Then he became lighter, bobbing up and down in the air. The sunlight shining in from the window turned into surging seawater, and the papers and notebooks on the table that were soaked in it became a mass of white.
An Zhe blinked. He didn't feel uncomfortable, only that all of his movements had become very, very slow and uncertain. He couldn't control his own body. It was like he had taken flight, yet also like he was on the verge of falling.
And after that—the world before his eyes gradually darkened, and he completely lost consciousness.
----------------------------------------
The cold woke him up. After awakening, he discovered that the unbroken backdrop of gray buildings outside the window was immersed in the red-gold glow of the setting sun. Since he had fallen asleep—or rather fainted—at least seven or eight hours had passed. It turned out that the poison in his hyphae made people lethargic.
Unlike the daytime, the temperature in the room was much lower in the evening. An Zhe lay back on the bed and wrapped himself in the quilt, only then recovering his warmth. But after the numbness brought on by the cold disappeared, he felt hungry.
An Zhe preferred to absorb nutrients the way mushrooms did, but on his way here, he didn't find even a single patch of damp soil in the entire base, so he could only eat food. Frowning, he thought that humans were a very troublesome sort of creature.
Fortunately, An Ze's residual memories told him where he should go to eat. The base was divided into eight districts, with Districts 6, 7, and 8 serving as the main residential districts. Here, every building was a community. The first floor was the main hall, where water and food would be provided every day at fixed times. Children sixteen years old and under received free allotments, while adults over sixteen years old needed to swipe their card to pay with the base's currency, the unit of which was the letter R.
The main hall didn’t have too many people, perhaps fifty-some visible at a glance. There were only two windows for selling food. One was an edible paste made from the tuber of a certain plant, while the other was... a soup made from the same tuber. Searching his memories, he vaguely recalled that this plant was called "potato".
An Zhe swiped his card to pay.
Mashed potatoes—price 0.5R, balance 9.5R.
Potato soup—price 0.3R, balance 9.2R.
As he stared at the number representing the balance on the card, An Zhe realized that he would be on the edge of starvation in a few days. The feeling was like that of a mushroom taking root in a patch of dry soil, facing death at any given moment.
When he returned to the fifth floor after his meal and spent 0.1R to get water at the communal water room, the feeling became even clearer.
Thus, he now had one more thing to do: find a source of income.
After screwing shut the standard stainless steel bottle's cap, An Zhe held the bottle in his hand and was about to turn around when a voice suddenly rang out behind him.
"An Ze?"
The loud voice, trembling somewhat, echoed in the cramped space.
An Zhe turned around.
Standing in the corridor was a young man with a tall build and handsome face. He looked straight at An Zhe with eyes wide open and lips quivering; it was difficult to decide if his expression was actually joy or shock.
"An Ze?" he called out again. "You've... returned? Didn't you—?"
At those words, he abruptly lost his voice and his complexion turned blue. It was like he didn't know how to continue.
But An Zhe knew what he wanted to say because he knew this person. He was called Josh.
Josh was An Ze's neighbor and friend, and they had grown up together. Sometimes Josh would take care of An Ze, but more often, An Ze would take care of him—those spotty residual memories appeared before An Zhe's eyes.
But his knowledge of Josh didn't all come from An Ze's recollections. When he was a mushroom, he had seen this person before. The combination of what he had seen and An Ze's memories supplied the entire real cause of An Ze's death.
An Ze had been someone who lived off of writing. His work was to write novels, essays, and poems for the people's entertainment and submit them to the Base Monthly periodical, and the base would regularly publish these pamphlets. But just three months prior, to conserve the increasingly-stretched manpower and resources, the base abolished that department.
Back then—
"An Ze, what are you reading?" Josh asked.
"I want to prepare for the base supply depot's selection exam." An Ze doodled circles on the book with his pen. "I think I'll like the work there, and the pay is good."
But Josh frowned.
"You want to stop being a civilian?" he asked. "The exam is very difficult."
An Ze said, "That’s fine."
