Chapter 2 - 30 wen and a single dream

Charlie glanced toward the road leading into Liangjing.

He had spent enough time sitting in this courtyard. Whatever had happened to him, staying in one place wasn’t going to make the situation any clearer. If this really was Liangjing, then the city was where he would find answers.

He looked back at the woman.

"Would you happen to have some money I could borrow?"

"Money?"

"Yes. Just enough to buy a few things."

She studied him for a moment before giving a small nod. "Wait here."

Charlie watched her disappear inside.

A moment later, she returned carrying a small cloth bag. She placed it in his hand as though there were nothing unusual about the exchange.

"There should be enough in there for what you need."

Charlie weighed the bag in his palm. It felt suspiciously light, but he assumed that was simply how much money he had been given.

"Thank you. I’ll pay you back."

The woman smiled. "You can worry about that later."

Charlie slipped the bag into his clothes and stepped toward the courtyard entrance.

"Don’t come back too late."

He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

The woman was already turning back toward the house. "The master will be angry if you don’t cook dinner."

Charlie stared at her.

"The master?"

"Yes."

He looked between her and the house. "I work here?"

The woman seemed confused by the question. "You sleep here, don’t you?"

"Apparently."

"In exchange for letting you stay, you cook for the house."

Charlie looked toward the building where he’d spent the night, then back at her.

"So, in exchange for cooking dinner, I sleep with the animals and wake up surrounded by all their shit?"

The woman gave a casual shrug.

"Something like that."

Charlie waited for an explanation. None came.

Instead, she waved him toward the road. "Hurry. You’ll be late."

Charlie opened his mouth, thought better of it, and stepped outside. A familiar snort came from behind him.

He stopped.

Biggie was following.

"No."

The pig continued walking.

Charlie turned around fully. "Stay here."

Biggie stared at him.

"Stay."

The pig’s ears twitched.

"You’re not coming with me."

Biggie walked past him.

Charlie watched the pig disappear through the entrance, then looked back at the woman.

She was trying not to laugh.

"He’s always been like that," she said.

Charlie sighed and followed.

"Rigth."

The road into Liangjing gradually became busier. What had been quiet paths between scattered houses opened into a broad street lined with wooden buildings, food stalls, carts, and people moving in every direction. Merchants called out to passing customers while workers carried crates between shops. Somewhere nearby, something was being fried, and the smell immediately reminded Charlie that he hadn’t eaten properly since waking up.

Biggie seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

The pig’s nose lifted as they passed a food stall.

"Don’t."

Biggie kept walking.

Charlie glanced at him. "I’m not paying for you."

Biggie continued toward the smell.

"You don’t even have money."

The pig stopped. For a brief moment, Charlie thought the animal had actually understood him. Then Biggie wandered toward another stall.

Charlie shook his head and caught up.

He approached a nearby stall and reached for the cloth bag. His fingers closed around it, and he pulled it out, expecting to find enough money for something to eat.

When he opened it, there was nothing inside.

He frowned and turned the bag upside down. Not a single coin fell out.

Charlie checked his clothes as well, searching the pockets on the off chance that she’d somehow put the money somewhere else. They were empty.

The woman had said there was enough inside for what he needed. She had been completely sincere about it, too.

Charlie slowly exhaled.

She had simply forgotten to put the money in.

Biggie snorted beside him, still staring at the food stall. Charlie glanced down at him. "Don’t look at me. I don’t have any money."

Biggie continued watching the food.

"I know. I’m disappointed too."

"I know. I’m disappointed too."

Charlie tucked the empty bag away, but his mind had already moved on from the food. The system had identified itself earlier, yet he’d been too busy trying to understand everything else to properly examine what that meant. If it could somehow know his name, his age, where he came from, and even the fact that he didn’t belong in this world, then perhaps it could give him money.

"System."

He waited a moment.

"System, can you hear me?"

[Confirmed.]

A faint panel appeared in front of him, suspended in the air. Charlie stared at it for a few seconds before reaching out. His fingers passed straight through the display.

Biggie sniffed at the edge of it.

Charlie pulled his hand back.

"Can you give me money?"

[Request denied.]

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

[The System does not provide currency without corresponding conditions being fulfilled.]

"So you can give me money, but you won’t."

[Correct.]

Charlie considered that. "Can you give me something I can sell?"

[Request denied.]

"Food?"

[Request denied.]

"A house?"

[Request denied.]

Biggie gave another snort.

Charlie glanced down at him. "I’m trying to work here."

The pig returned his attention to the food.

