The customer saw a palm-sized piece of paper being taken from the overcoat pocket and presented to him with both hands.
"What can you draw on something this small?" The slightly disappointed man took the piece of paper and examined it. He kept looking for several minutes.
Only when the small piece of paper was placed in his hand did he notice what made it special. It was far thinner yet tougher than ordinary parchment or papyrus. It gave off a crisp sound when shaken, and his fingertips felt its fine texture as they rubbed across the surface. Every sign showed that it was extraordinary.
Both sides of the azure-colored paper depicted a window with intricate carvings and an extremely ornate design. It reminded him of the floor-to-ceiling windows he had seen in temples and ducal residences. Strange runes of varying sizes, unlike anything he had ever seen, were scattered across the paper.
"The workmanship isn't bad, but the piece is too small." The man finally finished admiring it and spoke. "Still, the material and the coloring technique used for this painting are both unheard of."
Anyone who has seen a twenty-Euro note would know that, Zhang Yuan thought, but he said aloud, "This is a work of art I brought from my homeland. I usually keep it inside a book as a bookmark. I only have two left."
The man neither agreed nor disagreed. He continued looking down at the banknote in his hand. "Name your price. This item is certainly worthy of a place in my collection."
It worked! Zhang Yuan was a little unsure what price to set, though. Completely ignorant of the standards of living and prices in Faerûn, he regretted not visiting some other shops to ask about the going rates.
"This is a keepsake I brought from my homeland. I never thought of selling it before. A cultured noble like you surely wouldn't overlook the value of this painting."
Though he had not revealed his identity, his clothes alone—clean and smooth like silk—along with the walking stick in his hand, set with a green gemstone the size of a coin, were far beyond what an ordinary commoner could afford. Even if some adventurers or merchants could afford such things, few possessed the taste and bearing that required years of refinement.
Besides, people rarely took offense at excessive courtesy. Surely he wouldn't fly into a rage simply because I flattered him?
The "noble" Zhang Yuan had addressed did not deny or correct him. He merely turned his head and gestured to the middle-aged man beside him.
The middle-aged man, who appeared to be a butler, pulled five gold coins from his belt pouch and handed them over. At the same time, he said meaningfully, "This is enough to buy fine pearls. You should thank the Claude Wolf family for its generosity."
Hearing the warning hidden in the man's words, Zhang Yuan did not take the bait. He politely praised the other party's generosity, while wondering where he had heard that surname before.
As he watched the young noble leave with several attendants, Zhang Yuan clutched the gold coins tightly in his palm. Even after shoving his fist into his pocket, he refused to loosen it. In this unfamiliar otherworld, these gold coins were his lifeline.
He might have spent money lavishly in the game, throwing around thousands or tens of thousands of gold coins without blinking, but from the butler's tone alone, it was obvious that gold coins in this world were not so cheap.
Just as he was preparing to buy a hamburger to comfort his rumbling stomach after making a huge profit, the young painter he had ignored from beginning to end suddenly lunged at him.
Thinking he was being robbed, Zhang Yuan was startled into gripping the hilt of his dog-leg knife, ready to defend his meager savings. You're just a down-and-out painter, and you still dare to covet my money and turn into a bandit on the spot?
But things were not as he imagined. The painter lunged over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and shook him while pleading, "You have more paintings like that, don't you? Can you let me take a look? Just one look!"
Zhang Yuan frowned and pushed his hand away. His tone was slow but firm. "That is the only kind of keepsake I brought from my homeland. Selling one already pains me greatly. I'm sorry, but I can't let you examine another." Judging by the painter's impoverished appearance, Zhang Yuan did not believe he could offer a good price.
Unexpectedly, the poor painter said something astonishing. "I'm Archmage Ramasith's nephew!"
Zhang Yuan stopped in his tracks and looked the painter over again, carefully examining him from head to toe. Yet no matter how he looked at him, he seemed nothing more than a destitute peddler of paintings, with nothing special about him.
"I've heard of Archmage Ramasith. If you really are his nephew, how did you end up in this state?" Zhang Yuan asked bluntly, showing no consideration.
The painter rubbed his hands together and gave an awkward, slightly ingratiating smile. "I am his nephew, but our family has a huge extended family tree. I'm not exactly important."
"Besides, if you've heard anything about his reputation, you should know that my uncle isn't exactly a generous man." Though the painter was clearly trying to restrain himself, a trace of indignation still seeped into his voice.
Oh? Now this was interesting. Zhang Yuan had not expected this development, and he began making a few calculations in his mind.
That old bastard Ramasith was a minor boss in the game. His character was nothing special, but there were plenty of good things in his mage tower. Although Zhang Yuan was still a complete novice, what if? What if he eventually grew strong enough to target him?
Besides, this was merely a spare move. There was no harm in laying down a connection.
Of course, Zhang Yuan absolutely did not dare target Ramasith at present. Regardless of whether the man really was an archmage, Zhang Yuan would never dare underestimate a spellcaster who owned a mage tower in the city.
With his thoughts churning, Zhang Yuan kept his expression calm and asked the painter, "You say you're Archmage Ramasith's nephew? What's your name? What proof do you have?"
"My name is Wiles. I can't produce any proof, but Archmage Ramasith has several apprentices in charge of selling magic items. They know me."
Without rushing to verify his claim, Zhang Yuan took out a pink ten-Euro note and handed it over, secretly pondering whether this unexpected connection might prove useful.
It wasn't that he valued the few banknotes all that much. He had merely thought of a way to make use of rubbish on the spur of the moment. If he could establish a channel for buying magic items, that would be nice. "Are you close with those apprentices? Could you get me a discount when I buy magic items?" Zhang Yuan asked hopefully.
Wiles was busy studying the banknote. Without even looking up, he replied, "Not a chance. If I had that kind of influence, I wouldn't have to go out selling paintings."
Zhang Yuan was left speechless. He could only wait for Wiles to finish admiring the banknote before asking in an apparently complimentary tone, "Making a living from your passion, free and unfettered—life must be pretty carefree, right?"
"Do I look carefree to you? Some days I can't even earn enough to pay for food!" Wiles snapped.
"That's not right. How can art be measured with money?" Zhang Yuan's airy remark left Wiles nearly choking.
Unable to say a word for quite some time, Wiles could only widen his eyes and glare fiercely at Zhang Yuan.
The shameless man merely chuckled, unfazed, and invited him, "It's already evening. I made a little money by borrowing your spot today, so how about I treat you to dinner?"
Before you continue