Ordinary People

"Uncle, I want a banana!"

"Bananas come one to a bunch." Zhang Fusheng squatted on the street corner, skillfully picked up a yellow balloon, blew it into a long strip, tied it off, and handed it to the little boy with a smile.

"Five bucks, please."

The little boy left in high spirits.

Zhu Xiaoming, leaning against the steps, asked in puzzlement:

"You actually know how to make balloon animals?"

"I don't," Zhang Fusheng said calmly.

His best friend scratched his bald head.

"Then what are you doing?"

"The first pot of gold for successful people is often not too clean," Zhang Fusheng said.

Zhu Xiaoming looked blank.

"I don't understand."

Just then, two doll-like little girls came bouncing over. They were twins, one round and chubby, the other just as round and chubby. Their skin was soft and rosy, the sort who looked as though pinching their cheeks would make them burst into tears.

"Uncle!" The twins raised their heads, light shining in their eyes.

"I want a butterfly!"

"I want a puppy!"

Zhang Fusheng spoke softly and gently.

"They're ten yuan each. Do you have money?"

"Yes!" the twins answered in unison, pulling out a hundred-yuan bill.

"Mm, ten yuan each, twenty for two."

Without changing expression, Zhang Fusheng accepted the hundred-yuan bill, gave them eighty yuan in change, and only then picked up a balloon.

With a puff, he blew it into two long strips and handed one to each doll-like twin.

The little girls took them, then spoke adorably.

"Uncle, I wanted a butterfly!"

"Uncle, I wanted a puppy!"

Zhang Fusheng wore a solemn expression and pointed at the long balloon in one girl's hand.

"This is a caterpillar. Leave it at home for a few days, and it'll turn into a butterfly."

Then he pointed at the balloon in the other girl's hand.

"This is a little hot dog. Don't eat it, okay? One bite and it'll pop."

The twins were bewildered. Silent. The sparkling light in their eyes gradually faded.

"Waaah!"

They ran away crying.

Zhu Xiaoming stared blankly at the scene.

After a long while.

"You..."

His eyelids twitched. He wanted to say something, but all he saw was the handsome young man rising to his feet, dusting off his backside, and saying wistfully:

"I told you. The first pot of gold for successful people is never clean."

As he spoke, Zhang Fusheng swiftly packed up his stall, rolled up the cloth bag, and said:

"Retreat!"

"Why run? It's still early."

"If we don't run now, you'll see two sobbing little dolls dragging their furious parents over here."

Zhu Xiaoming had no answer to that.

After they had run far away.

"How much did you make today?"

"Eighty-seven yuan fifty."

Hearing that, Zhu Xiaoming shook his head.

"The Martial Arts Academy tuition costs a hundred thousand. At this rate, will you have to save until the year of the monkey and month of the horse? Why not just ask Uncle Zhang for it? Your dad's a doctor, after all. It's not like he'd be short on that little money, right?"

Zhang Fusheng rolled his eyes.

"I can't be bothered explaining it to rich kids like you. My dad is a doctor, yes, but he's a doctor with principles. Forget it, I can't explain it clearly."

He let out a breath, carrying his cloth bag as he walked and gazed at the Jiangzhou River to his right.

Zhang Fusheng said softly:

"I came to earn my first pot of gold. I came to see how one earns a first pot of gold."

Zhu Xiaoming was somewhat baffled.

"Old Zhang, didn't you already earn it? How much was it again? Eighty-seven fifty."

Zhang Fusheng smiled without answering, his gaze drifting slightly.

The Contract Book.

He possessed a Contract Book capable of buying and selling anything: comprehension, innate aptitude, memories, cultivation, lifespan.

Zhang Fusheng had visualized the Contract Book between his brows two days ago, after mastering [Visualization].

At first, it had been dim and unusable. But it had gradually brightened, bit by bit. Just moments ago, it had finally begun to shine, and he could now carry out one [sale]—or rather, one [transaction].

According to the information naturally conveyed by the Contract Book, there were no restrictions on its use. Anyone could be a transaction target, but—

The target of the transaction had to desire the transaction completely and sincerely, from the bottom of their heart.

They could not be coerced.

Like the devils in Western tales: they bought souls, yet those whose souls were bought did so willingly, because the devils offered a price they could not refuse.

So how could he make a genius sell him their talent? How could he make someone who had practiced the blade for years sell him their blade techniques? How could he make a long-lived person sell him their lifespan?

How could he earn his first pot of gold—or rather, complete his first [transaction]?

That was a problem.

