Zihao does not hurry to leave. He has a habit of observing the market, listening to conversations between merchants and customers to grasp consumer trends. Today is no different—he stands tucked into a shaded corner under the eaves, quietly gathering information.
"This province's oolong (Longjing - Zihao made up that word when selling to the merchants) tea is truly a masterpiece!" A middle-aged merchant exclaims in front of a tea stall. "Its fragrance is light, the aftertaste is deeply sweet, and it can be brewed multiple times. I've tried tea from the North, but it still can't compare to this one."
Zihao hears this, and the corner of his lips lifts slightly.
Provincial oolong tea… That is precisely the tea he painstakingly cultivated from a lone surviving sapling after being summoned to this world. From a frail little branch, it has grown into a vast tea garden, becoming one of his signature products.
At another stall, a group of merchants discusses different types of paper.
"This paper isn't just smooth; it's also highly water-resistant! Even after a long time, the ink doesn't smudge!"
"Exactly! I heard the person who made it used beeswax to treat the surface. Truly ingenious!"
"Not only that, but this paper is also more durable than regular bamboo paper. If stored properly, it can last a very long time without decaying."
Zihao smiles. This new type of bamboo paper is a product from his workshop. Thanks to a stable beeswax supply from Aldo, production has gone smoothly. Seeing the market respond so well, it seems his strategy of improving raw materials has paid off.
A few steps further, he catches a conversation from a group of customers in front of a liquor stall.
"This berry wine is really delicious. It's sweet and tart, with a delicate fragrance—so easy to drink."
"I think so too. If I get the chance, I'll buy a few more bottles."
Zihao does not hear anyone mention his name, but he knows exactly which wine they are talking about—his own creation. This wine is made from various berries, naturally fermented to preserve their full flavor. He has not promoted it aggressively, but with such positive feedback, perhaps it is time to expand the market.
Next to the fabric stall, a group of tailors is engaged in a lively discussion.
"This bamboo fabric is absolutely worth the price! Softer than cotton, yet lighter than silk—perfect for summer clothing."
"Not only that, but it's also breathable and wrinkle-resistant. If the price is reasonable, I think it will soon become a trend."
Zihao nods in satisfaction. Bamboo fabric has always been one of his best-selling products. Its sturdy fiber structure, high durability, and natural antibacterial properties make it an ideal choice for clothing and everyday textiles.
A little farther away, a group of children gathers around a small stall, holding translucent candies in their hands, their eyes sparkling with delight.
"It's so sweet! And it smells really nice!"
"Mom, I want to buy more!"
The vendor grins, pleased with the enthusiastic reception from the children.
Zihao immediately recognizes the candy—made from peach tree resin. When a peach tree is injured, it secretes a natural resin with a mild sweetness and a distinct aroma. After refinement and a touch of honey, it becomes an irresistible treat.
Watching the children's excitement, Zihao smiles faintly. Another successful product.
A gentle breeze sweeps through the square, carrying the scent of tea, wine, and fabric. Under the afternoon sunlight, Zihao stands there, silently observing and listening—like a true merchant.
He is not just a brilliant diplomat of The Strays but also someone who understands the very pulse of the market.
The square remains crowded and lively, but amidst the bustling crowd, Zihao quickly notices a familiar figure rushing toward him.
Neva—the former slave girl with long black hair, sky-blue eyes, and pale skin—weaves through the crowd, her simple dress fluttering with each hurried step. As she nears Zihao, her breathing is slightly uneven, but she maintains a composed expression.
"Zihao," Neva speaks, her voice soft but clear.
"Neva, how's your day?" Zihao asks, his gaze studying her carefully.
"Nothing special, just the usual. And you?"
"Same as always." Zihao shrugs. "But… you're in such a hurry—is it because of what I asked for?"
Neva nods, then takes out a pouch of herbs from her basket and hands it to Zihao.