But Josh’s voice became harsher. "An Ze, you've clearly known all this time that I want to be able to go out into the wilderness with you."
An Ze smiled. The tone of his voice was very soft, both like he was indulging this headstrong friend and also like a resigned sigh. "I'm not suited to going outside."
"I'll protect you." Josh held him by the shoulder, and the tone of his voice softened. "I can't leave you. Come with me into the wilderness. We won't go anywhere dangerous."
The fragments in his memories were more or less all like this. At last, in the face of Josh's relentless badgering, An Ze had agreed to go adventuring in the wilderness together with him. Josh was a member of a large mercenary team. Having previously performed some meritorious deeds, he very easily introduced An Ze to the team, where the latter was responsible for the allocation and record-keeping of their materials.
But anything could happen in the wilderness. That day, the team had gotten lost and driven into the fringes of the Abyss. By the time they noticed the unusual abundance of mushrooms there, it was already too late. The monsters of the Abyss wouldn't let slip any food that came to their mouths.
To humans, even the outermost fringes of the Abyss were mortally terrifying. Three of the five armored cars were damaged, and the people of those three cars transferred over to the intact armored cars in a panic. When they were fleeing, An Ze had pushed Josh, allowing him to narrowly escape the attacks from airborne winged monsters, but An Ze consequently tripped over the vines on the ground.
Josh had frozen up on the spot for a second. After that second passed, his survival instinct surpassed everything else. Between pulling An Ze up and fleeing with his own life, he chose the latter, gritting his teeth and sprinting forward before the captain pulled him into the armored car—whereas An Ze was watching their figures, having been stabbed through the chest by a monster's bony spur.
The mercenary team promptly began fighting with the monsters using their heaviest firepower, retreating as they fought. The sounds of their activity were so loud that they woke up An Zhe—he had come out to look for his spore, but he had always gone home empty-handed. This time was an exception. Taking advantage of the fierce fighting, he quietly brought An Ze back with him to the depths of the cave.
So now that he was facing Josh, An Zhe had nothing to say. When facing death, the first reaction of any living being was to flee. Josh didn't do anything wrong, but An Zhe didn't like him.
"You... kinda don't seem like yourself." Josh's Adam's apple bobbed hard. "Your wound healed? You escaped from the Abyss?"
An Zhe only looked calmly at him.
"No, you're not An Ze. You aren't human." Josh took an abrupt step backwards, his face chalk-white. "You're a xenogenic."
"My apologies." An Zhe walked out, brushing past him. "I accidentally ate a poisonous mushroom, so I don't remember who you are."
In a way, he hadn't lied.
With those words, An Zhe ceased paying attention to him and walked straight forward.
For a long time, there were no footsteps behind him. It was only when he swiped his ID card to open the door that Josh hurried over and grabbed his shoulder. "You're really An Ze? But you—"
An Zhe casually picked up the genetic examination report lying on the table and held it out to Josh.
Josh said, "This is..."
An Zhe looked down and discovered that the topmost page read "OPPOSE THE ARBITER'S TYRANNY".
He slowly pulled the paper away. Josh looked at the report.
"You..." He skimmed over it, then looked up at An Zhe. "You really escaped from the Abyss?"
"I was saved," An Zhe said. "I've forgotten the rest."
Josh's hand that was holding the gene report trembled. Then the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, revealing a smile as he looked at An Zhe. "I... I was too agitated. I didn't think that you could come back."
He put the gene report on the table and leaned towards An Zhe with a slightly excited expression. Even the muscles at the ends of his eyebrows were twitching. "How much... have you forgotten?"
An Zhe took a step back.
"I've forgotten everything," he said. "Please don't bother me."
"You don't remember who I am either?" Josh lowered his voice a bit. "We grew up together."
"Thank you," An Zhe said. "Can you please get out now?"
"I—" Josh, obviously not expecting that An Zhe would treat him with this kind of attitude, was stunned. He said, "You weren't like this before."
But a moment later, his attitude softened again. "I won't bother you. Have a good rest, and I'll come to see you tomorrow. I'm overjoyed. An Ze, we're the people closest to each other in the world."