Charlie looked back at the floating panel. "Then what exactly can you do for me?"

There was a brief pause.

[The System can provide opportunities for the Host to earn currency.]

"Opportunities?"

[Confirmed.]

A new line of text appeared.

[Available Task]

[Earn 30 wen.]

[Reward: 30 wen.]

Charlie read it twice.

"That’s it?"

[Confirmed.]

"How do I earn it?"

[The Host must complete an assigned task.]

"What task?"

[Task: Resolve a dispute between two merchants.]

[Completion Condition: Both parties must voluntarily accept the Host’s resolution.]

[Reward: 30 wen.]

Charlie stared at the words.

A dispute between two merchants.

That was the system’s solution to his money problem.

He looked toward the rows of shops lining the street, then back at the task.

"Where are they?"

[The System has marked their location.]

A small indicator appeared on the panel.

Charlie studied it, then followed the direction it pointed, with Biggie trotting after him.

After some time Charlie reached a busy commercial street near the eastern side

Charlie stopped beneath the shade of a shopfront and looked at the notification hovering in his vision.

[Quest Location Reached.]

[Two merchants are currently engaged in a commercial dispute.]

[Resolve the dispute.]

[Reward: 30 wen.]

"So this is the place."

The system’s directions ended at a large merchant house on the opposite side of the street.

Two men stood outside.

Neither looked particularly pleased.

The older of the two wore an expensive dark-blue robe embroidered with gold thread around the sleeves. His stomach protruded slightly over his belt, and the jade pendant hanging from his waist was large enough that Charlie suspected it was meant to be noticed.

The other man was younger, perhaps in his thirties. He wore a simpler brown robe, though the quality of the fabric was still considerably better than anything Charlie had seen worn by ordinary laborers. Several crates were stacked behind him, and two assistants stood nearby.

The older merchant jabbed a finger toward the shipment. "I paid for one hundred bolts of cloud silk. What arrived was damaged, and now he expects me to pay the full price."

The younger merchant folded his arms. "What arrived was perfectly acceptable when it was unloaded. Your own men were the ones who opened the crates and handled the silk."

"They opened them because your shipment arrived late, and I wasn’t going to wait until evening to discover whether you’d sent me rubbish."

"And did you find rubbish?"

"I found torn silk."

"After your men had already opened the crates."

The older merchant gave a dismissive laugh. "So now you’re saying my men deliberately damaged your goods?"

"I’m saying I wasn’t there when it happened, and neither were you."

That seemed to irritate the older man more than the accusation itself. "You expect me to pay for goods I cannot sell?"

"I expect you to stop pretending you know who caused the damage."

The older merchant noticed him looking.

"What are you staring at?"

Charlie looked at him.

"Nothing."

"Then stop listening."

Charlie glanced back toward the crates.

"You’re arguing about damaged silk?"

The older merchant’s expression darkened.

"What business is it of yours?"

"None."

Charlie paused.

"But you’re both arguing loudly enough for half the street to hear."

A few people nearby turned away, pretending not to listen.

The younger merchant gave Charlie an irritated look.

"If you have nothing to do with the matter, keep walking."

Charlie nodded.

"Fair enough."

Charlie nodded, though his attention remained on the crate rather than either merchant. A jagged splinter protruded from the inside of one of the wooden slats, and Charlie leaned slightly closer to examine it.

"That could have done it."

The younger merchant followed his gaze. "What could have?"

Charlie pointed toward the splinter. "That. If the silk was packed against it, something as simple as the crate being knocked around during transport could have caught the fabric."

The older merchant immediately shook his head. "That piece wasn’t there when the shipment left my warehouse."

"Then it broke afterward."

"Exactly."

"Which means it could have happened during the journey."

"It did not."

Charlie looked at him, mildly surprised by the certainty in his voice. "You seem rather confident."

"I know my own goods," the merchant replied sharply. "My men inspected every crate before it left."

Charlie looked from him to the younger merchant and then back toward the damaged crate. Neither man appeared remotely interested in reconsidering his position, which meant that continuing the argument would probably accomplish very little.

He might have left it there if he hadn’t noticed one of the younger merchant’s assistants standing beside the other crates.

The young man had barely spoken throughout the entire argument, but whenever the damaged shipment was mentioned, his eyes kept drifting toward the same crate before quickly moving away again. Charlie watched him for a few seconds, more out of curiosity than suspicion, and eventually the assistant noticed.

Their eyes met.

The young man immediately looked elsewhere.

Charlie glanced back at the crate, then at the assistant again.

