At dusk, the setting sun stretched the shadows of the carriage and horses long across the ground.
"Sir, judging by your appearance, you're heading to the Harbor District on business, aren't you?" The coachman flicked his whip and struck up a conversation.
Lin Chuan gave a faint "Mm" and said nothing more. His mind was clearly elsewhere.
"Business is hard these days. Several import and export companies have seen their earnings fall because of the situation in the Southern Continent. They've had no choice but to lay off a lot of workers."
The coachman continued grumbling:
"But at least they still have business to do. What about the likes of us? We drive from six in the morning to nine at night, and our weekly pay is only a pound. Even the pitiful few rest days we get are really for the horses."
"We work ourselves to death for that little bit of pay. How's that supposed to keep a whole family alive...?"
At this point, the coachman sneaked a glance at the back seat out of the corner of his eye. Seeing that the respectably dressed young gentleman still showed no reaction, he reluctantly abandoned his hopes.
After several attempts to make conversation went unanswered, he understood that his passenger had no desire to chat, much less casually toss him a tip. He could only sigh in frustration and focus on driving.
What a shame. I haven't even asked this gentleman what I wanted to know... I heard some strange place called the Mutual Aid Society has sprung up in the Harbor District lately and gives out bread. Even the gangs don't dare cause trouble there.
*I was going to ask whether he knew if it was true. If there really is something that good, I could go