Chapter 631: Cooperation

Half a month was enough for a person to get used to another city.

The sky of Fog City was always gray; Erik could no longer remember the last time he had seen the sun.

Every morning when he climbed out of bed, the view outside the window was exactly the same as the day before.

The days were like the gears constantly turning in the factory—monotonous, repetitive, and endless.

But recently, a tiny, insignificant change had appeared in his life.

That old bookstore.

Erik himself couldn't explain clearly why he would unconsciously turn into that alley every day after work and push open that creaking wooden door.

Even though he had never spent a single cent in that shop.

He had flipped through a few of those old books, but he couldn't recognize most of the characters, and even if he did, he couldn't understand them.

He wasn't the type to read books.

Yet, he still wanted to go.

There was a very strange temperament about the young boss sitting in the rocking chair.

But as for what specific temperament it was, Erik had thought about it for a long time and still couldn't come up with an accurate word.

It was probably that feeling of "there being a layer of something separating him from this world."

Clearly, the person was sitting right there, clearly talking to you, but you just felt that his attention was elsewhere, looking at things you couldn't see.

Erik had been told he was "too sensitive" by his mother since he was a child.

He could sense things others couldn't: who was in a bad mood, who was lying, who was carrying something "unclean" on them.

This sensitivity had helped him dodge several major accidents at the factory and had allowed him to live safely in this city rampant with anomalies until the age of twenty-six, having only injured a few fingers.

So, when he first walked into that old bookstore and sensed that indescribable aura on Jie Ming, his first reaction wasn't fear, but curiosity.

A young man about his age, running a "black clinic" disguised as an old bookstore, yet carrying an aura that even someone with his high perception couldn't see through.

What was this guy's background?

Erik didn't know, but he wanted to find out.

Thus, for the past half-month, every afternoon after getting off work at the factory, he would turn into that old bookstore on his way home.

The time was usually before dusk.

After all, he didn't dare to wander outside after nightfall.

But during that time before dusk, the sky was still bright, and the gas lamps on the street had already been lit, making it safe enough.

He would push open the door, nod to Jie Ming in the rocking chair, then stand by the bookshelf for a while, flipping through those old books he didn't quite understand.

Sometimes he would chat a few sentences, sometimes he would just stay silently for ten minutes or so, then go home.

Jie Ming would never chase him away, but he would never appear particularly enthusiastic either.

Most of the time, Jie Ming would just sit in that rocking chair, holding a newspaper, reading slowly.

Occasionally turning a page, occasionally picking up the teacup on the table to take a sip of water, occasionally looking up at the sky outside the window.

The two of them would just be like this—one sitting, one standing—separated by an oil lamp and a pile of old books, each silent.

Today was the fifteenth day.

When Erik familiarly pushed open the wooden door of the old bookstore, the sky had already begun to darken.

Most of the gas lamps on the street were lit, and the orange-yellow light passed through the thick fog, casting a blurry halo on the damp stone slab road.

Jie Ming was sitting in the rocking chair as usual, holding a newspaper in his hand.

He looked up at Erik, nodded slightly as a greeting, and then continued reading the paper.

As for this little guy, Jie Ming was actually indifferent.

He didn't really need to obtain any information from Erik; after all, during the day, even if he only expanded his spiritual sense quite gently, Jie Ming could cover the entire city to obtain all kinds of intelligence.

The reason he was willing to interact with Erik was because such a rare high-perception talent gave Jie Ming an idea.

Erik stood still by the bookshelf and pulled out a book at random.

He flipped through two pages, found he couldn't take in a single word, so he put it back, leaned against the bookshelf, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"When are you going to wire this place for electricity?" he asked.

Jie Ming stopped the motion of turning the newspaper and looked up.

"Electricity?"

"Yeah." Erik pointed at the oil lamp overhead. "You're a bookstore, lighting oil lamps every day; if you accidentally set the books on fire one day, your shop will be gone. And who uses oil lamps anymore? Even the bakery on the next street has switched to electric lights."

Jie Ming looked at that oil lamp, then at Erik, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

"I'm used to it," he said.

"You can't risk your life just because you're used to it." Erik shook his head. "If you think wiring is a hassle, I can help you ask around. Old Jack downstairs is an electrician; his fees aren't high."

Jie Ming didn't respond and just turned the newspaper to the next page.

Erik was already used to this attitude of his and didn't mind, continuing to talk to himself: "And it's too dark in here; customers can't even see the books on the shelves when they come in. Although, your shop... isn't really selling books, right? But you should still put on a good show."

Jie Ming didn't respond and just turned the newspaper to the next page.

Erik was already used to this attitude of his and didn't mind, continuing to talk to himself: "And it's too dark in here; customers can't even see the books on the shelves when they come in. Although, your shop... isn't really selling books, right? But you should still put on a good show."

Jie Ming looked up at him but didn't speak.

Erik tactfully shut his mouth, but the smile at the corners of his mouth couldn't be hidden.