The older merchant noticed the exchange. "What are you looking at now?"

"Nothing."

"You’ve been standing here for several minutes. If you have something to say, say it."

Charlie considered the man for a moment before gesturing toward the assistant. "I’m more interested in why he keeps looking at that crate."

The assistant’s face lost some of its colour.

The younger merchant turned toward him. "What does he mean?"

"Nothing," the assistant said quickly.

Charlie crouched beside the damaged crate and examined the broken wood more closely. Something thin was caught between the splinter and the edge of the fabric. He carefully pulled it free and held it between two fingers.

A loose thread from the silk.

He turned it over, noticing the small flecks of dust clinging to it before looking down at the floor beneath the crate. The same fine dust covered the boards.

"When did you move these crates?" he asked.

The assistant hesitated. "After they arrived."

"And before your employer inspected them?"

"Yes."

"Did you open them?"

"No."

The answer came so quickly that Charlie looked up. The assistant seemed to realize his mistake almost immediately.

"You should probably ask him that again."

The merchant’s expression hardened. "Did you open the shipment?"

The assistant remained silent.

"I asked you a question."

The young man lowered his head. "Yes."

The merchant stared at him.

"You opened the shipment before I arrived?"

"I only wanted to check the silk," the assistant said, his voice becoming increasingly nervous. "I thought it would be better to make sure everything was there before you came."

"And what happened?"

The assistant swallowed.

"One of the crates slipped."

The silence that followed was enough to answer the rest. The older merchant slowly turned toward the younger man.

"So the silk was intact when it left my warehouse."

The younger merchant’s expression tightened with embarrassment. His assistant quietly nodded.

"It was."

The older man’s face flushed with renewed anger. "And you accused my men of damaging it?"

"I didn’t know," the younger merchant replied.

"You didn’t know because you never bothered to find out."

"I said I was sorry."

"Sorry does not repair a man’s reputation."

Charlie straightened, figuring the matter was settled enough for him to leave. He had barely taken a step when the older merchant’s voice stopped him.

"You."

Charlie turned.

The man’s anger had shifted toward him.

"Who do you think you are?"

Charlie frowned. "I’m Charlie."

"I did not ask for your name."

"Then I’m not sure what you’re asking."

The younger merchant looked between them, apparently realizing where this was heading. "Leave him alone. He only pointed out what happened."

The older merchant ignored him. "You came here knowing nothing about my business, questioned me in front of my own men, and now you walk away as though you’ve done something impressive."

"I wasn’t trying to impress anyone."

"You called me a liar."

Charlie shook his head. "No. I said you didn’t have proof."

The distinction only seemed to make the merchant angrier.

His hand moved suddenly. Charlie saw the motion a moment before the strike came, but not nearly early enough to do anything about it. Then something large and pink shot across his field of vision.

There was a heavy thud, followed by a startled cry, and when Charlie looked again, the merchant was flat on his back with Biggie sitting squarely on his chest.

For a moment, the entire street seemed to fall silent. Biggie looked perfectly content.

The merchant, meanwhile, was struggling beneath several dozen kilograms of the pig.

"GET THIS THING OFF ME!"

Biggie responded with a satisfied grunt and settled down even more comfortably.

Charlie stared at him.

"Biggie..."

The pig turned his head.

The younger merchant had covered his mouth, but the effort to suppress his laughter was clearly failing. One of his assistants had already turned away, shoulders shaking.

The merchant beneath Biggie was considerably less amused.

"I WILL HAVE THIS ANIMAL KILLED!"

Biggie’s ears twitched. Charlie immediately stepped forward.

"I wouldn’t threaten him while he’s sitting on you."

The merchant stopped.

Charlie looked at the system notification hovering in front of him.

[Dispute Resolved.]

[Quest Complete.]

[Reward: 30 wen.]

Charlie stared at the reward for several seconds before slowly looking at Biggie again.

Thirty wen were thirty wen.

"Your pig," the younger merchant said, staring at Charlie as though he was no longer certain whether he was speaking to a man or some particularly strange wandering cultivator, "is extremely well trained."

"I wouldn’t call it trained."

Biggie gave a quiet grunt.

The younger merchant glanced between them, then decided not to ask what that meant.

With some effort, Charlie managed to coax Biggie off the older merchant, although the pig seemed reluctant to surrender such a comfortable seat. The merchant immediately scrambled upright, dusting himself off with as much dignity as he could recover while his face remained red with humiliation.

"You," he snapped, pointing at Charlie, "should keep that animal under control."

