Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 120
“You really won’t rent my room?” Popo was reluctant to give up, but Eugene could already see the inn from last night—in the deep of the night, with no moon in the sky, all he could remember of that building was a door lit by a light and the word “Inn” painted in green above it.
Now, in the daylight, he could see that it was indeed a makeshift structure. The person who built this house seemed to care little for safety or aesthetics; they just kept adding wherever possible, resulting in an increasingly tall and oddly shaped building. Upon close inspection, one would wonder how the rickety base layer managed to not collapse yet.
It was probably thanks to the neighboring houses that these cramped structures almost served the function of beams and columns, holding the inn tightly in place and leaving no room for it to fall.
“It’s closer to the main road,” Eugene muttered, with a somewhat reluctant air.
Popo understood. “You still want to go back to the inner city.”
He seemed to have pegged Eugene as someone who had come to White Bridge to enjoy life, a guy who had unfortunately squandered all his assets and ended up on Paradise Island out of necessity. Truthfully, there were many such people on Paradise Island.
The pattern was almost the same. At first, they all looked down on the dirt and disarray here, still wanting to use their last bit of money to retain some dignity and respect, believing their downfall was just a temporary slip. They thought that once they saved enough to turn things around, they could return to that dazzling world, with Paradise Island being nothing but a brief nightmare.
But there usually were only two outcomes: one was that they indeed left and never came back, which usually meant they died; the second was that their expenses outpaced their income, gradually moving from staying in an inn eating oatmeal to eating black bread, spending less money to rent a small space just to stay dry on the floor of a native’s home, and finally giving up everything, lying next to a stinking ditch waiting for either a miracle or death to find them.
Some could indeed settle down here and become part of Paradise Island, but they would end up like Popo, having a dirty and smelly place to stay and barely making ends meet from meal to meal.
He was convinced that Eugene would eventually experience the second phase of sharing accommodation with the natives, only hoping that by then his money hadn’t run out, so he could still make a bit more. After all, his house was indeed far from the main road, and few newcomers could navigate their way there. This place was full of people wanting to squeeze the newcomers dry, and he couldn’t spend all day waiting at the inn door for Eugene to have no other choice.
Besides, Eugene was quite generous, giving two copper coins just for being shown the way.
So he took the initiative to offer to help Eugene find a job, and if it worked out, he would take Eugene’s first three days’ wages. If not, he would only charge five copper coins.
This was exactly what Eugene was waiting for.
He knew Popo seemed young and cheerful, but he was actually very cautious. His words were half true, half false, and the warmth he showed was just treating him like a cash cow.
But that was alright.
As the shopkeeper once said: A transaction with a clear price is more trustworthy than insincere favors. If a stranger shows no clear interest in you but is overly enthusiastic, then you need to worry about the real cost he might expect, which you probably can’t afford.
“There are many job opportunities on Paradise Island—why the face? It’s true. I dare say people here work much longer hours than those in the inner city. The largest bakeries and laundries are all here, on the other side. There are also jobs cleaning the sewers in the inner city that are always hiring,” Popo said. “You’re very lucky to have met me. The jobs at Jason’s might pay a bit less, but they’re safe.”
Jason was considered a guild leader, one of the few who could directly deal with people from the “inner city”. Known for his generous and loyal personality, he was elected leader ten years ago and had since fought for many rights for the natives.
Many cities had similar labor organizations where leaders usually had high prestige and were indeed relatively trustworthy.
Popo took money to arrange things, agreeing to connect Eugene with Jason.
While waiting for Popo’s response, Eugene didn’t idle around. He tried to map out the general shape of Paradise Island by walking, only to find that the area was almost a huge maze. Every day, shacks collapsed, and every day new “houses” were built. A path he had passed just the day before could be blocked today by a row of barrels planted with tomatoes.
Even those born and raised here could hardly draw an accurate map. They could only distinguish general directions by memory and keep walking—the more detours there were, the more important it was to keep the direction correct to reach the destination.
Eugene thought it would take at least a week before he might meet Jason, but three days later, Popo came looking for him.
This outgoing young man seemed quite envious of the owner of the “inn” where Eugene stayed. To him, this ancestral property was like a hen that laid golden eggs, simply sitting and waiting each day for guests to pay—so easy and wealthy!
