honestly, it made my heart ache. He looked sixty or seventy, still wandering alone. Anyone would feel heartache. I wanted to help.
The old man still looked nervous, silent. The master smiled and approached. Taking the box and bag from him, I helped arrange his things. Then the master lifted the meal box. "Old man, we're locals here. Watching you wander alone every day, it's tough. This meal's for you—eat while it's hot. Don't worry, we're good people."
The old man stared at him in surprise, his dirt-smudged face somehow revealing gentleness beneath. Hard of hearing, he squinted and asked, "Ah... young man, what did you say?"
The master leaned closer. "I said, we're local residents. I bought you a meal today. Eat while it's hot."
The old man finally understood, staring at the master in disbelief.