Chapter 774 --774

Chapter 774: Chapter-774

Stepping out of the hardware shop and back into the bustling East Market, Heena didn’t have a single heavy cast-iron wok or clay pot in her hands.

The blacksmith’s apprentices were already loading her massive culinary haul onto a sturdy handcart, preparing to deliver the goods directly to her East Market apothecary. That was the distinct, beautiful advantage of having a pocket full of official silver—manual labor was no longer her problem.

With her kitchen supplies secured and her vegetable baskets safely stowed on the cart, Heena turned her attention to the next critical item on her survival checklist.

She needed clothes.

Currently, she was still wearing the coarse, scratchy linen tunic of a slum clinic patient, hidden beneath Old Lady Lin’s borrowed black wool cloak. It didn’t matter if she was in her original modern world, a patriarchal ancient history, or this bizarre matriarchal dimension—if you wanted to rule a business empire, you could not walk around dressed like a destitute beggar. Power was an illusion built on presentation, and she needed a wardrobe that commanded immediate respect.

As she adjusted the heavy cloak and headed toward the silk and textile stalls, a familiar golden glow materialized near her left shoulder.

"Oh, Host! We are going clothes shopping!" the System chirped, the digital lion cub floating happily in the air. It gave her a cheeky, thoroughly suggestive grin. "Since we have some silver now, how about buying a few bolts of nice silk for the pretty physician too?"

Heena didn’t even break her stride. "Why the hell would I buy anything for him?" she replied mentally, her tone flat. "Do you have any idea how tight my budget still is? Why would I waste good silver on his wardrobe?"

"Come on, Host!" the System whined, doing a mid-air barrel roll. "Don’t you think you should spend at least a little money to woo Ren so he’ll actually agree to marry you?"

Heena nearly stopped walking. "And why in the heavens would I want him to actually marry me? Do you think I am that desperate for a husband?"

The golden cub blinked its big blue eyes, genuinely confused. "Wait a minute. Weren’t you the one who woke up half-dead on his examination table days ago and immediately told his mother you were taking him as your man?"

"Of course I did," Heena scoffed, stepping around a puddle in the dirt road. "I was bleeding, I was broke, and I was about to be thrown out into the street. I needed his medical skills, and I needed his mother to stop threatening me with the shop deed."

"And now you don’t need him?"

"Now I have two hundred taels of silver and a syndicate contract," Heena corrected coldly. "I don’t need to marry him. I can just hire him."

The System froze in mid-air. The digital gears in its head visibly turned as it processed the sheer, unadulterated capitalism of her logic.

"Wait," the System gasped, its fur standing on end. "Hold on. Are you telling me that the only reason you aggressively proposed to that poor boy... was because you didn’t want to pay him a salary?!"

"Do you honestly think a girl with zero coppers to her name could afford the monthly wages of a private, highly skilled physician?" Heena shot back, utterly shameless. "Of course I claimed him! A hired doctor costs twenty silver taels a month. A husband grinds herbs and changes bandages for free. Are you crazy?"

The System stared at her, its jaw dropping in sheer horror.

"Host... you are fundamentally, terrifyingly cruel," the AI whispered, floating a few inches away from her head as if her sociopathy were contagious. "I actually feel profound pity for Physician Ren. He thinks he is dealing with a fierce, romantic mafia boss, and instead, he’s just tangled up with a ruthless labor scammer!"

Heena let out a dark, raspy chuckle, her eyes sweeping over the colorful silk banners of a large clothing boutique just ahead.

"Oh, come on. Don’t waste your pity on that bastard," Heena warned, the amusement fading from her voice, replaced by a sharp, calculating edge. "Beneath that timid, pretty-boy exterior, Ren is far more dangerous than you think. Did you forget he was casually walking around the Black Alley with a sleeve full of blinding lime and blistering acid? If you want to pity anyone in this ridiculous setup, pity me."

The System crossed its glowing paws over its chest, glaring at the side of her head.

"Pity you?" the cub mumbled under its breath. "I would literally rather eat digital shit."

Heena completely ignored the System’s continued, horrified muttering buzzing in the back of her mind. She had far more important things to worry about than arguing with a digital projection that had absolutely no sense of pragmatism toward its own host.

Besides, she was going shopping for herself. The coarse, scratchy linen of the slum clinic tunic was currently chafing against the tender, healing skin of her back, and the oversized, borrowed wool cloak was stiflingly heavy. There was no way she was going to let a perfectly good opportunity to upgrade her armor go to waste just because an ungrateful glowing cub wanted to pick a fight about romance.

She navigated away from the soot-stained hardware stalls, making her way toward the textile district of the East Market. The heavy scent of forged iron and charcoal gradually gave way to the sweeter fragrances of floral incense, cedarwood chests, and fresh dye.

Let’s see what kind of fabrics they actually have here, Heena thought, scanning the storefronts.

Finding a clothing boutique wasn’t difficult. The largest one on the avenue was practically spilling out into the street, framed by towering wooden racks draped in stunning, vibrant bolts of cloth. The problem wasn’t the location. The problem was what awaited her the moment she stepped over the polished mahogany threshold.

Men. They were absolutely everywhere.

The shopkeeper standing behind the tall wooden counter was a woman, and there were a handful of female attendants carrying measuring tapes around their necks, but the overwhelming majority of the customers actively browsing the floor were men. And the place was so packed with them that Heena genuinely paused for a fraction of a second, wondering if she had accidentally walked into a private gentlemen’s parlor.

Unlike the hardware shop, where the men had been buying practical domestic goods with quiet, subdued focus, the atmosphere here was entirely different. It was loud, vibrant, and incredibly colorful.

In this matriarchal society, men were the peacocks. They were the ones expected to adorn themselves, to look beautiful, and to dress to impress the women who provided for them. The male customers fluttering around the boutique were draped in exquisitely embroidered silks. They held up bolts of luminous azure, rich saffron, and deep plum to the natural light, comparing floral patterns and silver-thread borders while gossiping animatedly with their companions.

When Heena’s heavy boots stepped onto the polished floorboards, the lively chatter near the entrance abruptly faltered.

Several men paused mid-sentence, lowering their silk fans to look at her in utter confusion. It wasn’t just that she was a woman in a clothing shop—though women usually sent their servants to fetch their garments—it was her appearance. Amidst a sea of delicate pastels and shimmering silk, Heena stood tall in her faded, weather-beaten black wool cloak, looking entirely out of place