There were classes even within Paradise Island, and the owner, resembling an old elephant, clearly belonged to the upper class.
In terms of status, Jason also belonged to the upper class but was much poorer. When Eugene met him, this burly man was squatting on the ground, trying to repair a badly cracked wooden barrel. His short coat was so tattered that his distinctly defined muscles under the frayed fabric looked comically out of place.
“What’s your name?” Jason asked without looking up, gauging with a bent nail on the wood.
“Eugene.” Following his instinct, Eugene decided to tell the truth—despite his disheveled appearance, this man’s demeanor wasn’t on the same level as Popo’s, and a clumsy deception might backfire.
“Popo said you can read.” Jason hammered down. The board didn’t break, but the nail was smashed into a lump.
Eugene: “……”
Could he really read? He had only learned some common words in his spare time with the shopkeeper and Shiloh, knew fewer words than Amber, and couldn’t read newspapers independently.
He felt rather guilty.
Seeing him silent, Jason looked up. He was only about thirty years old, with a high nose and deep-set eyes, rough skin, and a bright gaze.
“I know some common words,” Eugene said. “But I’m not good with numbers. If it’s about bookkeeping—”
“It’s not for bookkeeping,” Jason said. “We need a teacher.”
“Oh, for children?” Eugene understood, gaining confidence. “Simple numbers and words are no problem!”
Jason gave him a strange look. “Paradise Island wouldn’t let someone whose background is unknown teach children. Your students will be me and other brothers.”
He offered a surprisingly high price. Popo was very envious, but when Jason said Popo could also join the classes, he quickly slipped away.
Jason, rough in appearance, was actually very meticulous and requested that Eugene give him a free trial lesson before deciding on the deal.
Eugene thought for a moment, then sat down cross-legged on the ground beside him, casually picking up a stick and writing the numbers one to ten on the ground.
The muscular man watched the characters intently for a while before nodding.
“It seems you’re not a swindler,” he said.
Jason was somewhat of a foreman, usually responsible for gathering labor when the inner city needed a large workforce.
“Ship hulls and cargo crates are marked with numbers. I’ve taught myself a bit,” Jason explained. “But I don’t know if it’s correct.”
“Why not ask someone?” Eugene wondered. “To verify it with someone.”
“Because poor people aren’t entitled to learn,” Jason said. “Especially people from Paradise Island.”
The coarse among them weren’t deemed worthy of literature, music, or history. This was the consensus of the two major families of White Bridge.
Perhaps because he had been with the Duke for so long, Eugene found this reasoning laughable.
He himself hadn’t even managed to claw his way into the circle of nobility yet, and here he was, putting on airs and looking down on the poor.
He didn’t know that to Jason, he seemed like a godsend. The Wolves and Monkeys not only completely monopolized White Bridge’s economic lifeline but also controlled the educational avenues out of Paradise Island. Those qualified to teach were neither allowed nor would they willingly step into Paradise Island. Although there wasn’t an explicit ban on the residents of Paradise Island learning to read, if there was no one to teach, who could naturally possess the ability to read and write?
Only someone like Eugene, an outsider who had fallen into Paradise Island and happened to know some letters, could give these residents a glimpse of a minuscule spark of civilization.
This was why, even though most residents were illiterate, one still saw signs like “Inn” or “Cold Food” everywhere. Many may not speak the common language, but they could clumsily spell out their names.
The transmission had never been complete, but it had also never been truly broken.
Admittedly, on any continent, those who received an education were usually from a relatively better-off group, but even during his illiterate thief days, Eugene never thought literacy was useful. He remembered common numbers and words partly because of rabbit-headed shopkeeper enticements and partly because Amber’s studiousness spurred him on through a catfish effect.
Even when he began to be able to stutter through reading, he didn’t do anything productive with it. Instead, he spent quite a bit of money buying erotica from alley vendors. The shopkeeper and the Duke seemed to only expect him to keep making progress, not to achieve any scholarly feats.
So when Jason openly showed respect and desire for his literacy, the usually nonchalant Eugene felt unusually embarrassed.
“If you want to learn, I’ll teach you.” Eugene wrote down “Paradise Island” on the ground. “No need to call me teacher.”