"Here are the herbs you need: mint, rosemary, sage, licorice, and a bit of resin," she says. "And these are the essential oils: lavender, ginger, agarwood, and lemon."
Zihao takes the pouch, checks its contents, then nods in satisfaction. "Good, thank you."
He pulls a small coin pouch from inside his robe, counts out exactly 600 silver coins, and hands it to Neva.
"Here you go."
Neva accepts it without hesitation but still bows her head slightly. "Thank you, Zihao."
Zihao watches her for a moment before unexpectedly reaching out to pat her head.
Neva instinctively steps back, dodging his hand. "Don't pat my head."
Zihao raises an eyebrow, then smirks teasingly. "Why not? If it were Aldo, you'd probably lean in instead of dodging, wouldn't you?"
Neva's face instantly turns red. "Of course!" She tries to regain her composure, but her voice still wavers slightly.
Zihao chuckles softly. "You're overreacting."
Neva doesn't respond, simply turning her face away as if trying to hide her embarrassment.
Zihao shakes his head, then asks, "Aldo doesn't come with you anymore?"
Neva turns back to him, now more composed. "After forcing me to abandon my slave mindset and teaching me how to read, he told me to figure things out on my own and stopped following me around."
"I see," Zihao murmurs thoughtfully. "Then, do you want to work for The Strays?"
Neva blinks. "The Strays?"
"My group—Aldo and the others," Zihao explains.
Neva thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "Aldo doesn't encourage it, so I won't join."
Zihao raises an eyebrow. "Doesn't encourage or forbids?"
"Doesn't encourage," Neva emphasizes.
Zihao crosses his arms, studying her before smiling slightly. "So you're still following Aldo's orders like a slave."
Neva stiffens. "I'm not a slave anymore!"
"Then why do you let Aldo decide for you?" Zihao tilts his head.
"He's not deciding for me!"
"So, do you want to join or not?"
Neva opens her mouth to respond but then falls silent.
Zihao continues, "Aldo only said he doesn't encourage it—he never forbade you. If you're truly free, you should be making your own decisions."
Neva stands still, no longer refuting him as quickly as before. Her gaze turns hazy, as if she's lost in deep thought.
Zihao doesn't say anything else. He simply watches her quietly, waiting for her next move.
The central plaza remains as lively as ever. The polished granite streets glisten under the bright sunlight, reflecting shimmering rays whenever someone walks by. The air is filled with the rich scents of toasted bread, skewered roasted meats, and an array of spices from the street vendors, making it nearly impossible for passersby not to crave a bite. The voices of merchants calling out their wares, the laughter of children playing, and the steady hum of traders discussing market prices and newly arrived goods from distant lands create an endless background symphony of the bustling marketplace.
In another corner, a group of street musicians plays soft melodies on a lute and bamboo flute. Their music isn't particularly lively, yet it carries a soothing charm—like a cool breeze amidst the sweltering heat. Some pedestrians pause for a moment, smiling as they listen, before continuing on with the flow of their daily routines.
Yet, amidst all the movement and noise, Neva stands frozen like a statue. Though surrounded by the ever-flowing tide of people, she remains still, as if disconnected from the world around her. Her deep blue eyes reveal uncertainty, lacking the strength and decisiveness she held just moments ago. Her small frame trembles slightly—whether from a sudden gust of wind or the storm of conflicting emotions brewing within her, it is unclear.
Neva tightens her hand slightly, as if trying to grasp something just beyond reach. She is no longer a slave—at least, in name. But right now, as Zihao says those words, a strange sense of uncertainty washes over her. Why does she immediately refuse to join The Strays just because Aldo does not encourage it? Why does she let Aldo's thoughts influence her decisions so much? Is she truly living as a free person, or is she just a bird whose cage has been opened yet still lingers inside, afraid to fly out?
