Chapter 9 — Shopping District
Saturday. No alarm. No school.
He woke up at 6:40 anyway because his body had apparently decided that suffering was a lifestyle now.
The daily quest had already reset.
Push-ups: 0/100Sit-ups: 0/100Squats: 0/100Run: 0/10,000 m
He did what he could in the living room. Same spot as last night. Same oversized shirt. Same carpet that was slowly developing a permanent sweat stain in the shape of his back.
Push-ups first. Forty-three before his arms quit. Sit-ups. Fifty. Squats. Sixty-two. His form was terrible on all of them but the counters moved, so he kept going until his body filed a formal complaint.
The run would have to wait until tonight. No way he was showing up drenched.
Shower. Then the actual problem.
He opened the wardrobe and stared.
Big Ye's clothing collection looked like someone had decided the only colors that existed were black, dark grey, and "slightly different black." Every shirt was three sizes too large. Every pair of pants had an elastic waistband. There was literally nothing in this wardrobe that a functioning adult would voluntarily wear in public.
He grabbed a dark shirt that was at least clean and a pair of black pants that didn't look like pajamas. Put them on. Looked in the mirror.
I look like a bouncer for a restaurant that hasn't opened yet.
Not much he could do about it. He needed actual clothes. Maybe he'd find something at the district.
He booked an ETT.
"Passenger identified: Yan Ye. Destination: Central Commercial District."
The vehicle rose and the city spread out below him. Saturday morning Tianmu was different from the weekday version. More people on the aerial paths. More color in the streets. The massive trees that made up the city's skeleton filtered the morning light into something warm and shifting, turning the canopy-level walkways into tunnels of green and gold.
He caught himself leaning toward the window again.
Still not used to this.
The Central Commercial District was enormous.
The trees here were ancient. So massive their hollowed trunks had been converted into multi-story atriums, with shops built into the wood itself. Bridges connected buildings at different heights. The walkways curved between branches thick enough to land a vehicle on. Everything was layered. Ground level, canopy level, sub-levels carved into root systems.
He stood at the east entrance, next to a fountain built around a tree stump the size of a house, and tried to look like he wasn't nervous.
9:51. Nine minutes early.
He checked his phone. No new messages. Checked it again. Same result. Stared at the fountain. The water was doing something complicated with gravity that didn't look natural.
Stop checking your phone like an idiot.
He put it in his pocket. Took it out. Put it back.
At 9:57 she appeared.
Silver hair down. That was the first thing he noticed. At school she always had it tied back. Today it was loose, falling past her shoulders, and it caught the morning light in a way that made him forget what he was doing with his hands.
She was wearing something he'd never seen on her before. A cream-colored blouse with embroidered flowers along the collar and down the front, the sleeves slightly translucent. Below that, a long sage-green skirt with a high waist that moved like it was made of something lighter than fabric. Small earrings. A thin hair clip.
Elegant. Refined. The kind of outfit that looked simple until you realized how perfectly everything fit together.
He'd seen her twice before outside a classroom. Both times she'd been pretty in a way that made his brain stall.
This was worse.
Stand up. You're supposed to stand up when someone arrives. Basic human function. Do it.
He stood up. Slightly too late.
"Good morning," she said.
"Morning."
His voice came out normal, which felt like an achievement worth celebrating.
She looked around the plaza. The fountain. The tree-trunk atriums rising behind them. The bridges overhead.
"I've lived here ten months and never came to this place."
"Same. I think the farthest I've gone from my apartment is the school gate."
She gave him a look. "That's not something to admit out loud."
"Probably not."
They started walking.
She walked next to him, not ahead. Pointing at things with the same quiet enthusiasm she'd had talking about Frieren that night on the sofa.
It didn't take long for the district to overwhelm him.
The ground-level shops were normal enough. Clothing. Electronics. Food courts. But every few storefronts, something hit him sideways. A display window with body armor that looked like athletic wear. A rack of what he initially thought were fitness trackers until he noticed the faint glow of runes etched into the bands.
A man at a food stall across the walkway snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared at the tip of his thumb. He lit something on the grill, shook his hand out, and went back to flipping skewers.
Nobody around him reacted.
Casual arson as a cooking method. Sure. Normal Saturday.
Then they turned a corner and he stopped walking.
Weapons. An entire storefront of them, behind reinforced glass that hummed faintly when he got close. Swords, mostly. A few spears. Daggers arranged in a semicircle on black velvet. Each piece labeled with a small tag.
