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Chapter 39 - A New Man

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Zhujiao all but skipped down the main street of the markets, the comforting weight of wealth in his bag.

Even hours later, he was still flush with success – escaping the slums again had been far easier than the first time, and he’d seen no sign of the two cultivators. Could they still track him? Maybe. But considering they hadn’t noticed him on the roof near the warehouse earlier, he was willing to bet it wasn’t easy.

And if they could track him easily, then there was nothing he could do about it anyway, so why worry?

He let the thought drift as he adjusted his bag, the pleasant jingle of the gold crowns inside offering reassurance. This was the turning point, the moment when his worries about food, shelter, and survival could fade into the background. For the first time in a long while, he had options.

He still had concerns, of course. For starters, learning that an Elder of the Blooming Lotus Sect wanted him brought in was far from ideal. How this Elder had even learned of him, he had no idea.

Likely, the two cultivators had reported his presence after their first encounter. Zhujiao… didn’t really know how to take the duo. The taller one, sharp-glass-wind, had seemed aggressive and more than a little arrogant, but his friend was more polite.

Not polite enough for Zhujiao to chance going with them, of course, but courteous enough that he didn’t want to burn any bridges he didn’t have to.

At least the Red Talons were behind him. He had no love for them, especially after they nearly cost him everything. But for now, he needed to move forward, not look back. One decision was easy enough—new clothes.

He glanced down at his grimy tunic and worn boots. No one would take a street urchin seriously, especially one looking to get out of the city. Coin might open doors, but appearance mattered just as much in a city like this. And right now, he looked more like a beggar than anything else.

Zhujiao started heading towards a mid-range clothing shop he had passed once before. The nineteen Gold Crowns he’d managed to snag could last him decades if he was frugal enough, but that was no excuse to spend frivolously. There was still the matter of arranging transport out of the city, after all.

That was a matter Zhujiao had spent some time considering while observing the warehouse. The city gates had grown more perilous every day, with tighter restrictions and more frequent patrols. Every checkpoint risked being shut down for quarantine, and the likelihood of someone like him, even dressed to impress, slipping through unnoticed seemed laughably slim.

Not to mention the plague spreading through the surrounding countryside—he didn’t even know which towns were still safe. A boat, on the other hand, offered a clean escape route, skimming past the checkpoints and patrols. He’d be in and out of the city with far less scrutiny, especially if he could blend in with travellers of higher status.

He looked up from examining his worn boots as his destination loomed ahead of him, windows filled with well-crafted garments – nothing extravagant, just well-made. The kind of clothes that would let him pass as just another traveller heading downriver.

He would have to make up some kind of story to explain why he was travelling alone, but one problem at a time.

The bell chimed softly as Zhujiao pushed the door open. He had barely set foot inside when the shopkeeper’s eyes locked on him. Her gaze flicked up and down, taking in the stains on his tunic and the dirt on his boots. Her lips curled, and before Zhujiao could even greet her, she snapped, “Out. We don’t serve your kind here.”

Zhujiao froze, unprepared for the sudden hostility. For a moment, he felt heat rise to his face, a hot flash of anger swirling just beneath his skin. His Qi stirred, flaring in response as his pulse quickened. “Excuse me?” he said sharply, the words leaving his mouth demandingly before he could stop them.

The shopkeeper hesitated, her eyes widening slightly at his tone. Clearly, she hadn’t expected such a response from someone in his state, and for a brief moment, her hostility faltered. Zhujiao couldn’t blame her – he was somewhat taken aback by how assertive his tone suddenly was. “I assure you, I can pay,” he winced, trying to backpedal a little. It wasn’t the end of the world if he was kicked out of the store, but it would be annoying.

There was a flicker of confusion, quickly masked, but it was enough. He could feel her recalculating, wondering if she had misjudged him. Her eyes flicked to the bag at his side, and there was a hesitation—brief but telling. Her initial contempt was still there, but it was now tempered by something else.

The silence stretched between them before she cleared her throat, smoothing her apron as if the gesture could erase the brief uncertainty. “I see,” she muttered, softer now. “What is it you’re looking for, then?”

It only took a split second for him to cotton on. ‘She thinks I’m someone important. A noble’s brat, maybe.’ He hadn’t meant to respond so aggressively, but it seemed to have worked in his favour. Best to play into the assumptions as best he could.

“Something for travel,” he said coolly, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. “Nothing fancy. Just practical.”

The shopkeeper nodded briskly, still watching him carefully as she gestured toward the shelves. Zhujiao nodded and moved calmly in the indicated direction, trying to hide his internal panic. How the hell did nobles act!?

Zhujiao stepped toward the shelves, his gaze sweeping over the rows of garments with an air of feigned indifference. He wasn’t completely out of his depth, but the prickling awareness of the shopkeeper’s eyes on his back made it difficult to focus. He reached for a tunic at random, letting his fingers brush over the fabric without really seeing it.

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It really didn’t matter what he chose as long as it was clean, presentable, and sturdy enough to get him through the next few days. A small thrill shot through him at the thought of having enough money that a purchase like this legitimately didn’t matter.

It gave him a boost of confidence as he held up a plain brown tunic and glanced back toward the shopkeeper, who was standing behind the counter, her eyes narrowed with the faintest hint of scepticism. He ignored it as best he could, moving over to where a few different styles of pants were hanging up. Again, he chose at random.

“I’ll take these,” he said, his voice steadier than he’d expected. “And a second set, just like it.”

The shopkeeper paused, glancing at his boots—dirty and nearly falling apart. There was a twitch of disapproval on her lips, but she said nothing. Instead, she moved to the rack and pulled out another identical tunic and a pair of matching trousers. “Two sets, then,” she confirmed, her tone neutral, though there was a question buried beneath it.