"I tried."

"Do not mock me!"

"I think he made his own decision."

For a moment, the younger merchant seemed to struggle against a smile. He eventually cleared his throat and stepped between them before the argument could begin again.

"Enough. The matter with the silk is settled."

The older merchant opened his mouth, clearly intending to object, but his eyes shifted toward the crate, then toward his assistant, and finally toward Biggie.

Whatever argument he had prepared appeared to lose some of its strength.

"The shipment was damaged after it left my warehouse," he muttered. "Fine. I will pay for what was undamaged."

"That is all I wanted."

The younger merchant turned toward his assistant, whose face had become considerably paler than before.

"And you," he said quietly, "will explain to me exactly why you thought opening a customer’s shipment without permission was acceptable."

The assistant swallowed.

Charlie decided that was probably a conversation he did not need to hear.

He stepped away from the group, brushing a little dust from his sleeve. The whole thing had happened so quickly that he had barely had time to consider what he had actually accomplished. Yet the system had apparently considered it important enough to reward him.

The younger merchant approached him before he could fully leave.

"I owe you an apology," he said. "You had no reason to involve yourself, yet you prevented me from losing the payment for an entire shipment."

Charlie waved a hand. "You don’t owe me anything."

"I disagree."

The merchant reached into his sleeve, but Charlie shook his head.

"Keep it. You have a damaged shipment to deal with."

The man hesitated before giving a small nod. "Then at least tell me your name."

"Charlie."

"And your last name ?"

"Kirk."

"Charlie Kirk," the merchant repeated, committing it to memory. "If you ever need work in Liangjing, ask for the Yun Merchant House. Someone there will know where to find me."

Charlie nodded. "I’ll remember that."

He turned and began walking, with Biggie walking after him.

Only once they had put some distance between themselves and the merchants did Charlie glance down at the pig.

"You really couldn’t have let me finish the conversation?"

Biggie snorted.

"I suppose that’s a no."

The streets of Liangjing were beginning to change as evening settled over the city. Charlie had a few things left to buy before returning. Clothes and food were still high on the list, and now that he had some money in his possession, he was beginning to think about what he actually needed rather than simply what he could afford.

He had just started looking over the nearby shops when the system appeared again.

[Return to the residence.]

Charlie frowned.

"Why?"

[Return to the residence.]

"That’s not an explanation."

The system offered none.

Charlie sighed and looked down at Biggie, who was sniffing around the base of a nearby stall.

"Fine. Let’s go."

He turned away from the shops and started walking, but after a few steps, he remembered that the woman had mentioned dinner earlier. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time. She had never told him when he was supposed to return, and Charlie hadn’t thought to ask.

Still, if the system was telling him to go back, there was probably little point in arguing.

"System, what time is it?"

[Current Local Time: Xu Hour]

"English, please."

[Current Local Time: 8:37 PM.]

His eyes widened slightly.

"Eight thirty-seven? Come on, Biggie, we gotta go."

Biggie snorted and continued along at the same leisurely pace.

Charlie stopped.

"You’re kidding."

Biggie kept walking.

Charlie hurried after him, caught up, and tried to pick him up by the middle. Biggie immediately objected, twisting in his arms and making the whole thing considerably harder than it had any right to be.

"Stop moving."

Biggie grunted.

"I’m trying to help you."

Another grunt.

"You’re not making this easier."

Charlie tightened his grip and finally managed to get the pig off the ground, but the weight of him forced Charlie to take a couple of awkward steps before he could steady himself. Carrying Biggie any real distance was clearly not going to work.

He lowered him again, breathing harder than he would have liked, and looked around for something that might make the journey easier.

A small wooden handcart stood beside one of the stalls, its two long handles resting against a post.

Charlie looked at the cart, then at Biggie.

"You’re getting in there."

Biggie stared back at him.

Charlie pulled the cart closer and, after a brief struggle, managed to lift Biggie into it. The pig shifted around once before apparently deciding that the arrangement was acceptable.

Charlie grabbed the handles.

"Good. Now hold on."

He pushed.

The cart rolled forward with a rough wooden rattle, and Charlie broke into a hurried run behind it.

Charlie pushed harder, steering the little cart through the evening crowd while trying not to run into anyone. The shops he had been planning to visit disappeared behind him one by one.

He could buy the clothes tomorrow and the food could wait.

For now, he just needed to get back before the woman wondered where he had gone.

And, judging by the pace of the cart, Charlie suspected Biggie was going to enjoy the journey far more than he was.