An Zhe remained silent up until when Josh turned around and left, softly shutting the door for him.
For Josh to let him off this easily and leave the room, An Zhe thought it was unrealistic, but it was also possible that Josh had fled due to his excessive sense of guilt.
Silence returned to the room. An Zhe slowly leaned against the bed and hugged the pillow, feeling a sadness that was like wispy smoke. This sadness wasn't for himself, but for An Ze.
The promises between humans were more or less this fragile; Josh would no longer be the person closest to An Ze. Once he found his spore, he would return to the Abyss, find that quiet cave, take root next to An Ze's snow-white bones, and spend the rest of his life as a mushroom.
----------------------------------------
... His spore.
----------------------------------------
Outside the window, the night was dark, and the aurora fluctuated in the pitch-black skies as usual. An Zhe sat at the table and turned on the desk lamp.
First of all, he had to find a job so he wouldn't starve to death. At the same time, he had to search for information related to his spore, and his only lead was that brass bullet shell.
At that thought, An Zhe anxiously touched his pocket. He was in constant fear of losing it—good, it was still there. He could hide it within his body as a mushroom, but not as a human. It was so small that it seemed able to slip out from his pocket at any given moment.
In the end, An Zhe found a black leather cord from one of the drawers in the room and hung the bullet shell around his neck.
There was a small black device in the drawer as well. He examined its exterior details with great effort, then found some information from his memories at last. This was a communicator, and every person's ID number was their communicator number. Humans used them for long-distance communication, but it was limited to within the base only—because there was no signal outside.
He charged the communicator. Although he didn't need it, this "having power" thing seemed to be able to make humans feel great joy.
After doing so, he finally calmed down and began to examine the desk.
In the notebooks on the table were things An Ze had written. The handwriting was very beautiful. On the side next to the wall stood twenty-odd books, most likely all of which An Ze used to enjoy reading. An Zhe glanced over the titles on the book spines, then reached out and picked up a crudely-bound book with a gray cover named Base Handbook.
He flipped it open. There was only one sentence on the title page.
Humankind's interests take precedence over all else.
An Zhe unconsciously pursed his lips and continued flipping through it. The second page was the table of contents. The entire handbook was divided into four sections: the base's laws, the base's lifestyle regulations, summaries of the areas' functions, and maps.
An Zhe skipped over the laws section. He knew that he was a law-abiding mushroom, and a law-abiding mushroom would not violate the laws of any species. The lifestyle regulations section explained the work and rest times of the residential areas in detail. Power, water, and food were supplied for an hour starting from 6 a.m. and noon every day. Dinner was supplied at 6 p.m., and power was supplied for a little longer, not getting cut off until 9 p.m. Every residential area was equipped with tall alarm towers, and the alarms were divided into three types: "assembly", "evacuation", and "take shelter". The assembly alarm was a brief high-pitched sound, the evacuation alarm was a wave-like signal, and the take shelter alarm was a shrill wail. The base's residents had to abide by the lifestyle regulations and alarm tower instructions, but they could manage the other aspects of their lives by themselves.
At that point, An Zhe felt slightly confused. He thought that under such regulations, every person only had to lie in their room and come out at fixed times to eat and drink—but he very quickly realized the base's intentions.
Although every person could live how they liked, paying the costs of living in the base was mandatory. To obtain the currency that circulated throughout the base, people had to either find a job or become mercenaries and hand over valuable materials they collected in the wilderness to the base in exchange for payment.
But... in that case, everyone could simply go to the places with the lowest danger levels, grab something at random, and have enough for food and water.
An Zhe kept flipping the pages. The next section was the summaries of the areas' functions.
The first area in this section was called "Supply Depots", and they were numbered 1, 2, and 3. The first two belonged to the military, were constructed at the entrance and exit of the base, and were responsible for the appraisal and exchange of currency and combat preparation materials. Whenever a mercenary team came back from the wilderness, the supply depot workers would calculate the money to be disbursed based on the materials they gathered, and the remaining lethal weaponry and armored cars would be taken into their custody, barred from entering the city. Only when the mercenary team set out again would they be able to apply for their usage once more. The mercenary teams exchanged the currency for the guns, bullets, armor, fuel, and other necessities for exploring the wilderness, and they could even buy different types of armored cars.
