AGN -Chapter 309 Beggar (Part 1)

“Extra! Extra! Buy the newspaper!”

“Miss, please have mercy—give me something to eat!”

“Shopkeeper, please have mercy—give me something to eat!”

“Sir, please have mercy—give me something to eat!”

“Madam, please have mercy—give me something to eat!”

“Young master, please have mercy—give me something to eat!”

Qin Huai stood there dumbfounded, watching An Youyou kneel, kowtow, and beg all the way along in one smooth, practiced combo. His mouth hung open in shock.

At the moment, An Youyou looked like an eleven- or twelve-year-old child. Her clothes were tattered, and her face, body, hands—even her hair—were covered in dirt and grime. She was so filthy her gender was indistinguishable, a textbook image of a street beggar.

How should he put it… he already knew that the first life of spirit creatures never followed ordinary paths.

Chen Huihong buried herself in the soil. Qu Jing wanted to hide deep in the mountains. Luo Jun, bold and skilled, disguised himself as a wealthy young man returned from abroad. Chen Gong took the steady route, carrying loads to earn his first pot of gold.

Qin Huai could understand all four—just different “schools” of cultivation among spirit beings.

But what kind of strategy was An Youyou’s “beggar path”?

What kind of species was she? What exactly was written in those textbooks? Fine, she didn’t follow the norm like Qu Jing and chose to be a child—but why become a beggar on top of that?

Watching An Youyou’s skilled routine—“have mercy” begging, getting something if she succeeded, slipping away quickly if she didn’t, dodging competitors trying to snatch her food, and throwing punches when she could win—Qin Huai immediately realized:

An Youyou was a veteran beggar.

She must have spent quite some time begging after coming to the human world.

At the very least, she had integrated quite successfully.

Just born in the wrong era—otherwise she could’ve held up a phone shouting, “Brothers, I got food again!” and already achieved financial freedom.

Qin Huai simply watched her diligently beg for an entire day.

To be fair, the competition was fierce.

He quickly recognized the setting—it was Shanghai. Due to her status, An Youyou couldn’t enter the foreign concessions and could only wander between ordinary districts and remote suburbs. But many of the buildings matched what Qin Huai had seen in Luo Jun’s memories, confirming it.

A big city was indeed different. An Youyou, Luo Jun, and Chen Gong had all lived their first lives here—just at different times and in different identities. Otherwise, they might have even crossed paths.

As a professional beggar, An Youyou was excellent at reading people.

When she spotted a naive, well-dressed young lady accompanied by servants, she would throw herself onto the ground, rolling and wailing, using exaggerated movements and pitiful language to stir sympathy—earning a few coins tossed her way.

Even while rolling, she carefully kept her distance—close enough to perform, but far enough not to get beaten by the servants.

When encountering a rich young master with a companion, she would kneel and launch a sweet-talking verbal assault, flattering him with honeyed words until he happily tossed her some money.

For gullible types, she would cling persistently.

For students, she played up her misery—but never to a group, only targeting those who were alone.

For intimidating figures, she stayed far away, quietly begging on the side—just in case luck struck.

At restaurants, she begged after peak hours, choosing only busy places. Not at the main entrance, but at the side door. She acted deeply grateful, tearful, and desperate—as if she’d starve to death by tomorrow if she didn’t eat today.

If she met soft-hearted staff or owners, she might receive a lump of unidentifiable mush—or, if lucky, slightly spoiled leftovers.

Even among ordinary people, she had target demographics.

Laborers in short jackets were off-limits—they had no money, plenty of strength, and might even rob her instead.

Rickshaw pullers were also out—they were thinner than her, arguably more in need, and far faster.

But women who looked slightly better off—plumper, with some flesh on their cheeks and chin, less worn by hardship—were excellent targets.

All she had to do was pretend to be gravely ill, collapse onto the ground, and roll around. With her dirt-covered face and messy hair, no one could tell if she was truly dying. The women would recoil in disgust while muttering how pitiful she was, then bring out simple food—porridge or boiled beans.

Of course, begging wasn’t without danger.

The gang thugs—often background figures in Luo Jun’s story—and fellow beggars were both potential threats.

The former might vent their bad moods violently. The latter might turn to robbery out of jealousy over her daily earnings.

For An Youyou, the strategy was simple: avoid the first if possible, fight the second if necessary. She embodied adaptability to the extreme.

As the sun set and the light dimmed, An Youyou hummed an off-key tune, hopping lightly as she headed toward the outskirts.

Her begging route clearly doubled as her route home—starting in the city in the morning, working all day, finishing with her last stop by the riverside, then heading back.

There were many households along the river, and children were still playing nearby.

