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Chapter 32 - Shelter and Scraps
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Zhujiao slipped into the park, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. As far as places to lay low went, a public park was hardly ideal, but it wasn’t like he was flush with options.
The fact that the city even had public parks was a little bit odd – he’d thought the idea for that kind of thing had originally been a European thing, not whatever flavour of East Asia this new world was.
Then again, he was hardly an expert on urban development through the ages, not to mention that they didn’t have people throwing around fireballs in the Before.
Not that he knew about, anyway.
The point was that he shouldn’t expect things to be exactly the same, developmentally. From what little he knew, Qi already threw out most of the laws of physics he was familiar with anyway, so getting upset about the development of public spaces was a waste of time.
The part he really cared about was that people were less likely to bother him in the park, and in a pinch, he could sleep under the cover of the bushes.
Hopefully, anyway.
Zhujiao quickly found a secluded spot beneath a large tree, its thick branches providing a semblance of shelter. Sinking down against the rough bark, he allowed himself a brief moment to relax. The adrenaline that had driven him through the crowded streets had ebbed, leaving behind an exhausted weariness that weighed heavily on his limbs.
His hands were throbbing painfully, and he winced as he looked over the bandages messily tied over his injuries, already soaked through with blood.
Maybe hastily wrapping them up on the go hadn’t been the best option. Mainly because he didn’t exactly have resources to spare – chances were the medical supplies he had on him were the only ones he would have access to for quite some time.
He knew that healers were generally quite expensive, which is why it was so surprising that Lao Yi had set up in the slums, but he didn’t know what expensive actually meant. A few Silver Marks? Gold Crowns? Anything more than about 50 copper he really couldn’t afford right now – the money he had found at the clinic would last him a while, but only if he was exceedingly frugal.
Good thing he had other options then.
Zhujiao took a deep breath, closing his eyes and focusing inward. He began to channel his Qi, directing it towards his injuries in the way Lao Yi had shown him before leaving.
A wave of tingly itchiness spread from his palms up to his elbows, almost like his hands had fallen asleep. It was significantly more sensation than he had felt while healing his bruises from the Red Talons… this morning?
He blinked, surprised despite himself. In the moment, everything felt so significant that he sort of hadn’t realised that it had been less than 12 hours since his master had left.
Zhujiao shook his head, pushing the thought away. Dwelling on the passage of time wouldn’t do him any good, especially not when his body was screaming for rest and his stomach was beginning to twist with hunger. He refocused, guiding the Qi more deliberately through his hands.
The tingling sensation intensified, spreading outwards until it felt like tiny needles were prickling his skin. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was a sign that the healing process was working.
Hopefully, anyway. He was fairly sure he wasn’t giving himself an exotic form of cancer. Considering that had been a concern from day one and he hadn’t seen anything to support it, he felt somewhat confident in saying it was safe.
As the Qi worked, Zhujiao became increasingly aware of how hungry he was. It wasn’t until the growling of his stomach had grown completely impossible to ignore that he realised there was something unusual about it. Clearly, using Qi to heal himself had a hidden cost.
Made sense, really – or at least it made as much sense as anything Qi-related did. Presumably, healing consumed calories somehow, which normally wouldn’t be too much of a problem.
Of course, considering his current financial situation, it was actually a rather large problem.
With a frustrated sigh, Zhujiao let the flow of Qi taper off, cutting the healing short. His palms were still tender, but as far as he could tell the bleeding had slowed, and the worst of the pain had dulled to a manageable throb. It would have to do for now.
He gently clenched his hand into a fist, testing the range of motion. Fortunately, it appeared that he hadn’t damaged his hands too badly, so with a bit of luck, if he managed to keep his hands somewhat clean over the next few days there wouldn’t be any complications.
Standing up, he glanced around the park, his eyes settling on a small food stall in the distance. The scent of grilled meat drifted towards him, and his mouth watered in response. It wasn’t exactly the most luxurious option, but it would keep him from passing out from hunger.
As he approached, he took in the sight of the vendor, an older man with a deeply lined face and a perpetual scowl. The smell of grilled meat was stronger up close, and Zhujiao’s mouth watered as he stepped up to the counter, rummaging around his coin pouch.
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Hopefully, this wouldn’t be too expensive – tomorrow, he would have to look into buying some cheap ingredients, but for now he was too hungry to wait. Besides, after the day he’d had, he figured he’d earned a little reward.
“One skewer and a loaf of bread,” Zhujiao said, his voice betraying his hunger.
The old man didn’t even look up as he tossed a skewer onto the grill, the meat sizzling loudly. “That’ll be seven jots.”
Zhujiao blinked, certain he had misheard. “Seven copper?” he repeated, incredulous. “For one skewer and a loaf?”
The man finally glanced up, his scowl deepening. “You got cotton in your ears, boy? Prices have gone up. Be lucky I’m not charging you more.”
“More?” Zhujiao couldn’t believe his ears. Granted, he usually bought his food from the slums – it might be lower quality, but it was significantly cheaper – but the price difference wasn’t that high. A meal like this would cost three or four copper at most in the slums, and he’d expected it to be at most five copper. Seven was practically daylight robbery.
The vendor huffed, shovelling the bread into a basket and tossing it onto the counter with a thud. “Where’ve you been hiding, kid? Haven’t you heard about the plague?”
Zhujiao felt a cold chill run down his spine. “Plague?”
“Yeah, plague,” the vendor grumbled, turning the skewer with a practised flick of his wrist. “Been spreading through the countryside like wildfire. People are fleeing to the city, driving up demand for everything. Food, water, medicine—it’s all in short supply. Prices are through the roof.” He glanced at Zhujiao’s ragged clothes and narrowed his eyes.