Unlike the other two supply depots, Supply Depot 3 was located within the city. It was responsible for the exchange of civilian materials and used the base's currency. There, one could exchange for many goods such as daily necessities, food and ingredients, hard liquor, and electronics, or even carry out housing transactions.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Across from Supply Depot 3 was the "free market". Sometimes, what the mercenary teams obtained from human ruins were not materials the military needed, so they could then bring the goods confirmed to be safe into the city and trade them freely.
At that moment, An Zhe saw a small annotation below.
Note: The free market is not an authorized facility of the base. All actions are taken at your own risk.
Note: Employment and contractual relationships established through the free market are not subject to legal protection by the base. Proceed at your own risk.
There wasn't much else. An Zhe focused on the lone word "employment".
In other words, the free market was also a place where jobs could be provided.
Even further down were the summaries of each residential area. The crowded residential areas were Area 6 and Area 7. The other areas had vacant buildings and very few humans. Area 8 was a centralized shelter with perfect safety facilities.
Past even that was the summary of the Trial Court.
An Zhe recalled the Colonel with the cold green eyes, and his reading speed slowed down greatly as he began to read every single word.
The responsibilities of the Trial Court did not only include identifying xenogenics at the city gate. They also conducted daily patrols in the crowded parts of the city to carry out secondary screenings and eliminate hidden threats. The main patrol points were the areas around the supply depots, but they would also check the residential buildings on occasion—especially the ones with humans exhibiting abnormal behavior or who have been reported.
Strangely, An Zhe once again recalled the words "you'd best be".
If he could, An Zhe hoped that Lu Feng would stay at the city gate forever and that the Arbiter would not need to stoop to coming to the residential buildings.
He continued flipping the pages. The other areas weren't of much relevance to him—such as the City Affairs Office, the City Defense Agency, the main city, and so on. The handbook stated that the base was composed of the outer city, otherwise called the Fortress, and the main city. The main city was where the base's important scientific research and arms facilities were located as well as its energy and political center. Entry was prohibited to all unless one held a special pass or residence permit.
Finally, after glancing over the map of the base, An Zhe closed the book. He realized once more that humans were a different sort of living thing from mushrooms.
The second book he opened was called Supply Depot Assessment Guidebook. As soon as he saw its cover, the relevant memories surged to the forefront of his mind, much clearer than his other memories. An Zhe thought that perhaps this meant that going to the supply depot was something very important to An Ze.
Since that was the case, why did he agree to go out into the wilderness with Josh?
He pondered it for a long time. In the end, he thought that An Ze was just that kind of human.
An Ze had missed the exam. This year's supply depot recruitment exam was held fifteen days ago. At that time, he was already a set of white bones.
But it was all right, An Zhe thought. A year from now, when the supply depot recruited people again, he would go give it a try if he was still living in the human base at that time. This way, after returning to the cave, he could tell An Ze what it was like there.
Reading for a long time used up much of his energy. After trying to read two pages of the Assessment Guidebook, An Zhe started getting drowsy. In the end, he got into bed and slept. The next morning, in order to avoid running into Josh, he left his room at 4 a.m., then went downstairs to the transportation stop and got onto the train heading towards the supply depot—he wanted to go to the free market across from it to find a job.
It was 7 a.m. when he got off the train, and wisps of white mist still suffused the air. The free market was a large round building with four entrances, and he entered through the closest one.
The smell of liquor invaded his nose.
Set up near the entrance were four long tables where people dressed as mercenaries were playing drinking games and talking loudly. Cups of alcohol sat in front of them, and every so often, someone would ask for a top-up. When that happened, the waiter would pour out a refill, then take out a small device and stick it onto the ID cards the guests held out to charge them.