T1 Common — Iron Fang Short Sword — 42,000¥
T1 Uncommon — Windcutter Blade — 310,000¥
T2 Common — Ashveil Longsword — 1,800,000¥
His eyes drifted to a separate case with darker glass. The pieces inside looked different. Sharper. The metal itself seemed to absorb light.
T2 Rare — Jade Tide Saber — 14,000,000¥
"Fourteen million," he said out loud.
"That's normal for T2 Rare," Wen Jiayi said. She'd stopped beside him, looking at the display with the familiarity of someone who understood this world from the inside. "The jump between tiers isn't gradual. A T3 weapon at the same rarity would be at least ten times that."
"And above T3?"
"You won't find them in a place like this. T1 and T2 equipment shows up in regular commercial districts. T3 only in the major trade centers. T4..." She paused, thinking. "Tianmu is a mid-tier city, so maybe one or two specialty stores carry T4 pieces, but for reliable stock you'd need a chamber of commerce. Those are in a completely different part of the city."
"What about T5?"
"Capital cities or fortress cities. And fortress cities have purchase restrictions if you're not a registered resident." She glanced at him. "Why? Are you planning to buy a T5 sword? I can help you with the paperwork. Should only take about three years and a background check from two different institutions."
"Just mapping the economy in my head."
"You sound like a merchant, not a student."
I sound like a gamer who just found the crafting system.
They kept moving. A potion shop. Smaller. Most of the stock was T1, with a handful of T2 on a higher shelf behind the counter. Everything T3 and above sat behind a locked section with a sign: T3+ products require awakener certification and government-issued purchase authorization.
"Even potions need a license past T3?"
"A high-tier healing potion administered to someone whose body can't handle the energy density will cause organ failure. The regulations exist because people died."
She said it the same way she explained history in class. Matter-of-fact. No drama.
He absorbed it.
Deeper into the district, the shops got more specialized. Material vendors. Monster cores in glass cases, each one labeled with a creature name he couldn't pronounce. Processed leather. Carved bones. A display of what looked like jewelry but was actually accessories made from monster remains, each piece giving off a faint energy signature.
Near the entrance of a materials shop, a girl who couldn't have been older than twelve was walking what looked like a fox. Except the fox had two tails, both glowing faintly blue at the tips, and it was the size of a large dog.
It yawned. One of its tails knocked over a sign. The girl scolded it. It yawned again.
A woman walked past them wearing a bracelet made of iridescent scales. A man browsing the shop next door had a necklace that pulsed faintly with blue light.
"People in this era wear monster parts as accessories," he said. "On purpose."
She looked at the scale bracelet. "Residual energy in the remains provides passive benefits. Small ones. But the market is massive."
"I'm not judging. I'm just processing."
At some point they passed a fitness supply store and she slowed down.
"You need training gear."
"I've been managing with the living room floor."
"Your joints haven't been managing." She walked in.
The store clerk, a Tier 1 awakener judging by the badge on his chest, was demonstrating a punching bag to another customer by hitting it once. The bag didn't move. The wall behind it cracked.
"We also have the reinforced model," the clerk said without looking back.
He followed because arguing with her was like arguing with gravity.
She picked items like she'd done this before. High-density training mat. Resistance bands rated for awakener use. Weighted gloves that adjusted automatically. Then she grabbed compression shirts and training pants in his size, held one shirt against him for half a second, put it back, and picked the next size up.
"I can pay for—"
"I know." She put everything on the counter. "You can buy me lunch."
Deal.
They found a restaurant on the fourth floor of one of the tree atriums. The interior was built into the wood itself, the walls curving naturally, windows opening through gaps in the bark to the district below. The menu was solid. Mid-range. Clean ingredients.
She ordered a grain bowl. He ordered the largest protein set available with double rice. When the food arrived and she saw the portion size she just raised an eyebrow slightly and said nothing.
They talked. Not about anything heavy. Her research for the master's program. A novel she was reading. His opinions on the district, which mostly consisted of "this is insane" repeated in different ways. She laughed more than she did at school. Quieter, but more real.
At one point he made a comment about how every novel she described seemed to feature the same type of male lead.
"What type?" she asked.
"Tragic backstory. Emotionally unavailable for six hundred chapters. Probably has a sword."
She stared at him.
"...That's uncomfortably accurate."
