Chapter 112: The Outsider (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

A gray-white city wall, about three meters high, stood ahead, stretching to both sides until the edge of Lu Mi’s vision.

Numerous private carriages, four-seater carriages, open-top carriages, coupled carriages, and freight wagons lined up in queues, waiting to pass through the city gate.

There, blue-uniformed tax officials and police in white shirts and black waistcoats inspected each vehicle, occasionally demanding that passersby produce identification or open their suitcases.

Lu Mi, carrying a brown suitcase, gazed toward them, glancing around occasionally, searching for a way to bypass the checkpoint.

Soon, a man noticed his behavior and approached.

“What’s wrong, friend? I can tell you’re troubled.” The man was slightly shorter than Lu Mi but twice as wide, his cheeks bulging and squeezing his blue eyes into tiny slits.

As soon as he drew near, the stench of sweat and cheap perfume filled Lu Mi’s nostrils, making him involuntarily frown.

Lu Mi pointed at the gate and asked, bewildered:

“What are they doing?”

“Looking for fugitives? But why check only those entering Triel, not those leaving?”

The man, with messy yellow hair and a blue short jacket stretched tight over his bulk, sized up Lu Mi for a moment:

“My friend, you’re from a small town or the countryside?”

Seeing Lu Mi nod, he sighed:

“They’re collecting taxes! Entry tax!”

“Customs on goods entering Triel’s market?” Lu Mi asked.

The man nodded:

“Yes. This wall encircles all of Triel, with fifty-four gates, each manned by tax officials and police—also handy for catching fugitives.”

“Do they tax everything?” Lu Mi asked curiously.

The man patted his canvas blue jacket:

“Almost everything. Only grains and flour are exempt from entry tax.”

“There used to be taxes on food too, but a few years ago there was a war—Triel’s bread prices skyrocketed, sparking protests and riots. The government eventually abolished all food entry taxes.”

“Ah, why don’t drunkards do the same? Now, spirits, wine, and champagne have the highest rates. Many people head to the outskirts on weekends to drink tax-free liquor at small taverns—they call it ‘gate liquor.’”

“I see…” Lu Mi nodded thoughtfully.

The man glanced left and right, then lowered his voice:

“If you’ve got something you don’t want to pay tax on, I can get you into the city—for a small fee.”

“You’re bribing them?” Lu Mi nodded toward the tax officials and police at the gate.

The man snorted:

“Their greed is bigger than an elephant’s.”

“I’ll take you through a path without checkpoints.”

“Isn’t Triel entirely surrounded by this wall?” Lu Mi didn’t hide his confusion.

The man smiled:

“You’ll see soon.”

He added with a teasing tone:

“Esteemed sir, would you like my services?”

Lu Mi thought for a moment:

“How much?”

“Three Faeljin,” the man grinned warmly. “If you’re willing, we can leave now. Pay me once we’re inside the city.”

“Fine.” Lu Mi pressed down his dark wide-brimmed hat, picked up his brown suitcase, and followed the fat man away from the gate.

Fifteen minutes later, the two reached a hill where vegetation and soil had been torn away, exposing gray-white stone.

There were scaffolds, rotted sleepers, and many obvious pits—clearly an abandoned mine.

The fat man led Lu Mi through piles of scattered rocks to the entrance of a mine shaft.

“This is the path?” Lu Mi asked, wary.

The man in the blue jacket chuckled:

“You really know nothing about Triel.”

“Haven’t you heard the saying? The underground Triel is bigger than the one above ground!”

“No.” Lu Mi shook his head.

The man explained simply:

“Old Triel was much smaller, surrounded entirely by quarries used to build the city. As the population grew, the city expanded outward, swallowing these quarries. Now the ground beneath is full of hollows and tunnels.”

“Add to that the Triel that sank during the Fourth Epoch, plus the sewers, subways, and gas pipes the government dug—doesn’t that dwarf the surface?”

Lu Mi’s expression cleared with sudden understanding:

“You’re taking me through underground Triel?”

“Yes.” The man turned, bent to enter the mine shaft, and asked casually, “What’s your name?”

“Xia Er.” Lu Mi touched his golden temple hair. “And you?”

“Call me La Maye.” The man, nearly twice Lu Mi’s width, rummaged through a pile of rocks in the corner and pulled out an iron-black lantern.

The lantern was clearly metal, rusted on the surface, cylindrical in shape, narrower at the top than the bottom by slightly less than a finger’s width, with a black rubber base at the very bottom.

Where the narrow and wide cylinders joined, a trumpet-shaped metal piece was embedded—cleaned and polished smooth, yet still rusted in a few spots.

La Maye pulled out a matchbox, fiddled for a moment, and immediately an orange-yellow flame tinged with blue flared from the metal trumpet, illuminating the depths of the mine.

“What’s this?” Lu Mi asked, his expression plainly curious.

La Maye lifted the iron-black lantern and walked downward, muttering:

“Calcium carbide lamp.”