A burly, dark-skinned mercenary was drinking alone. Upon seeing An Zhe, the mercenary wiggled his eyebrows, grinned, and waved the cup in his hand. "Whatcha looking at, kid? Wanna come over and learn how to drink?"
A short-haired woman next to him promptly elbowed him in the chest. Her voice was husky but brimming with good cheer. "Article 32, minors are not allowed to drink alcohol."
The man said, "If he drinks, then so be it. Or would he be taken away by the Arbiter?"
The woman laughed openly. "Children not yet of age don't know the power of the Arbiter."
"He'll know soon enough."
An Zhe stood nearby, wishing to tell them "I'm not a minor," but while he thought about how to word it, the two of them embraced each other, lips pressed against lips as they became entangled. He realized that nobody genuinely cared about him.
Thus, he shifted his gaze away from that spot and looked somewhere else.
The aroma of potato soup drifted over from the right side of the entrance, but it was much stronger compared to that of the potato soup provided at the main hall on the residential building’s first floor and mixed with a pleasant meaty scent. A mercenary had his head in a white plastic soup bowl as he ate his breakfast.
This smell made An Zhe feel a little hungry, for he hadn't eaten breakfast.
Further inside were similar scenes, and a boisterous atmosphere permeated the hall. Apart from the long tables selling food and alcohol, there were also many booths selling clothes, backpacks, and gloves. Even further inside, the stalls selling regular goods decreased in number; a single stall would have many strange odds and ends that An Zhe couldn't recognize.
"Newly unearthed smartphone from Ghost City 511—you can turn it on once it has power." As An Zhe walked, a youth clothed in black and carrying a backpack jumped out in front of him like a monkey. He was short and scrawny, with narrow-set eyes that constantly darted about. The moment he stopped An Zhe, he whipped out a black, rectangular object from his bag and waved it in front of An Zhe. "Wanna take a look? I'll give you a ten percent discount and throw in a free charging cable. You can play games on it."
An Zhe said, "Thank you, but no."
The youth then whipped out a white one from his bag. "How about a different version? The color suits you. It's a new model, you know, the final Apple model from before the Era of Calamity. They sold for 10,000R back then, but now just 100R is enough."
An Zhe said, "Thank you, but I don't need it."
But that person continued by taking out something else. "You don't need it? You have a cell phone, huh? Do you need a portable charger? When power is out at the base, you can use this to charge. I've sold out of the large capacity ones. This one can only be charged twice, so I'll give you a discount, only 30R."
As An Zhe looked at him, he said honestly, "I don't have money."
The black-clad youth's expression froze. In an instant, he put everything back into his backpack, turned around, and got ready to leave, muttering, "What'd you come to the black market for if you don't have money?"
"Wait," An Zhe called out, stopping him.
He turned his head, but his attitude was extremely negative. "What?"
"I... want to get a job," An Zhe said. "Do you know where I have to go?
The youth frowned, turned back around, and examined him carefully from head to toe. "... So you came to find work."
An Zhe truthfully replied, "Yes."
"Your natural assets are quite good," the youth said. "Once you have money, remember to come and buy a cell phone from me. I'll be staying at the black market this entire month."
After a moment’s silence, An Zhe asked, "Where do I go?"
"Oh, that way." The youth pointed towards one of the corners. "Go down. Third underground floor, ask for the lady boss."
Feeling very grateful, An Zhe smiled at him. "Thank you."
The youth said, "You’re good-looking, so find someone reliable. Once you're rich, remember to come find me and buy a cell phone!"
"... Okay," An Zhe replied.
----------------------------------------
Third underground floor.
Humid—that was An Zhe's first impression of the place. Mushrooms ought to like this type of moisture-laden atmosphere, but the acrid odor that came with the humidity made him frown.
Looking around, An Zhe saw that beneath the dim lighting, it was a honeycomb-like space with a corridor that zigged and zagged. Countless narrow compartments were built into the walls with simple plastic boards. There was no air circulation, and the water vapor condensed into numerous droplets on the plastic boards. The entire space emitted a slight tide-like hum; upon listening carefully, An Zhe realized it was from the aggregation and reverberation of many people speaking softly, mixed with occasional shrieks of laughter.