Even with thick skin, he felt too embarrassed to accept that title—he had never even called the rabbit-headed shopkeeper or Shiloh that.
“You don’t understand,” Jason also sat down cross-legged on the ground with a calm expression. “What does this mean for us? We have hands, legs, and brains, but in front of the higher-ups, we might as well be monkeys because even if the schemes are laid out in front of us, we can’t see them. The dilapidated Paradise Island was built by us, the exquisite inner city as well, from our hands. Many people get cheated, and can only come to me, but I am far more powerless than they think.”
“Popo says you’re the most reliable person,” Eugene said instinctively.
“That’s because everyone needs someone like me to not seem too—” Jason suddenly stopped talking.
Eugene understood. “You mean like ‘them’. Popo told me.”
Jason frowned deeply, seemingly annoyed at Popo’s lack of discretion, but then he relaxed, remembering Eugene was a “teacher”.
“In their eyes, we are just insignificant ants, easy to crush and dispose of,” Jason said. “We don’t talk about this.”
No matter how Eugene tried to get more information, Jason no longer disclosed anything, but the opposition between Paradise Island and the inner city was undeniable.
Jason hadn’t fully trusted Eugene, partly out of caution and partly because those in a disadvantaged position didn’t often recount their tragic histories.
But he didn’t believe Eugene was a spy sent by the Wolves or Monkeys either, simply because, in the eyes of the inner city, such an act was unnecessary.
They controlled wealth and armed forces. If it weren’t for the need to rely on a large amount of cheap labor to keep the city running, the two families would probably be happy to push the entire Paradise Island into the river and build another city that never slept in its place.
Jason knew that Popo and many other young people somewhat idolized him, thinking he was the most courageous and competent person, so he wasn’t used to revealing his vulnerabilities to anyone.
Jason didn’t let Eugene work for free for too long. Although eager to learn, after recording three phrases, Jason ended the trial lesson, agreed on a price that satisfied both parties, and set the next evening for the official start of lessons—before then, he wanted to gather all his brothers who wanted to learn to read and write like him.
Only when the moon was high in the sky did Jason finish notifying a few core members of the brotherhood. By this time, except for some workshops that operated day and night, most of Paradise Island had fallen into deep sleep.
Not wanting to navigate the overly narrow paths in the dark, Jason, a large man prone to bumping into carelessly placed obstacles, purposely took a long detour along the riverbank.
There was no rain tonight, and the moon was bright. Jason watched his reflection in the water and started slowing down his steps.
He remembered Al being sent back.
Al was a guy younger than Popo, tall, and because of his good looks, was selected to be trained as a servant lighting cigarettes for guests in the inner city.
Then today, that tall young man was brought back in a wooden crate, not even personally by the Monkeys but by two hired men who brought the crate in, along with a bag of coins.
Jason went to console Al’s mother, but no one saw how frantic he was.
Because his brother, like Al, was taken away for his fair and handsome appearance.
He hadn’t come back yet.
Jason hoped for his return but also feared it. As the leader of the brotherhood, he couldn’t show his anxiety in front of others, but under the moon’s gaze, Jason involuntarily stopped walking.
“Don’t worry, brother,” his brother had said before leaving. “I’ll try my best. I’m just going to the inner city. It’s so close… When you see the moon getting rounder, I can see it too.”
Jason looked at the moon’s reflection and took a deep breath.
He didn’t believe in prayers because Paradise Island had never been blessed.
But if there truly was a god out there who could hear wishes, could He please give him a sign to let him know his brother was alright?
Just as he stared at the water, the normally still reflection of the moon suddenly trembled.
Jason’s body reacted faster than his brain, and he immediately stepped back, distancing himself from the water.
The river surface bizarrely formed a whirlpool, as if an invisible large fish was turning beneath the surface—but the water here was too shallow for any large fish.
As he stared at the water, considering whether to shout for help, he heard a “splash” as a shadow broke through the water.
The moon’s reflection shattered into many pieces.
The author has something to say:
Jason: God, please give me a sign.
Sign: Who’s so inconsiderate to order takeout in the middle of the night?
Does anyone remember Kurt’s side job writing erotica?
It doesn’t sell well, but there are buyers, like Eugene, with his unusual tastes.
Kinky Thoughts:
Guess his sign is Rabbit.
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