Zhang Fusheng had considered seeking out a renowned great figure whose life was nearing its end and selling them lifespan, but then another problem arose.

In any era, an introduction was of paramount importance.

Not to mention that he had no way of even meeting such a great figure.

Nor how he could make that great figure believe he possessed such a miraculous ability.

Just consider what would happen after he sold lifespan.

A common man was innocent, but possessing a jade was a crime. He could foresee that he would be kept in captivity, endlessly transacting with one person after another, while all the gains from every transaction flowed to that great figure.

"Old Zhang."

Zhu Xiaoming rubbed his shiny bald head.

"How about I tell my dad and have him lend you some money first? No interest. You can pay him back after you make it big."

Zhu Xiaoming was Zhang Fusheng's best friend from high school, an incoming freshman in Jiangzhou University's Martial Arts Department. His family was well-off, and his father owned a construction company.

Zhang Fusheng shook his head.

"Forget it. What I lack isn't that hundred thousand yuan. It's talent. You mastered the Visualization Method in your first year of high school, while I only got started two days ago."

He sighed softly. He too was an incoming freshman at Jiang University, but unlike Old Zhu, who was entering the Martial Arts Department, he was entering the Computer Science Department.

Besides academic score requirements, Jiang University's Martial Arts Department required applicants to cultivate at least one of the Visualization Method and Breathing Technique to Minor Accomplishment before the college entrance exams. The former tested comprehension, while the latter examined innate aptitude.

Zhu Xiaoming said somewhat guiltily:

"You know my situation. What talent do I have? I was entirely piled up with my dad's money. Someone like Chen Nuanyu—that's what you call talent. Never mind her excellent academic scores; both her Visualization Method and Breathing Technique have reached Great Accomplishment. I heard she's practically a martial artist already, and she was directly admitted to Jiang University's Martial Arts Department."

Chen Nuanyu was the cream of the crop in Linshu Middle School's Elite Class, a heavenly daughter one could only admire from afar.

Of course, they knew Chen Nuanyu, but Chen Nuanyu did not know them.

"Talent..." Zhang Fusheng sighed. "My neighbor, Old Master Wang, has practiced the Visualization Method for fifty years. Even today, he has never entered the gate and cannot sense the Mysterious Factor. I'm a little better off, but not by much."

Zhu Xiaoming comforted him.

"Studying computer science isn't bad either. Jobs are easy to find, and the Federation places great importance on AI Technology these days. Martial arts isn't the only path."

Zhang Fusheng shook his head.

"Isn't the Federation developing artificial intelligence to serve [martial artists]? Martial arts may not be the only path, but it is the best path."

"Since we've come to this world for a single journey, how can we not strive toward the mountaintop? I want to know what it feels like to fly through the sky too."

Zhu Xiaoming fell silent for a moment, then said in confusion:

"Old Zhang, I feel like you've changed a little."

"Changed how?" Zhang Fusheng smiled. "Become more confident?"

"No."

Zhu Xiaoming shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"You've become unrealistic."

Zhang Fusheng burst out laughing.

"Alright, I need to head back and help out. See you later."

"See you."

The two parted ways at the intersection. One returned to the prosperous Mid-Level District, while the other headed toward the Lower-Level District, which seemed forever shrouded in a layer of gloom.

The Federation was a Federation with clear class divisions. Even its urban districts were ranked into grades, from one through nine. The smaller the number, the wealthier, more prosperous, more peaceful, and more tranquil the district.

Zhang Fusheng lived in the Seventh District. It was not a slum, merely a place where ordinary common folk lived.

It was just that his father was not quite ordinary.

After passing rows of shops on both sides of the street, he turned into a dark alley that led directly to the Eighth District and Ninth District. Ignoring the flamboyantly dressed prostitutes who cast seductive glances at him, Zhang Fusheng finally stopped before a small clinic.

The clinic door was tightly shut, with a Closed sign hanging outside—proof that it was doing business.

He entered the clinic and turned into the basement.

In the dim basement, a middle-aged man in a white coat was calmly performing surgery.

On the crude operating table lay a cool and aloof young girl.

The girl held a pistol in her hand, its dark muzzle aimed directly at the doctor. When she saw someone enter, she swung the muzzle toward Zhang Fusheng.

"Dad." Zhang Fusheng ignored the gun pointed at him and called softly.

He glanced at the girl.

The heavenly daughter of Linshu Middle School, the best high school in the Mid-Level District—Chen Nuanyu, a student directly admitted to Jiang University's Martial Arts Department.