An Zhe hesitated briefly, then took a few steps forward.
He looked at the small compartments on both sides. The one on the left was empty, but there was a long-haired woman with her head bowed in the one on the right. After hearing his footsteps, she lifted her head to take a look, then bowed it again.
An Zhe continued forward. He heard the sound of dialogue, with the first speaker being female.
"How was the weather in Basin 2?"
"Not bad." This time, it was a low and soft male voice, a bit sticky and drawn out at the end. An Zhe suspected that his nose was clogged. "The weather was very comfortable, but there were too many earthquakes. We experienced three earthquakes in a month. The worst time, they were all outside while I was alone in the car. I had almost assumed that they couldn't make it back."
The female voice laughed. "If they couldn't make it back, then drive the car away."
"That team from the time before last, the captain said he'd teach me to drive, but it was all just sweet talk. He said next time he'd still bring me along, but that was sweet talk too. I accompanied them for a month for only 300R altogether. Is that still costly?"
"Don’t take the mercenaries' words seriously," a woman said. "You haven't gotten used to being tricked yet?"
An Zhe stopped walking.
—He recalled Hosen's face and greedy, covetous eyes and suddenly knew what was going on with the work on the third underground floor.
Along with the sentence in the Base Handbook: Employment and contractual relationships established through the free market are not subject to legal protection by the base. Proceed at your own risk.
He didn't want to bear these consequences.
An Zhe silently planned to leave, but just as he turned around, he unexpectedly collided into a soft body.
"Oh," a high-pitched female voice said. "Little darling, is this your first time here?"
The shadow that the words "little darling" cast over him was too dark. An Zhe reflexively took two steps back.
Before him was a tall woman with honey-colored skin, upturned blue eyes, and long brown hair that ended in ringlets. She was smiling at him.
"Are you buying someone? Or selling yourself?" the woman asked, smiling as she blew into his ear.
"Neither." An Zhe took another step back and bumped into plastic board. "I went the wrong way."
"Went the wrong way?" the woman asked. "The second floor is the gambling den. You wanted to go there?"
She was holding a cigarette between the fingers of her right hand. After putting it up to her red lips and taking a drag, she said with a smile, "Take care to not lose yourself."
An Zhe looked around, but the woman had forced him into a corner, so he couldn't get away. This gorgeous-looking human was even more difficult to deal with than the monsters of the Abyss.
"Don't be scared." She blew out a mouthful of snow-white smoke. "I'm not going to eat you."
An Zhe asked, "Then can you please let me leave?"
The woman smiled again.
"Leave?" She raised her eyebrows. "Only people who are driven into a corner come to the third floor. If you leave, where else can you go?"
As she spoke, she took him by the shoulder and pulled him forward. "Are you scared of this place? You don't need to be here. I'll give you a large room."
"Thank you," An Zhe said with his head down. "But I really did go the wrong way."
"Hm?"
"I just want to find a regular job," he said. "Then someone told me to come to the third underground floor."
"Only the aboveground floor of the black market is presentable." After listening to his words, the woman blinked, the look in her eyes just like drifting smoke. "You don't even know that?"
An Zhe said, "I know now."
He also learned that the "free market" in the Base Handbook was known informally as the black market.
"The laws of the base don't protect the black market." The woman smoked as she leaned against the wall, no longer pressing An Zhe into the corner but rather leaving a space.
An Zhe assumed it was a signal that she was going to let him out, but just as he took a step forward, he saw two tall men dressed in black step out from behind her, one on the left and one on the right, sealing off all possible paths.
"Once they've come to the third floor, nobody can leave." The woman's voice was no longer syrupy-sweet and charming, but suffused with frost. "But you're rather lucky."
An Zhe lifted his head to look at her.
"I'll give you one chance," she said. "Mr. Shaw's workshop is lacking manpower. If he wants you, you'll go with him. If he doesn't want you—"
Her words stopped mid-sentence, and she turned to walk in a certain direction. "Come."