“The Cave Society came up with it. Many miners use them. I don’t know why it lights up—just put some rocks and water in, one in the bottom, one on top. When you need it, press here and light the trumpet mouth.”

Calcium carbide reacting with water to produce acetylene, which burns and emits light? Lu Mi recalled his chemistry studies from months ago.

He fell silent for a long while, until he followed La Maye deeper underground, walking along an abandoned mine tunnel, then asked: “Cave Society?”

“The Triel Cave Society—a group of people who love exploring and studying caves. Now they seem to be meddling in mine affairs too.” La Maye glanced sideways at Lu Mi walking beside him and grinned. “Why didn’t you just take the steam train into Triel? The station checkpoint is always lax—just random checks.”

Lu Mi recalled:

“I mainly wanted to experience the last bit of romance from the classical era.”

“Stagecoach?” La Maye laughed. “That’s way more expensive than the steam train. I hear your accent is from Lim or Leiston—traveling from the southernmost point to Triel costs about 120 Faeljin and takes four and a half days! By steam train, third-class is under 50 Faeljin, under twenty hours. Ha! What ‘last bit of classical romance’—that’s just fooling people like you… uh, you spent a lot, didn’t you?”

Lu Mi answered honestly:

“Yes, quite a bit. I’ve only got 267 Faeljin left.”

La Maye glanced at him again, then looked away:

“What a waste…”

He carried the metal calcium carbide lamp, its orange-yellow flame tinged with blue lighting the way, passed through an arch-like opening, and turned onto another path.

Lu Mi looked up and saw dark, slumbering stone above, dotted here and there with moss, water droplets dripping down.

The ground beneath his feet was uneven, flanked by rows of stone pillars supporting the ceiling.

Between the pillars lay piles of rocks and debris, forming parallel walls that created a “street” wide enough for six or seven people to walk side by side.

Illuminated by the lamp’s glow, a steel plaque on one pillar bore inscriptions in Intis script:

“Right Street.”

“There are street names here?” Lu Mi asked, puzzled.

La Maye, carrying the calcium carbide lamp, chuckled:

“Didn’t I tell you? This is underground Triel.”

“Well, actually, it was done during a municipal renovation decades ago. Those men with false collars thought the underground was too chaotic—a maze where rioters, murderers, smugglers, and cultists all hid. They had to bring order. Also, many buildings collapsed or sank due to hollowed-out quarries below, so the city hall spent nearly ten years reinforcing pillars, laying foundations, and connecting the once-separate quarries, underground ruins, crypts, and sewers.”

“To keep workers from getting lost, they mirrored the surface layout—streets, squares, alleys were all replicated here, labeled with matching street signs. Now, when repairs are needed, they just report the street name.”

“So…” Lu Mi pointed upward with his free right hand, “the real Right Street is above us?”

“Yes.” La Maye kept walking. “This is underground Triel. Oh, ahead is an anti-smuggling wall. Quarry police patrol often, but don’t worry—I’ll take you through a small tunnel to bypass it. Ha! Those men with false collars and lies think they can control underground Triel like they do the surface—but they only know about half the exits and modified routes…”

As he spoke, he led Lu Mi to a dead end, found a narrow crack, and squeezed through. Lu Mi followed.

Two or three minutes later, they emerged from the tunnel into another corridor of stone pillars and the “street” between them.

At that moment, a burly figure stood beside a pillar, holding a calcium carbide lamp, asking La Maye:

“Our guest?”

La Maye turned to Lu Mi and grinned:

“Outsider, I’ve changed my mind. The fee is 265 Faeljin. Aren’t I kind? I even left you enough for bread and a hotel room today.”

“What if I… don’t pay?” Lu Mi’s face showed fear, mixed with defiance.

La Maye’s fat cheeks jiggled as he laughed:

“What do you think will happen?”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to trust strangers too easily when you’re away from home?”

He and the burly man advanced toward Lu Mi from opposite sides.

Lu Mi laughed too, bent down, and set his suitcase aside.

He walked toward La Maye and his companion.

In the flickering light, seconds passed quickly—the calcium carbide lamp was now in Lu Mi’s hand.

He crouched beside La Maye, face swollen and trembling, pulled all the banknotes from his wallet, and counted them carefully under the orange-red flame tinged with blue.

He then slapped the stack of bills against La Maye’s right cheek and smiled:

There are only 319 Ferkjin left.

Saying this, Lu Mi put away the banknotes and walked toward a path that seemed to lead upward.

The stone pillars there bore plaques inscribed with two rows of Intis script:

“Honest Man Market District, Night Urine Street.”

Among them, “Night Urine Street” had been scratched out with stone, and beside it a new name had been added:

“Chaos Street.”

PS: Regular update today; adjustments made—extra chapters tomorrow and the day after. Requesting monthly votes~

PS2: Thank you to reader 20230421181603541 for the Bai Yin alliance donation.

(End of chapter)