As she sat on the bed whilst mulling over her thoughts, An Fei gradually arrived to the conclusion that Xilong’s planned dossier for her recovery was rather simple and crude. At the same time, it was a plan that required little effort to declare, but great toils to actually bring into effect.
Put simply, she was to interact with the citizens of the Shattered Star Continent.
The heavenly dragon didn’t wish for An Fei to interact with the other humans of the mortal world as a means of observation, but rather interaction in its truest sense. The young girl was to lower the defenses in her heart, and wade along the sea of immeasurable human souls that circulated throughout the continent.
“Make some companions, differentiate and compromise with your enemies, and accept your kinship as close members to yourself.”
Essentially, it came down to a matter of learning via trust; the sole purpose of the heavenly dragon’s plan was to engender trust between An Fei and her surroundings, in preparation for remolding a temporary soul to house her persona.
By exposing the frailty of her heart and gathering experience in accepting and delivering compassion, emotion, and pain with others, she would then have completed the requisites for creating an artificial soul.
Yes… that was bound to be the case, for according to Xilong’s observations, An Fei really didn’t’ have a choice in the matter if she wished to not be confined to the sanctuary for decades, perhaps even centuries mired in loneliness.
“Still, to forbid me from using the <Steps of Underlying Shadow> to conceal myself while walking in public… how am I going to avoid being assaulted by some uncontrollable person? Not to mention, I can’t live in the Sanctum for the time being!?”
An Fei made several excuses for herself and tossed them to the skies as she crawled under the covers of the somewhat subpar and itchy blanket of the inn.
Sooner or later, the young girl had fallen asleep under the scarlet dragon’s relieved watch, although her minute expressions clearly indicated that her experience wasn’t particularly that pleasant.
–
“Freshly grown apples from Jangru Province! Sweet and succulent, they are guaranteed to make your day at three copper coins per bundle!”
Chang shouted at the top of his lungs as he stood behind a wooden stall, his powerful voice drowning out the competition of the neighboring stores of the Grace Street.
The thirty-year old man panted and massaged his gradually sore throat, allowing for a five-minute interval to pass before he began advertising once more.
The human river’s powerful current continued to ferry people from one side of the street to another without touching his plainly decorated wooden stall, causing frustration to well inside of the middle-aged man’s heart.
Chang began tapping his foot on the cobbled stone ground, his mind fervently counting down the short but painful five minutes.
Once the sacred interval of Grace Street had passed, he started screeching at the top of his voice, accompanied by several dozen small-business merchants struggling to ensure a living.
“Freshly grown apples from Jangru Province! Three coppers per bundle – they will make your day!”
“This big fellow here, you’ve been standing here from sunrise until the afternoon, and your stall doesn’t have any ice. How are these apples supposed to be fresh?”
“They’re apples from the Jangru Province! Why would they surrender to some morning heat?”
Upon his first try since the new hour had begun, Chang had managed to sell five batches of apples in a single go – particularly due to the blessings of spoiled rich Young Misses seeking for enjoyment. This time, however, he wasn’t as successful – he ended up with only three measly copper coins clutched in his palm.
That was equivalent to a single customer, but that sole customer had managed to haggle with him for fifteen continuous minutes – three whole chances at earning a decent profit for himself.
How frustrating – these “educated” and “profoundly apt” scholars who only knew how to waggle their fans and haggle over the smallest of things!
Just what did Confucian morals have to do with the act of selling or buying apples!?
Chang continued to fume to himself long after the miserly scholar had departed with his bundle of Jangru apples, even as his voice continued to increase in volume. As time continued to pass, the bags containing apples from the Jangru Province sitting besides his leg continued to dwindle, and the envious glances of the merchants besides him increased in sharpness by each passing second.
It couldn’t be helped; with his loud and boisterous voice, and the advantage of Jangru apples – whose taste was sweet and bewitching with a slight of tanginess – it was inevitable for Chang to “rob” business from the remainder of the merchants forced to open street stalls along Grace Street.
He brought thirty bundles of apples a day, and almost always sold out before evening fell. The amount Chang earned by himself in a single day triumphed over what they could earn in a week as individual merchants.
Even amongst poor merchants incapable of obtaining the resources and influence to open a storehouse of their own, a “poor merchant” earning more than every other “poor merchant” was a sight intolerable amongst the owners of the street stalls.
As such, upon one unfortunate evening, the dozens of merchants stormed Chang’s stall, demanding a compromise of sorts.
To prevent Chang from expanding his business and potentially earning enough influence to build his own storehouse, they forced a five-minute interval that each merchant had to endure before they could advertise their products once again.
In exchange, they wouldn’t prevent Chang from earning as much profit as he wanted, and would band together to ward off external influence.
Although not particularly happy about the conclusion of the negotiation, the middle-aged man agreed in the end in a peaceful manner. Given his circumstances, it was inevitable for Chang to agree.
He was a single father of a young daughter, which meant that he had to work twice – no, three times as hard to maintain the family’s current situation. With an average daily sale of ninety copper coins, which was almost a silver coin of Shattered Star Continent’s currency, Chang didn’t have to worry about not being able to buy cosmetics for his daughter to present herself in an affable manner, but his brows were perpetually knotted in concern.
His sole daughter was a cultivator.
And cultivators were infamous at their ability to drain the wealth from any establishment regardless of their resources. Particularly when they were within the beginning stages of the long and arduous path of cultivation – where they required resources the most.
Spiritual medicaments, properly compatible cultivation manuals and martial arts techniques…
With a forlorn smile, Chang unexpected closed shop early, packing up the wooden stall without having sold his final bundle of apples.
Waving aside the questioning gazes of the neighboring merchants, the middle-aged man began pushing the stall in the direction of his home, his back slumped over in representation of his worries and burdens.
Suddenly, without realizing it, he had stopped pushing the relatively heavy wooden cart, and was instead staring towards a certain young girl seated at an outdoor bench, a partially rolled-up book grasped in her hand.
Her appearance wasn’t particularly beautiful and was slightly better than average, but an invisible aura seemed to latch its tethers onto Chang’s compassionate heart. The more he stared, the more evident the charismatic qualities attracting him became.
Her age was young compared to his; she seemed just the same age as his daughter. And yet, despite her youthful age, an aura of loneliness and weariness seemed to exude from the pair of dull, scarlet irises.
Just from the blank and exhausted gaze she aimlessly scattered throughout the seemingly never-ending Grace street, Chang had a feeling that she had experienced more of the world’s vicissitudes that he had with his longer life. It was perplexing and somewhat foreign, but the middle-aged man quietly dismissed the unusual sentiment in his heart.
In response, he silently reached for an apple from the remaining bundle tethered to his wooden stall, and placed it on the wooden bench next to the seated young girl.
When her eyes drifted from the curled-up book to observe his actions, Chang merely revealed a slight smile on his withered countenance before returning to his wooden stall, resuming his journey back home for the day.
Who knew that someone in this world could have such a desolate gaze?
The middle-aged man muttered to himself whilst shaking his head, before allowing his mind to wander about searching for gifts to present to his daughter waiting back home. Seated on the wooden bench, the young girl dropped her gaze onto the apple placed besides her body, and picked it up to take a bite.
It was bitter and slightly sour, completely unlike that of the sweet and succulent taste that Chang had proclaimed it to be. But An Fei unexpectedly didn’t spit it out, though her eyes were narrowed in confusion.
How odd, for something to taste bitter but not unpleasant.