Over the past half-month, he had figured out Jie Ming's temper.

This person didn't like others prying into his affairs, but he wasn't averse to Erik's behavior of "coming over to say a few useless words for no reason."

Just as Erik was preparing to find another topic, the door rang.

The door hinge made a creaking sound, and a figure walked in from the twilight.

Erik turned his head.

The person who entered was a man, looking to be in his thirties, wearing a dark gray trench coat, carrying a medium-sized suitcase in his hand.

His appearance was very ordinary.

Not tall, not short, not fat, not thin, with no distinctive features on his face, belonging to the type that you could never find again once thrown into a crowd.

But the moment Erik saw him, his body instinctively tensed up.

He couldn't say why.

The way this person dressed, the posture of his walk, even the frequency of his breathing, all looked like an ordinary traveler.

But his intuition was frantically sounding the alarm: No, this person is wrong!

It was a deeper sense of disharmony.

It was like seeing someone wearing a left shoe on their right foot; at a glance, it seemed there was no problem, but you always felt something was off.

Erik instinctively took half a step back, his shoulder hitting the bookshelf and making a slight sound.

The man turned his head at the sound, his gaze landing on Erik, the corners of his mouth curving slightly to reveal a standard, polite smile.

"Good evening," he said, his voice calm.

Then his gaze passed over Erik and looked at Jie Ming, who was sitting in the rocking chair.

The duration of the gaze was very short, so short that an ordinary person wouldn't have noticed, but Erik caught it.

That kind of gaze wasn't a customer looking at a shopkeeper, but... a subordinate looking at a superior.

Erik's heartbeat accelerated a beat.

He suddenly realized his current situation.

He was just an ordinary worker and shouldn't have appeared in this shop at this time.

This person was clearly here to find Jie Ming, and he wasn't looking for "old bookstore owner" Jie Ming, but "black clinic doctor" Jie Ming.

He should leave.

But that person's gaze turned back and landed on Erik.

He scrutinized Erik, his eyes looking as if he were evaluating a piece of merchandise whose value he wasn't quite sure of.

"This is..." the man looked at Jie Ming, his tone carrying a hint of inquiry.

Jie Ming didn't answer.

He put down the newspaper in his hand and stood up from the rocking chair.

His movements were slow, but Erik noticed that the moment he stood up, the air in the room seemed to become "heavy."

"Erik," Jie Ming spoke, his voice as calm as usual, "it's already very late."

Erik was stunned for a moment, then immediately understood the meaning of these words.

It's already very late; you should go back.

"Ah, right, it's getting dark." Erik gave a dry laugh, walked out from beside the bookshelf, and headed toward the door. "I almost forgot, I have to help my aunt move some things on the next street tonight. You guys talk, you guys talk."

He didn't look at the man's face as he passed by him.

But his perception told him that the person's gaze had remained glued to him until he walked out the door.

The wooden door closed behind him.

Erik stood on the damp stone slab road, took a deep breath, and exhaled a long one.

He looked down at his hands; his fingertips were trembling slightly.

But... it didn't seem to be fear.

He clenched his fists tightly and instinctively looked back at that tightly closed wooden door.

Through the crack in the door, he could see the light of the oil lamp flickering.

Erik shook his head and turned to walk toward his apartment building.

He didn't want to know what that person had come to find Jie Ming for, didn't want to know what was in that suitcase, didn't want to know what the two were going to do next.

Although he did have curiosity, although he could probably guess what that person was looking for from Jie Ming, the black doctor, he knew that things he "shouldn't think about" were best left unthought.

This was the most important lesson he had learned in his twenty-six years of living in Fog City.

Inside the old bookstore, the flame of the oil lamp flickered in the breeze.

Jie Ming stood by the bookshelf, watching Erik's figure disappear through the crack in the door, then turned around to look at the man carrying the suitcase.

The man's expression changed the moment Erik left.

His expression changed from that polite smile to a kind of fawning, ingratiating smile.

His shoulders sank slightly, his spine bent into an inconspicuous but real arc, and his whole person seemed to shrink by several centimeters in an instant.

The light in the underground clinic was much brighter than upstairs.

Several gas lamps hung on the walls, their white light illuminating the entire room brightly but not harshly.

Examination bed, medicine cabinet, surgical instruments—everything was as tidy as it had been half a month ago.

Jie Ming walked to the medicine cabinet and took out a metal box from the very back.

The box wasn't large, about the size of two palms, with no markings on the surface, crafted with precision, and the corners were rounded.

He placed the box on the examination bed and opened it.

Inside the box, ten sealed glass test tubes were arranged neatly.

The liquid in the tubes presented a deep blue color, faintly glowing with fluorescence under the light.

The mouth of each tube was double-sealed with wax and a metal band, and the labels were written with numbers and dates.

The man's eyes lit up the moment he saw those test tubes.

His Adam's apple rolled up and down, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and then he approached cautiously, his gaze never leaving those tubes.

"Mr. Jie Ming, these are..."