He almost inhaled his rice.
After lunch they drifted through the entertainment zone. Arcades. A cinema complex built into a hollowed branch. Hobby shops.
And then he saw the storefront.
A massive promotional banner. FRIEREN: 5th Anniversary Collector's Edition — Limited Stock. The display window showed everything: a replica staff with the red crystal eye, the complete novel collection in an illustrated boxed set, a pair of red crystal drop earrings modeled after Frieren's, and a small Frieren plush sitting at the center of the display.
Wen Jiayi stopped walking.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Her expression shifted. The gentle composure she always wore softened into something younger. Open. She looked at the staff first, then the earrings, then the plush. Her eyes stayed on the plush for an extra second.
Then she blinked and the composure came back.
"That's a nice display," she said, and kept walking.
He didn't follow immediately.
She told me Frieren was her favorite. That night. On the sofa. Three episodes. She cried at the second one and pretended she didn't.
And she just walked away from a collector's set of her favorite anime the same way she walks away from everything she wants for herself.
"I need to use the restroom. I'll catch up."
She nodded and headed toward a café they'd passed.
He turned around.
"The Frieren anniversary set. Full collection. Gift wrapped."
"228,000 yuan. Would you like a bag?"
"Please."
He found her at the café a few minutes later. She'd gotten a table near the window and ordered drinks. Something cold for her, something he didn't recognize for him.
He sat down. Put the bag on the table between them.
She looked at it. Then at him.
"What is this?"
"Open it."
She moved the tissue paper. The staff was on top. Red crystal catching the café light. She went still.
"Yan Ye." Her voice was different. Softer. Almost careful.
She pulled the novel set out. Then the earrings. Then the plush. Her hands slowed down with each piece. By the time she was holding the plush she'd forgotten they were in public.
"How did you know I wanted this?"
"You showed me your favorite anime the first night we talked. And you cried at episode two."
"I didn't cry at episode two."
"You absolutely cried."
Her ears went red. She looked at the collection spread across the table. Staff. Novels. Earrings. Plush. All of it.
"This is way too much."
"This is too much."
"It's not. You've been feeding me, tutoring me, buying me training gear, and you showed up at my apartment when nobody else in this world would have. A box set and a stuffed elf don't cover it."
She didn't say anything for a few seconds. Just looked at the collection spread across the table. Then she picked up one of the earrings. Held it up to the light. Red crystal, identical to the ones in the anime.
"Thank you," she said. Quieter than usual. "This really means a lot to me."
He picked up his drink. Whatever it was, it was good.
"Try the staff. See if it fits."
"I am not holding a replica staff in a café."
"Coward."
She laughed. Brief. Real. The kind that slipped out before she could stop it.
They sat there for a while. The afternoon light through the window turned the table warm. She kept the plush on her lap and rotated the earrings between her fingers like she was memorizing their weight. He pretended not to notice. Failed completely.
This is the second time in this world that I've felt like a real person. Both times she was there.
Eventually they got up and walked toward the east exit.
He saw them first.
Coming from the opposite direction. Twenty meters out. Wei Hao. The clown from his class. Third row, near the window. The one who always talked like the room owed him attention.
Hard to miss, even in a crowded district. Short. Maybe 165 centimeters on a generous day. Wearing clothes that cost more than some people's monthly rent and walking with his chin raised like that extra two centimeters of posture was going to make a difference.
And next to him, carrying enough shopping bags to furnish a small apartment, was Luo Meiyin.
Species Biology. She taught his class too. Twenty-six. Tier 2. Before Wen Jiayi transferred to the academy, she'd been the teacher everyone stared at. Tall. Dark hair. Red dress. The kind of look that announced itself three stores before she actually arrived.
She was laughing at something Wei Hao said. The shopping bags swung at her sides. His wallet was probably still crying.
A student and a teacher. On a Saturday. With matching shopping bags.
Yan Ye looked at the scene. Then at Wen Jiayi beside him. Then back at Wei Hao.
Two students. Two teachers. Same district. Same Saturday.
This is going to be incredibly stupid.
Wei Hao looked up.
His eyes found Yan Ye first. Skipped over him. Then landed on the woman next to him.
Silver hair. Green eyes. The teacher that half the school was in love with.
Something changed in Wei Hao's face. Small. Fast. The kind of expression that happens when someone sees something they think they can use.
He turned and walked straight toward them.
Of Course