Fleming's Advice

The next morning, Jingxing was woken up by a knock on the door.

Three people stood outside the door, all dressed elegantly, making them particularly eye-catching in Pier Point. Each of them carried a wooden box. The one in the lead bowed slightly to Jingxing, opened his box, and handed it to him with both hands.

"This is what the board of directors instructed us to send."

Inside the box lay a palm-sized piece of amber, its four corners polished smooth, with words engraved in the middle: the top line read "Market Development Department," the bottom line read "P47," and below that was Jingxing's name.

"This was hastily made by Director Fleming last night," the man said. "Both of yours are here."

Jingxing took the box. His fingertips caressed the amber; the warm, smooth texture felt as if it had just been mined. He turned it over; the back was bare, except for a layer of fine scratches, as if it had been rubbed back and forth many times with a cloth.

Fu Xuan, wearing his outer robe, walked behind him, picked up his own piece, and placed it next to Jingxing's. The edges of the two pieces matched—they looked like two pieces cut from the same piece of material.

Two other, larger boxes were placed on the table. What's inside is currently unknown.

"The formalities aren't finished yet." The person at the back took a half step forward and spread a thin stack of papers on the table. "According to yesterday's decision, the company will provide you two with P47-level compensation. Details are as follows--"

He read it somewhat haltingly, as if he rarely reads it:

"First, salary. Monthly pay will be based on page 47, with half paid in the form of Amber Shards and the other half recorded in the company's accounts as 'Credits' (tentative name)."

"Secondly, accommodation. Under the guidance of the Amber Lord, the company will renovate the entire Pier Point, and it is expected that a large number of residential areas will be built in the future. At that time, accommodation will be distributed according to the current level."

"Third, rations. Before going out on a mission, you will receive rations corresponding to your level. During the mission, you can temporarily command lower-level company department staff."

When the man had read up to the tenth item, a gust of wind outside the tent blew up a corner of the paper.

Fu Xuan nudged Jingxing: "Why are there so many?"

"Ahem." Jingxing coughed a few times.

After the person left, the hotel waitress brought up a pot of hot water. She placed the copper pot on a small stool by the door and then left.

Good morning, sir.

Yesterday at the counter, she didn't even ask their last names. Jingxing responded, carried the pot into the room, and closed the door.

"Let's first take stock of the treatment they've given us, and then figure out our next move," he suggested to Fu Xuan.

"Yes, that's what I was planning to do too," Fu Xuan replied while fixing his hair in front of the mirror.

After finishing breakfast, Fu Xuan sat back down at the table, opened her notebook, and wrote down everything in the box and the treatment she had just heard about.

"Speaking of which, P47 was already a department head level back then. But it seems they didn't intend for us to participate in department management." Jingxing, sitting to the side watching Fu Xuan take notes, couldn't help but speak up.

"I haven't been involved in any trade dealings with Luofu and the company, so I don't know much about them," Fu Xuan put down his pen. "However, Company Employees at the P47 level are usually received by a general when they arrive at the Xianzhou."

"Then congratulations Lord Diviner, you've already reached the rank of general," Jingxing said sarcastically.

"It's just temporary treatment here," Fu Xuan said dismissively. "Besides, I'll continue working Diviner after we go back."

"It's a pity we can't take these things back with us. Otherwise, we could collect more here and they would become antiques when we take them back." Jingxing with some regret. If he could bring these items back to the present and have them authenticated by the world-renowned antique appraisal master, Miss Zhenzhu, he didn't dare to imagine how much money he could sell them for.

"You can stay here. I need to go out for a bit later; there are some things I want to confirm," he said, getting up and stretching.

"Okay, come back soon." Fu Xuan continued writing.

The tent was the same one from yesterday, and no one had touched the furnishings inside.

Fleming was the only one in the tent at that moment. He sat behind a long table, holding a small piece of stone in his hand, rubbing it gently with his thumb. Hearing footsteps, he looked up and smiled.

"You've arrived. Please have a seat."

Jingxing didn't sit down. He placed the sign on the table and pushed it forward half a foot.

"I've come here to ask you something," Jingxing said, staring at him. "You should be able to tell that we're not followers of the Aeon of Preservation, so how can we receive such high treatment here, where the most devout believers in Him?"

Fleming looked up at Jingxing.

The tent fell silent. The sounds of stone being chiseled in the factory area outside drifted in intermittently. Jingxing counted his heartbeats, but found that the atmosphere in the tent was gradually becoming uneasy.

First, the temperature gradually rose, as if someone had started a fire, making him sweat on the back of his neck. Then, the light cord hanging from the ceiling swayed, and a corner of the document on the table lifted up before falling back down. He initially thought it was the wind, until Jingxing noticed an amber light shining through Fleming's robe.

His eyes started hurting again.

This time was different from yesterday: yesterday it was like being pricked by needles, a sharp, intermittent pain; this time it felt like a whole mass of swelling, swelling until my eyes felt hot, and tears quickly fell.

"You are Idrila's child," Fleming said.

Jingxing's fingers paused.

"Though He has departed, He could not bear to see the world devastated, so He spared you," the old man continued, his voice as calm as reading a ration sheet. "And those children willing to help in the Swarm Disaster should accept Qlipoth's help."

As soon as he finished speaking, Fleming's aura faded. "Just as the chairman said."

"Chairman?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"Unfortunately, He is busy." Fleming gestured with his chin towards the outside of the tent. "Beauty 'Temperance' will limit all unrestrained expansion; introducing your presence is a necessary preparation for us."

"Then, who are you?"

"That's not important," Fleming laughed. "I've never been your enemy; you can treat me as a trustworthy elder."

Fleming held the stone back in his hand, rubbing it with his thumb again. "Since you're leaving Pier Point for a mission, you'll definitely need a spaceship. Dongfang Qixing has already started preparing it for you."

"If you are His spokesperson..." Jingxing asked, "Then Mr. Dongfang Qixing is...?"

"Shh—" Fleming put his index finger to his lips, "If you don't want to be targeted by some mischievous fellow, then keep your guesses as just guesses."

"I understand." Jingxing sighed and nodded.