“You’re still young, and you’ve only been in the academy for six months. Don’t think about making a name for yourself just yet. Stay steady for a decade or so, and if you get the chance to break through to Martial Master, you might become a constable. Unlike us, who’ll spend our whole lives as mere patrolmen.”

Old Lane spoke as Nathaniel Clark listened attentively. Soon, the two arrived at a commercial street.

The vendors on the street greeted Old Lane warmly.

“This place’s wontons are pretty good, come and try some.”

The breakfast shop owner enthusiastically served wonton noodles to Old Lane and Nathaniel Clark. After finishing the meal, Old Lane tossed four copper coins onto the table and left.

Nathaniel Clark noticed the look in the owner’s eyes—there was no dissatisfaction or resentment. On the contrary, he smiled as he watched the two of them leave.

“As patrolmen, our salary isn’t high, but when it comes to food and drink, it’s not bad. Any shop under your jurisdiction, you can eat or take as you please. I’m already being decent—the wonton noodles here sell for five coins a bowl, but the cost is only two. Giving four coins means the owner doesn’t lose money, so of course he’s happy.”

Old Lane noticed Nathaniel Clark’s earlier reaction and offered an explanation.

“Master Lane is truly conscientious.”

Nathaniel Clark wasn’t just flattering him. In his previous life, plenty of law enforcement with power would squeeze the businesses under them. Forget about paying cost—if they didn’t take things outright, that was already pretty good.

In his previous life, where everyone claimed equality, it was like this—let alone in a feudal country like the Liang Dynasty.

Next, Old Lane took Nathaniel Clark to collect protection… collect business taxes from the merchants.

Different types of businesses paid different amounts of tax. Even for the same type, the amount depended on the scale and how well the business was doing.

“That butcher shop just now is backed by the Sanzhu Gang. The gang leader and two deputy leaders are all Martial Masters—not people us lowly patrolmen can afford to offend. I take thirty percent from other shops, but only twenty percent from this one.”

“If you try to take more, the owner will still give it, but you’d better watch your back—one day you might get a sack thrown over your head and get beaten crippled in the street. The higher-ups won’t go to war with the gangs for us little patrolmen. If you get crippled, you just have to accept your bad luck.”

“Ten percent of the tax goes to the police station. Anything extra goes into your own pocket. How much you can get depends on how lucrative your area is. If you want to make money in a good area, you have to grease the palms above you. Don’t look at how I’ve already collected thirty taels—fifteen go to the higher-ups, ten for bribes, and only five taels are really mine.”

Old Lane was indeed considerate, telling Nathaniel Clark all the unspoken rules of the police station.

“Hey, you just never learn, do you? Back here selling again.”

At the other end of the street, Old Lane suddenly drew the saber at his waist, and Nathaniel Clark followed suit.

The two of them menacingly surrounded a dark-skinned, middle-aged vendor.

In front of the vendor were several iron cages, containing pheasants, wild rabbits, and some animals Nathaniel Clark didn’t recognize.

“Mr. Lane, please forgive me. My wife just gave birth to a big, healthy boy and she’s short on milk, so I’m selling some wild game to get a prescription from the pharmacy to help her lactate.”

The man lifted a sack tied with rope beside him: “There’s a silver-backed viper in here, Mr. Lane, take it home and make soup.”

Old Lane sheathed his saber and gave Nathaniel Clark a look. Nathaniel Clark took the sack.

“You can only set up for one hour. If you stay even a quarter of an hour longer, you’ll be spending three days in the cell with me.”

“Don’t worry, I know the rules. Thank you, Mr. Lane.”

…

An hour later, Nathaniel Clark was carrying two bags of pastries, a sack, and his pockets were stuffed with sunflower seeds.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the theater.”

Nathaniel Clark’s eyes lit up—now he definitely wasn’t sleepy.

He followed Old Lane into the brothel, handing his things to the doorman for safekeeping.

Then, they listened to opera for an hour.

“Fool, the girls at the brothel have been busy all night. In the morning, they’re all catching up on sleep. If you want to see something, come back at night.”

Leaving the brothel, Old Lane teased Nathaniel Clark. The two then found a restaurant for lunch, and in the afternoon, went back to the brothel to listen to more opera.

Not until sunset, when the brothel started to get lively, did Old Lane and Nathaniel Clark return to the police station.

It was time to go back and change shifts.

“Today was your first street patrol. Take all these things home.”

“Thank you, Master Lane.”

Nathaniel Clark didn’t stand on ceremony, knowing that Old Lane patrolled every day and surely didn’t lack these things at home.

On the way home, the neighbors looked at Nathaniel Clark in his uniform with a trace of respect on their faces.

Patrolmen might be small fry in front of big shots, but to ordinary people, they were big figures—they represented the authorities, after all.

“Auntie, I’m home.”

“Xiao Ning, you’re back. The food will be ready soon.”

The old aunt’s eyes reddened when she saw Nathaniel Clark in uniform. “How wonderful. Your father wore this uniform too, back in the day—he looked so impressive.”

Nathaniel Clark didn’t explain to the old lady that the constable and patrolman uniforms were different. He just smiled and said, “I bought a snake today to nourish you. I’ll go take care of it.”

He put the pastries on the table, carried the sack to the well, and untied the rope.

As the sack opened, a triangular snake head shot out from the opening, aiming to bite his arm.