It was easy to distinguish farm children from beggars. Though not wealthy and often dirty from play, the farm kids at least wore intact clothing.

Beggars were different.

Among them, someone like An Youyou—who mastered begging techniques so precisely—was a rare elite.

Throughout the day, Qin Huai had seen more than one beggar beaten, cursed, or even brutally attacked—for speaking poorly, failing to appear pitiful enough, or being too pitiful and offending someone.

Ordinary beggars were lucky just to cover themselves with scraps. Someone like An Youyou, wearing a complete short jacket, was absolutely top-tier.

In fact, Qin Huai had only seen a similar outfit once—on the leader of a rival group that tried to rob her earlier.

Incidentally, that group had nine members. Eight were beaten to the ground by An Youyou. The leader ran away. Of their six copper coins earned that morning, she took four—leaving two so they wouldn’t starve to death.

From a distance, An Youyou glanced at the children playing by the river. There was no envy in her eyes.

She simply found a shallow spot, crouched down, and washed her face clean of mud. She casually rinsed her hair as well.

Most importantly, she washed her hands very carefully—again and again, five or six times—until there wasn’t a speck of dirt left under her nails.

“Boss! Boss, you’re back!”

In the distance, a ragged beggar—his upper garment reduced to a strip tied around his waist, his pants worn down to shorts, his entire body caked in dirt—ran toward her excitedly.

“Th-Thirteenth Brother found a job today!” he shouted, his voice almost piercing the sky.

An Youyou had just finished washing her hands. She carefully took out a cloth bundle wrapped in several layers from her chest and began counting her earnings, barely acknowledging him.

Inside were more than a dozen copper coins, several banknotes, a chipped bowl—and a white pound note.

The pound had come from a kind but naive rich young master, who, moved by her convincing tears, handed it over from his wallet.

Unfortunately, An Youyou had no education and no experience. She didn’t recognize pounds—only that it seemed to be money, though she had no idea how much it was worth. She valued it far less than the bowl given by a kind restaurant worker at noon.

She had already eaten the rice from the bowl, as well as the pastries she’d begged earlier. Around her waist hung a small pouch made from cloth strips, filled with beans, porridge, and some spoiled grain she didn’t want to eat.

Earlier, Qin Huai had wondered why she kept that food. Now, seeing she had underlings, he understood.

It was for them.

Even as a spirit being, if An Youyou became a beggar, she wouldn’t be an ordinary one—she was the boss, supporting a group of followers.

Quite literally feeding them.

“A job?” An Youyou frowned, confusion written all over her face. “Why would we need a job? Don’t we already have one?”

Qin Huai: …

Impressive. Redefining employment—this was true flexible work.

The little beggar didn’t dare argue and could only reply weakly:

“Th-Thirteenth Brother said being a beggar has no future. Times are chaotic, refugees are everywhere, even orphanages have stopped giving porridge. There are more beggars in the city every year—most don’t survive the winter. As a beggar, you either freeze to death, get kidnapped into factories and worked to death in months, or get beaten to death for stealing…”

“Begging has no future. When you grow up, because you can’t get enough to eat, your body will…”

“Malnutrition,” An Youyou added.

“Right, something like that anyway—skinny, small, no strength. No one would even hire you to carry loads.”

“Being a beggar isn’t a long-term plan. Finding a stable job and learning a skill is better,” the little beggar said honestly.

After listening, An Youyou asked, “You remember that so clearly and say it so smoothly… Xiao Jiu, how many times has Thirteen told you this?”

“More than half a month,” Xiao Jiu replied obediently.

An Youyou suddenly exploded, knocking Xiao Jiu hard on the head and sending him tumbling to the ground. “So that’s your excuse for not begging properly these past two weeks?”

“I’ve been working my butt off—getting up early, coming back late, working day and night, nonstop, fighting and begging out there with all my effort—and you lot are listening to Thirteen’s nonsense about going out to find jobs?”

“Have you forgotten how you survived? You all lived because I picked you up and brought you to that ruined temple! Is there any job in this world better than begging?”

“Weren’t you all raised by my begging?”

“And this Thirteen—so what if he has skills? Wasn’t he also picked up by me? Why did I pick him up? Because his previous job didn’t work out—worse than begging—so he couldn’t survive!”

“Xiao Jiu, I’m telling you, begging is the best job! There’s nothing more stable. If you go to the docks carrying cargo, some days they want you, some days they don’t. But begging? You can do it anytime!”

“What did you get today?”

Caught off guard by the sudden inspection, Xiao Jiu trembled. “O-one… one sweet potato.”

An Youyou sighed deeply. “No wonder Thirteen keeps telling you to find jobs. Your begging skills really are worse than mine.”