Zihao observes her, his sharp gaze devoid of mockery. He does not need to read Neva's mind—her body language says it all. First, the prolonged silence, her eyes blinking rapidly as if searching for an answer. Then the way she bites her lower lip, her hands clenching and releasing in an unconscious struggle. Even her breathing is slightly unsteady—whether from inner turmoil or the gentle breeze drifting by, it is hard to tell.
Zihao does not rush her. He knows that when people are confronted with a paradox they have never considered before, they need time to process it. He simply stands there, watching, waiting, curious to see what conclusion Neva will reach. Amidst the bustling square, filled with people hurrying through their daily lives, one girl battles her own thoughts, while one boy quietly observes the war within her.
Zihao remains still in the lively plaza, letting the crowd flow past him like fleeting shadows in his vision. He no longer pays attention to the noise around him—the street vendors' calls, the clatter of hooves, the laughter of children—all of it fades into a distant backdrop for his thoughts.
Neva has left, heading toward the city library, leaving behind an answer that Zihao is still analyzing.
"Aldo told me he doesn't encourage it, and I think he's right. I don't fully understand this world yet, and I still have much to learn before I can take on something bigger. If I join now, I might become a burden."
A rejection, yet not an outright one. Zihao knows that Neva is not blindly following Aldo without thinking. She has her own reasons. But are they truly solid reasons, or just an excuse to justify the hesitation within her?
He recalls Neva's expression as she spoke—her blue eyes did not hold absolute certainty. Instead, there was a hint of defensiveness, a trace of doubt. When she said she did not fully understand this world yet, Zihao realizes it was not a lie, but neither was it the complete truth. If she truly wanted to learn, The Strays would be a perfect place for that.
Zihao exhales softly, his gaze following Neva as she disappears into the crowd. Perhaps the issue is not that she lacks knowledge or fears being a burden. Perhaps, deep down, she still has not found a sense of security in a world where she was once a slave.
He shakes his head slightly, knowing this is not something he can force her to change. Everyone has their own pace of growth, their own way of finding answers. Zihao has thrown a stone into the water, causing ripples, but only Neva can decide whether she wants to follow the waves or not.
The square before him remains as lively as ever. No one seems to notice that a girl has just walked away, lost in tangled thoughts, nor that a boy stands in the midst of the crowd, deep in contemplation.
Zihao stands still in the bustling square, letting the stream of people pass by like fleeting shadows in his vision. He no longer pays attention to the chaotic sounds around him—the calls of vendors, the clatter of hooves, the laughter of children—all of it now fades into a blurry backdrop for his thoughts.
Neva has already left, heading toward the city library, leaving behind an answer that Zihao is still trying to analyze.
"Aldo told me he doesn't encourage it, but I think he's right. I don't fully understand this world yet, and I still have a lot to learn before I can take part in something bigger. If I join now, I might become a burden."
A refusal, but not an outright one. Zihao knows Neva isn't blindly following Aldo's words without consideration. She has her reasons, but are they truly solid, or just an excuse to justify the hesitation inside her?
He recalls Neva's expression as she spoke—those blue eyes lack absolute determination, carrying only a hint of guardedness, a trace of doubt. When she talks about not understanding this world, Zihao realizes it isn't a lie, but it isn't the full truth either. If her only goal is to learn, then The Strays would be a perfect place for her to do so.
Zihao exhales softly, his gaze following Neva's figure as she gradually disappears into the crowd. Perhaps the issue isn't that she lacks knowledge or fears becoming a burden. Maybe, deep down, she still hasn't truly found a sense of security in a world where she was once a slave.
He shakes his head slightly, understanding that this isn't something he can force someone to change. Everyone grows at their own pace, each finding their own answers in their own way. Zihao has cast a stone into the water, creating ripples, but only Neva can decide whether she wants to swim along with the waves or not.
The square before him remains as lively as ever. No one seems to notice that a girl has just walked away with a mind full of tangled thoughts, and that a boy now stands there, lost in contemplation amid the rushing crowd.