Zhujiao gave a sharp nod, though he kept his voice casual. “That’ll do.”

“Very well,” she said, folding the garments with swift precision and tucking them under her arm, looking him up and down appraisingly. “That will be four marks. Do you wish to change into one of them now?”

Despite his newfound wealth, Zhujiao had to fight from choking at the price. Four silver was enough to feed him for a month, and that was taking into account the surging prices due to plague. He might be rich now, but that didn’t mean he was okay with being robbed.

Before he could say anything, she continued. “Four marks, and when the guards come around asking if I’ve seen a little vagrant who recently stole a whole lot of money, my memory will be spotty.”

Zhujiao winced. Apparently, his impression of a noble brat needed work. Unsurprising, really. The shopkeeper’s price might still be robbery, but she had a point. The city guards wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before ‘confiscating’ his newfound wealth, and while he was fairly confident about being able to get away from them…

Well, it wouldn’t take long for the cultivators to come looking. There were only so many people that matched his description, after all. Zhujiao swallowed the frustration building in his chest as the shopkeeper’s smirk deepened. “Fine,” he muttered through gritted teeth, fishing out the four silver marks.

The shopkeeper took the coins with a leisurely smile, clearly satisfied with the arrangement. She looked him up and down again, her gaze lingering on his battered boots. “If you’re aiming to pass as someone of higher status,” she said, her tone carrying just a hint of mockery, “you might want to consider getting yourself better shoes. People will notice.”

Zhujiao held back the sharp retort at the tip of his tongue. She was right, of course. He couldn’t keep walking around in shoes that looked like they were about to fall apart.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, his tone clipped. The shopkeeper’s smile only widened as she handed him the clothes.

He made his way to the back of the shop, where a small changing room awaited. Once inside, he let out a long, frustrated breath. The woman might have had the upper hand, but at least he had what he needed. Zhujiao changed quickly, leaving his old tunic and trousers in a pile on the floor. A petty gesture, maybe, but it made him feel a little better.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall. The plain brown tunic and trousers were certainly an improvement—he no longer looked like he’d just crawled out of the slums. But even with the fresh clothes, his boots ruined the image. He couldn’t deny the shopkeeper had a point. With a resigned sigh, Zhujiao squared his shoulders and stepped out.

The shopkeeper didn’t even glance at the discarded clothes as he passed her, but there was a satisfied gleam in her eyes. Zhujiao ignored it, pushing the door open and stepping back into the street. The moment he was outside, he felt a small weight lift off his chest. Now that he had clothes that would let him blend in, he could focus on the next step: new boots.

He scanned the bustling street, eyes catching on a cobbler’s shop not too far down the road. Right now, he had something of a strange problem – he only had two silver marks and a handful of copper jots. Even assuming he didn’t get ripped off at the cobblers, after this, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was left with nothing but his gold crowns. Finding someone to break them into smaller denominations without attracting attention would be another challenge.

A problem for future him to deal with. Poor fool.

Fortunately, this cobbler was much more professional, though Zhujiao wasn’t sure how much of that was due to his new outfit. One mark and twelve jots later, he was the proud owner of a new pair of travelling boots.

The price had made him wince, but shoes were the sort of thing that you really shouldn’t skimp on. A good pair could last years, and there was little worse than wet feet.

Well-dressed for the first time in what felt like years, Zhujiao felt like a new man. The sort of effect it had on his mood was amazing.

Initially, he had intended to head straight to the docks, searching for captains willing to take on a solitary passenger without too many questions. That had been the practical choice, but now, dressed like someone halfway respectable, he realised something else: he could afford to wait. There was no need to rush when he had options and a heavy bag of gold at his side. Besides, a night’s rest in an actual bed sounded almost too good to pass up.

He scanned the street ahead, remembering the nearest inn he’d seen, one that catered to middle-class travellers. It wasn’t fancy, but it would be clean, comfortable, and, most importantly, a place where he could ask a few discreet questions about passage out of the city without drawing too much attention.

As he walked, his thoughts turned to his next challenge. He still needed a story to explain why he was travelling alone. Looking like a proper traveller was one thing, but in a city like this, people asked questions. Especially when a young man was travelling without any companions or clear purpose. He couldn’t just say he was wandering aimlessly—he needed a destination, a reason to be leaving the city.

‘Away from the city’ was a good start, but he needed something more specific. Somewhere far enough away that no one would question it but not so far that it seemed implausible. Maybe one of the larger river towns a few days’ journey away?

His mind turned back to the case that had changed his fortunes. The inexplicable case made of modern materials. The case that had the words ‘produced in Tiecheng’ embossed on the inside.

Part of him wanted to ignore the implications. It hadn’t taken him long after waking up in a new world to commit to the idea of a fresh start – everything was so different that he hadn’t held out any hope of making it back to the Before. Especially considering that there really wasn’t much waiting there for him anyway.

The last thing he had expected was to see something from the Before find its way to him. Although now that he thought back to it… hadn’t his mother had a plastic dish? Despite his adult mind, he really didn’t retain many memories of his early, early childhood. Really, most of it was boring enough that he didn’t pay much attention in the moment, let alone save it for later, but…

He could have sworn his mother did have a plastic dish. It was a small, random little thing that he hadn’t paid much attention to at the time. He was starting to realise that there were quite a few things he hadn’t paid attention to. Such as what his mother even did for work? What had happened to his father? Why had they lived in a town with no family, why was the only person his mother spent time around the (honorary) Auntie Hua?

Zhujiao sighed, already knowing what his goal was going to be, leaving the city.

Finding his way to this mysterious Tiecheng.

Finding his way to answers.