She tossed the pouch at Xiao Jiu and strode forward with the air of a king. “Come on. I want to see what kind of job Thirteen managed to find.”

Xiao Jiu carefully caught the pouch and hurried after her, sneaking black beans from it as he walked.

Qin Huai: …

What a surreal storyline.

Chen Huihong: “I learned how to survive during a famine.”
Luo Jun: “I lived as a rich young master in Shanghai.”
Chen Gong: “I searched for bosses in the human world.”
Qu Jing: “I lived in the countryside and saved my grandfather.”

And when it came to An Youyou—it turned into: “I became the boss of a beggar gang.”

Truly, appearances can be deceiving. Don’t be fooled by how An Youyou now works hard every day chasing promotions and raises, grinding herself into becoming the “radish cake sister.” In her first life, she had been a boss too—with thirteen underlings.

Not easy at all. One person begging to feed thirteen followers—no wonder she was so good at it yet still looked poor.

An Youyou and her thirteen underlings lived in a ruined temple on the outskirts of the city.

A literal ruin—the temple was half-collapsed, with only a few mud walls left to block the wind. When it rained or snowed, everyone probably had to huddle together in a corner just to avoid getting soaked or freezing.

All thirteen underlings, including Xiao Jiu, were there.

Eleven of them gathered together—children of varying ages. The youngest looked only three or four, while the oldest were about the same age as An Youyou. Surrounded by them was the tallest and oldest-looking boy—well-built despite being thin, clearly from a once decent background.

“Thirteen, you’re amazing! You actually got into Fujì Restaurant as a helper! We don’t even dare beg there—the staff are so fierce. Last time, Little Seven’s leg was broken by them, and Boss spent a lot of money to treat him!”

“Yeah, the staff at Fujì are terrible!”

“They never throw away leftovers or sell them—they dump everything straight into the river. They say even leftovers from important guests can’t be eaten by others, or it would ‘taint’ them!”

“I once saw them dumping leftovers—it smelled so good. After they left, I jumped into the river to grab some but didn’t get anything.”

“Thirteen, is the pay really high?”

“How did you get in? Can I go too? I want to work there!”

“Didn’t you just say they’re terrible?”

“Th-that’s different…”

An Youyou strode over. Seeing their boss return, the underlings crowded around her excitedly.

“Boss, you’re back!”

“Boss, Thirteen got a job at Fujì!”

“Boss, Thirteen brought back steamed buns! Only two—we didn’t dare eat them and saved them for you!”

“Boss, I got a bowl of meat soup today! I drank the soup but brought you the meat—there’s a whole piece!”

“Boss, I got a bag of black beans!”

“Boss, I grabbed a lot of leftovers—they’re spoiled though, not sure if eating them will kill us…”

The children chattered nonstop, but An Youyou ignored them all and stared straight at Thirteen.

“You actually got a job at Fujì?”

“How much do they pay?”

“One meal a day included, one silver dollar a month. If I can become a prep cook, it’s three silver dollars a month with two meals included.”

“Damn,” An Youyou blurted. “So there really is a job better than begging.”

Thirteen: …

“So are you leaving?” An Youyou asked.

Thirteen hesitated, then shook his head. “You saved me half a year ago. I won’t leave. But I can’t give you all my wages—only half.”

An Youyou thought for a moment. Half a silver dollar a month sounded pretty good. She nodded. “Deal. Then you’ll still get a share of whatever I beg.”

After that, she took out her treasured pouch, sorted out the copper coins and banknotes, and handed them to the second-oldest among the group. “Go buy something. Same as usual—I want salted fish.”

The boy took the money and ran. It would be dark soon—better not risk danger.

“Didn’t Little Eleven say you brought back two corn buns? Where are they? I haven’t had any in ages,” An Youyou asked.

One of the kids quickly went to fetch them.

An Youyou happily gnawed on the bun, then looked at Thirteen in confusion. “Thirteen, I really don’t understand—why don’t you just beg properly like me?”

“You’ve got great conditions—strong and good at fighting. If the two of us went out together, we’d dominate the whole city.”

“Even though the Fujì job is pretty good, I still think begging is better.”

Thirteen: …

“Maybe because I wasn’t a beggar before,” he said helplessly. “And I have a name.”

“My name is Jiang Weiguo.”

“I know, but ‘Thirteen’ rolls off the tongue better. Everyone’s just a number—you can’t be the only one with a name. Otherwise I’d have to come up with twelve more names. Too tiring.”

Jiang Weiguo looked at her speechlessly. “So that’s why you named yourself ‘Boss’?”

“That’s right!” An Youyou lifted her chin proudly. “What a great name! I thought about it for a long time—this is definitely the best name in the world!”