An Zhe stood in place and thought for three seconds, then walked deeper inside with her.
The compartments were so densely packed together that it was like he was walking in a maze built from honeycomb, with the lighting getting dimmer and dimmer.
Finally, at the end of this space, a door appeared on the gray wall.
The woman knocked on the door. "Mr. Shaw, I have business to discuss with you."
With a creak, the door opened.
Inside was an old man with a head of snow-white hair and dressed in black from head to toe, a bow tie around his neck. He examined the woman with narrowed eyes. "Doussay, how rare of you to visit."
With a smile, the woman finished smoking her cigarette and stubbed it out on the wall. "I was looking for you for something."
"How big is the business?" The man called "Mr. Shaw" looked at her, then turned to look at An Zhe.
The woman—Doussay—rested her elbow on An Zhe's shoulder. "Not big, just difficult. I feared you wouldn't agree, so I specially brought you a greeting gift—I heard your apprentice drank himself to death and that you're looking for the next one. If female, you think they're ugly. If male, they're usually clumsy. Take a look at this kid of mine."
Mr. Shaw's gray-blue eyes rolled, landing on An Zhe. "Looks obedient."
"He actually is obedient." Doussay tossed her hair. "I thought you'd like him as soon as I laid eyes on him, Mr. Shaw."
Mr. Shaw smiled.
Then he said to An Zhe, "Hold out your hand, let me take a look."
An Zhe held out a hand. His fingers were slim and white with a dusting of pink.
"Doussay, where'd you get him from?" Mr. Shaw asked. "How could this type of kid be willing to come to the third floor?"
"I tricked him here," Doussay replied.
An Zhe was speechless.
Then he heard Mr. Shaw say to him, "Make a fist, but slowly."
An Zhe slowly curled his fingers.
"Once more, even slower."
An Zhe slowed down.
"Even slower."
In the end, An Zhe had slowed down so much that his movements were difficult to detect with the naked eye. Although he didn't know why Mr. Shaw wanted this, it was no challenge for him. When he was in mushroom form, he had to control thousands upon thousands of minute hyphae at the same time, whereas now he only had five human fingers.
At last, even Doussay was drawn in.
"Mr. Shaw, you've picked up a treasure," she said, lighting up another cigarette. "His hands are even more steady than your last apprentice's."
As Mr. Shaw watched his hand, he let out a laugh and said, "Let me borrow him for a few days. If he's useful, I'll keep him."
Doussay said, "You have to give the kid a wage."
"Deal," Mr. Shaw replied.
An Zhe frowned. He did need a wage, but upon hearing the word "useful", he felt that he was in a bit of danger.
"Don't be scared. Although Mr. Shaw truly isn't a good person"—Doussay, seeming to have seen through his worries, patted him on the shoulder—"his crafts are very expensive."
"I'm not a good person?" Mr. Shaw let out a scornful laugh. "I'm the greatest person in the base."
With those words, he turned towards An Zhe. "You go ahead and look around the shop. I have something to discuss with this madwoman."
An Zhe was the best at being obedient. He turned his head to look at the nearest shelf and saw some strangely-shaped bottles, filled with liquids or solids, upon which naked human bodies were printed. Further inside were some books with similar-looking covers—these, he knew about. A large part of the reason why the department An Ze used to contribute to had collapsed was that nobody cared about the reading materials the base published, whereas the pornographic reading materials that circulated out of the black market were in high demand.
Below the shelf was a transparent glass window filled with cigarettes, and the other drawer right next to it contained many USB drives.
At that moment, the sound of conversation drifted over from where Mr. Shaw was.
"The kid's good. For you to have given me such a large gift when you've always been so stingy, the business you wish to discuss with me must be extraordinary." The sound of a lighter came from around Mr. Shaw, and the concentration of the smoke in the room doubled.
"The kid was just picked up at random." Doussay giggled. "The thing I wanted to request you to make, Mr. Shaw, is indeed not simple."