"They've already been processed." Jie Ming's tone was very flat, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself. "The initial foundation of the product you provided was too poor; I've optimized the formula structure at most. The success rate after taking it should be able to increase by about five percent."

"Five percent..." The man's voice trembled slightly.

He reached out, his fingers hovering over the test tubes for a moment, as if hesitating whether he should touch them.

In the end, he retracted his hand and took a pair of thin leather gloves from his pocket, putting them on carefully.

Only then did he cautiously pick up a test tube and lift it to the light to examine it closely.

The blue liquid flowed slowly in the glass tube, the fluorescence on the surface presenting a delicate, silk-like luster under the light.

The man's eyes stared at that tube of liquid, his pupils dilating slightly.

"Do you know, Mr. Jie Ming?" His voice became a bit ethereal, as if talking to himself. "The success rate of the original version of this medicine is less than five percent. Ten are injected, nine die. But the one who survives can bend an iron rod with their bare hands and run fast enough to catch up with a galloping carriage."

He put down the first one and picked up the second.

"On the black market, one tube of the original version sells for this much." He held up three fingers. "Three hundred bright silver coins. And it's in short supply; you might not even be able to buy it if you have the money. Those big psychic families control the supply, and what flows out is all defective goods."

He examined the test tubes one by one, his movements as gentle as if he were stroking a baby's skin.

"You gave me these ten tubes, and the success rate even increased by five percent." He turned to look at Jie Ming, the fawning smile on his face deepening. "Do you know what this means? It means these ten tubes in my hand are worth twenty or thirty of the original version. Those who have money, have connections, and want power but don't dare to take too big a risk... they will scramble to buy them."

Jie Ming leaned against the medicine cabinet, arms crossed, looking at him expressionlessly.

"Where's the money?"

"Oh, right, right, the money." The man seemed to wake from a dream, hurriedly bending down to pick up the suitcase he had brought.

The suitcase latches popped open, and inside were stacks of banknotes and rolls of coins arranged neatly.

The denominations of the banknotes varied, their colors different, bundled into stacks with rubber bands.

The coins were packed in several small cloth bags, the mouths of the bags tied with ropes.

The man pushed the suitcase toward Jie Ming. "This is the full payment for this time. Please count it. According to your instructions, the coins and banknotes are old money and loose change; there is absolutely no risk!"

Jie Ming glanced down but didn't count it.

"Where are the materials?"

"Brought them, brought them." The man took a small cloth bag from the inside pocket of his trench coat and handed it over respectfully. "I managed to get the few types of materials you asked for last time. These aren't easy to find; I had to entrust several channels to get them."

Jie Ming took the cloth bag and opened it to look.

Inside were several irregularly shaped fragments, grayish-white in color, with a faint luster on the surface.

He turned one of the fragments over in the light, confirmed the material, and then nodded.

"What's the situation outside the city?"

The man's expression became a bit more serious. "Not peaceful. New anomalies have appeared in those towns to the east recently. The official Psychic Association has already sent people to deal with them. It's not clear what level they are yet, but some say they might be Disaster-level, because the losses have been a bit too great."

"Any other news?"

"There's also... someone recently saw people in black robes outside the city, acting suspiciously, not knowing what they were doing. The official side is investigating, but they haven't found anything yet."

Jie Ming kept this information in mind and nodded.

Seeing that he was no longer asking questions, the man's expression returned to that cautious, ingratiating look.

He put the ten test tubes back into the metal box one by one, closed the lid, and then unbuttoned his trench coat, tucking the box against his body.

The box wasn't large, but it still made a noticeable bulge when tucked into his clothes.

The man used the lapels of his trench coat to cover it, checked again, and after confirming there were no obvious traces, he let out a satisfied sigh of relief.

"Then, Mr. Jie Ming, I'll be going."

He bowed deeply to Jie Ming with an unusually respectful expression. "I'll send the next batch of goods in a few days."

Jie Ming didn't see him out, just nodded.

The man's footsteps went up the stairs, followed by the sound of the bookstore's wooden door being opened and then closed, and then the sound of footsteps gradually fading away on the stone slab road.

The basement returned to silence.

Jie Ming looked down at the suitcase at his feet.

The banknotes and coins were arranged neatly inside, with denominations ranging from gold coins to silver coins, as well as some small-denomination banknotes with darker colors.

To be honest, Jie Ming didn't really need this money.

If he needed to, he could completely use alchemy to manufacture all kinds of currency out of thin air.

Although this plane had various anti-counterfeiting technologies, with his level of alchemy, manufacturing currency that couldn't be distinguished from the real thing was an easy task.

Even for gold and silver coins made of precious metals, for Jie Ming, creating them was also easy.

But a doctor with such technology and strength who wanted nothing would be too conspicuous.

So he made a deal with this middleman.

He helped them optimize prohibited gene drugs and improve their success rate; they paid him generous rewards and helped him procure various research materials and collect information inside and outside the city.

Each took what they needed.

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