“And then there are the gangs, making everything worse by kicking up a fuss and stirring up trouble wherever they can.” The man turned and spat viciously on the ground. “Doing their best to ruin life for the rest of us. The city guard has been cracking down, but of course, they only care about the Nobles and the rich. They’ll leave the rest of us to rot, no doubt.”
Zhujiao blinked, taken aback by the vitriol in the vendor’s tone. Clearly, the man had opinions. He also didn’t miss the narrow-eyed look the man had given him. His outfit was already drawing attention, but it wasn’t an issue Zhujiao was in a position to deal with right now.
The news about the Red Talons expanding their influence was more immediately troubling. If they were using the chaos to their advantage, it would only make things more dangerous for him.
He was drawn from his thoughts by the vendor clearing his throat meaningfully. “I’ll be taking a look at those coins now, boy,” he said.
Zhujiao hesitated, glancing over at the meat still sizzling away on the grill and a few minutes from being ready. Usually, payment was only made once the food was actually ready, and he wasn’t sure if this was a case of the man wanting to make sure he was able to pay, or wanting to try and rip him off.
“Bo! Bo, you old coot, did I just hear you spit again!?” An old woman’s voice called from the building behind the stall, and the vendor hunched slightly, a hunted look in his eye.
“You didn’t see anything,” the vendor, apparently named Bo, warned Zhujiao before an old woman tottered out of the door and glared viciously at the man.
“Don’t even think of denying it!” the woman continued, shuffling forward and waving a fist at him angrily, “I know what I heard!”
“I’m not surprised,” Bo muttered, “you’ve got the ears of a bat.”
“What was that?” the woman asked sweetly, eyes flashing.
Bo froze like a deer spotting a hungry lion. “Nothing, dear,” he said nervously, “I was just talking to this… fine young man,” he gestured at Zhujiao, who had the sudden feeling he was being thrown under the wheels of a bus.
He glanced between Bo and the old woman, weighing his options. He had no intention of being dragged into… whatever this was. He shifted slightly, hoping to inch away unnoticed, but Bo shot him a look that clearly said to stay put.
“Oh? And what were you trying to do to the poor boy?” the old woman asked, turning her sharp eyes on Zhujiao. “You trying to pull one over on him, Bo? Overcharge him like you do everyone else?”
Bo bristled even as his face flushed in embarrassment. “Don’t say those things in front of customers, Lan! Why do you always do this to me, you troublesome old bag? I’m trying to make an honest living here!”
Lan’s eyes flared. “Old bag? Old bag!? You didn’t think I was an old bag when you married me! Besides, an honest living? You wouldn’t know honesty if it jumped up and bit you on the nose!”
Zhujiao took a small step back. He could go without food for a day or two, right? Fasting was supposed to be quite slimming, he’d heard. The vendor’s wife caught the small motion out of the corner of her eye and swung to face him.
He tried to keep the panic from his face.
She turned to face him fully, her expression softening just slightly. “Seven copper, was it?” she asked, her tone deceptively sweet. “I think five copper sounds much more reasonable, don’t you?”
Before Zhujiao could respond, Bo spluttered, “Five copper? That barely covers the cost of the meat!”
“Five copper,” Lan repeated firmly, glaring at her husband. “Or do I need to tell everyone in the neighbourhood how you tried to rob a poor boy blind?”
Bo’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed in defeat. “Fine, five copper,” he muttered, holding out his hand begrudgingly.
Zhujiao wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he wasn’t about to argue with the outcome. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, nodding gratefully to Lan.
Lan waved a hand dismissively. “Just don’t let this one try to swindle you again,” she said, shooting Bo a pointed look.
Bo grumbled something under his breath but took the money without further complaint. He retrieved the skewer from the grill, the meat now perfectly charred, and handed it to Zhujiao along with the loaf of bread. “Enjoy,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t particularly hopeful.
With his food in hand, Zhujiao bowed slightly to them both, mumbling his thanks again before he quickly turned and made his way back into the park. As he walked away, he heard Lan’s voice rising again, already berating Bo for his pricing practices. He didn’t stick around to listen to the rest.
Finally reaching the large tree where he had initially taken refuge, Zhujiao sat down and unwrapped the skewer, savouring the smell of grilled meat. It had been a strange encounter, but at least he had managed to get his meal for a fair price.
That said, it didn’t bode well for his future. He only had a few silver left, along with a handful of copper. Normally, that would be enough to support him for at least a few days, possibly as much as a few weeks depending on how much he splurged on luxuries such as a place to sleep.
Now, though… he needed to get some kind of income, and fast.
Easier said than done, especially as a homeless orphan with no real skills. He couldn’t even access the half of the city that would be willing to overlook that kind of thing, for fear of the Red Talons jumping him.
He sighed, focusing on the meal in front of him. There was nothing he could do about it right now, and at the very least, he could afford to take a day or two to think things over.
Finishing his meal, he found a patch of ground beneath another tree, well hidden from view by a thick cluster of bushes. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it offered some degree of shelter, and more importantly, it was secluded. He settled in, leaning back against the trunk, and allowed himself to relax, just a little.
At least the weather was temperate enough that he wasn’t going to get hypothermia.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he tried to let the tension drain from his body. The cool air, the faint rustle of leaves, and the distant sounds of the city gradually lulled him into a light, uneasy sleep.
Tomorrow, he would figure out his next move. But tonight, he would take what little rest he could and hope that it would be enough to carry him through whatever challenges awaited him at dawn.