"Anything's fine," Mr. Shaw said in a careless tone. "As long as you have enough money."
"You might not dare to make it," Doussay drawled.
"If you put up more money, I'll dare to," Mr. Shaw replied.
With a scoff of laughter, Doussay spoke two words.
"The Arbiter," she said. "Do you dare to make him, Mr. Shaw?"
An Zhe was stunned. He didn't know how the words 'the Arbiter' could be connected to these two people in the black market.
Mr. Shaw also went silent.
In the end, he said, "I only make dead people and not living ones lest I attract trouble, and you want to attract the biggest trouble to me."
"To tell you the truth, I have a friend who is crazy about the Colonel and has to have him," Doussay said. "You may also know that no living person dares to get within three meters of the Arbiter. There's no other choice besides buying a fake from you. It'll just be kept at home, so it definitely won't cause problems. As for the price, it's up to you."
Mr. Shaw smiled but didn't speak.
At the same time, An Zhe slowly moved deeper into the shop.
His feet came to a standstill, for he had kicked something.
He looked down and saw a white hand lying on the concrete floor all by itself. Based on its condition, it had just been severed, but the place where it had been severed was smooth and clean, with no blood in sight.
An Zhe crouched down and poked the hand's skin. It was very soft, like a human hand, but it wasn't actually one.
It was a fake hand.
He stopped exploring and stood up.
With that motion, he met the gaze of a person standing in the glass display window. In the dim lighting, a pair of black eyes stared straight at him. Half of the person's body was hidden in the darkness, which was a bit startling.
An Zhe looked at him for a while. Three minutes later, he still hadn't seen this person breathe at all.
Perhaps, just like that fake hand, this was a fake human, he thought.
"Startled?" Mr. Shaw's voice suddenly rang out from behind him.
"I'm okay," An Zhe said.
Mr. Shaw asked, "Does it look real?"
"It does," An Zhe said.
He heard Mr. Shaw laugh in that raspy voice of his before pressing a switch on one side. The lighting in the area became much brighter.
----------------------------------------
An Zhe finally saw the entirety of the man in the glass display window. He was dressed in black and had a tall and trim physique along with clean-cut and handsome facial features. The light shone upon his face, causing a thin layer of white shimmer to reflect off it and arbitrarily adding a slight chill.
"Have you heard of Hubbard, mercenary team AR137's leader?" Mr. Shaw asked.
An Zhe didn't speak. In the room, there was only the sound of Mr. Shaw's voice. "One of the most powerful mercenaries. When he brings his team to places with five-star danger levels, it's just like child's play. He has money, right?"
An Zhe made an affirmative sound in response.
He knew that the materials brought back from the outside could be exchanged for the base's currency at the military's supply depots, so those powerful mercenaries did not lack for money.
Mr. Shaw pointed to the person standing in the display window. "This is his vice-captain. They grew up together, then became mercenaries together after coming of age. For more than twenty years, they had a friendship where they'd give their lives for each other. Last time they went out into the wilderness, he died without leaving behind even a single body part. What a tragedy."
With those words, Mr. Shaw let out a snort of laughter. "Three months after this person died, Hubbard came to me. Even his spirit was gone. He spent more than half of his wealth to buy this person and asked me to not make a mistake with even a single hair on his head.
"As for me, I definitely don't dare to make mistakes. Apart from not being alive, everything else is the same." Mr. Shaw sighed. "After all, they'll have to live the rest of their lives while looking at this fake person."
"When I made these before, it was for people to use for pleasure, the inflatable kind. Later, everyone thought the ones I made looked like living people—the easier it is for people to die outside, the easier it is for people to go crazy, so my crafts became valuable." Mr. Shaw patted him on the shoulder. "Study hard under me, and in ten years, you'll have more money than any mercenary."
As An Zhe looked at Mr. Shaw, he recalled his previous conversation with Doussay and asked, "Then are you going to make the Arbiter?"
"Yes, why not?" Mr. Shaw smiled. "The mighty Arbiter is so busy killing people that he can't be bothered to care about this kind of crap."