The Gray Squirrel Clothing Store.
Two logs burned down almost to ash inside the fireplace. Wrapped in an old leather coat, Sier dozed off with his leather boots kicked up onto a moldy wooden table.
Since the end of September last year, business had been dead for nearly four solid months.
Even so, he was not worried about going bankrupt.
It was the same every year.
Come winter, the only patrons visiting his wardrobes were rats. But that did not matter. As soon as winter passed, the streets outside would swarm with people, and business would pick right back up.
Even marauders who had devolved into primitives would look for a pair of pants to put on.
His shop sat right at the bazaar entrance, and this bazaar was the closest one to the main gate of Boulder City.
Wastelanders coming and going through here could spot his sign the moment they stepped into the market.
The clothes priced at two or three chips apiece were the most popular. Even workers from the factory next door could afford them, and wastelanders on a tight budget would consider them as well.
However, the origins of these garments were rarely respectable. Many were stripped off dead bodies, complete with sewn-up bullet holes and blade slashes. The cheaper ones were not even patched.
Caravan guards or mercenaries from out of town tended to spend much more lavishly. The leather jackets and denim jeans hanging on the racks were tailored specifically for them, crafted either by garment factories in the industrial zone or sewn by local tailor shops.
After all, for those who traveled far and wide, whether they would return next year was always up in the air; no one wanted to keep those plastic chips sitting in their pockets.
Before departing, they would trade their chips for cigarettes, liquor, ammo, or even gold, silver, or Legion dinars.
Besides those, clothing was also a solid choice.
As for right now?
Winter had only just ended. The streets were crawling with paupers looking for work. For an open shopkeeper like him, it was naturally time to rest and gather strength.
Sier was in the middle of a dream where he held a woman in each arm when a sudden blast of cold air gusted through the door crack, snapping him awake with a shiver.
"Wel... come. You looking to buy clothes?"
Squinting his sleep-deprived eyes, Sier scrutinized the five men who had entered.
The one walking in front was quite young, sixteen or seventeen, but he had likely seen combat—a gunshot scar marked his arm, and a keen edge hid beneath his boyish face.
That was nothing special. Who around here had never seen a gun?
The four behind him, however, were an entirely different story. They gave off the distinct aura characteristic of the Awakened.
It was just that their wide-eyed, country-bumpkin routine—touching this and gawking at that—somewhat shattered his preconceived notions of what the Awakened were like.
Seeing that the fire in the hearth had died out, Ye Shi could not help calling out, "Hey boss, time to throw on some wood!"
Sier stared blankly, failing to understand whatever backwater dialect that was.
"What are you saying?"
The young man in the lead spoke up at once. "He says your fire went out."
"I don't need you telling me that. I know... Firewood isn't free, you know. This isn't outside the city," Sier grumbled under his breath in annoyance. He straightened up in his chair and fixed his eyes on the one person he could communicate with. "You lot are mercenaries, right? What are you looking to buy? Padded coats? Leather jackets? Or... looking to stock up on cheap bulk?"
Xu Shun did not explain. Instead, he looked back at the esteemed gentlemen behind him, who had rolled up their sleeves and were squinting at their VMs to read the "subtitles."
Sier narrowed his eyes slightly. He recognized the devices strapped to their wrists.
He had been daydreaming earlier and failed to notice—these people were actually bluecoats?
How extraordinary!
Not only had those blue mole rats awakened, but they were actually wearing wastelander clothes?
Weren't their blue coats supposed to grow right out of their skin?
"We not buy, want to sell. Heard here want clothes?" Fang Chang strung together a clumsy sentence combining broken Human Alliance tongue and his native language.
The shopkeeper clearly understood nothing.
Xu Shun, however, dealt with the players constantly and caught the drift. Combining it with the translation projected on his VM, he quickly straightened out Fang Chang's grammar and repeated it.
After hearing those words, Sier's brow instantly furrowed.
"Sell?"
"Why come to me to sell clothes? Isn't there a secondhand clothes shop next door?"
Realizing they were not customers, Sier's expression chilled at once, and his impatience grew visible by the second.
Dead men's clothes were bought wholesale by weight, and he kept no scales here.
"The price they offered was too low. We unanimously agreed it was an insult to works of art!" Xu Shun practicedly relayed Fang Chang's words, this time even mimicking the indignant tone.
Sier scoffed, thinking to himself that a bunch of country bumpkins from the outside had no idea what art even meant.
He was about to snap a few mocking remarks and kick them out, but remembering the VMs strapped to their arms, he swallowed the thought.
Bluecoats.
They were bluecoats.
Sier's eyes shifted.
Everyone knew people outside Boulder City were country bumpkins.
Yet that did not include the wealthy merchant magnates from Yunjian Province, nor the bluecoats from the shelters.
Though the latter were a bit clueless, any "civilized person" had to admit they were a group of lucky bastards born in paradise.
Reaching out a wrinkled hand, Sier pulled open a drawer, retrieved a pair of brass-rimmed spectacles, and perched them on his nose.
"Let me see."
Xu Shun glanced at Fang Chang, who tore his eyes away from the intermittent subtitles, untied the bundle in his hands, and handed it to their most dependable NPC.
Xu Shun walked over to the counter and set the bundle down.
"Take a look and see how much you can offer."
Untying the cloth, Sier reached inside to feel the fabric, and a flicker of interest promptly rose in his eyes.
"Devil silk?!"
So the batch of goods that had appeared on the market a few days ago had been sold by these very people?
He had heard about it: the moment those ten bolts of fabric showed up at the trading post, quick-eyed opportunists snapped them right up.
He did not know whose hands the devil cloth had ultimately landed in, but plenty of tailor shops had been asking around, trying to find out where that exquisite fabric had come from.
Before long, though, the excitement in his eyes dimmed.
"Already tailored into clothes? Is that all of it? You don't have uncut bolts?"
"Just these," Xu Shun replied.
"What a shame." A look of regret washed over Sier's face, and he clicked his tongue in dismay. "What a waste of good material."
Xu Shun frowned. "Finished clothes won't do?"
"Even the finest fabric has to be used in the right place," Sier said, shaking his head. "Yes, devil silk is rare and tough. Whether used for opulent clothing, ropes, or protective gear, it's premium material. But..."
With that, Sier reached into the bundle, pulled out a garment, and waved it before Xu Shun with a thoroughly speechless expression.
"Can you explain to me what this is supposed to be?"
It possessed a pristine, silky texture, with meticulously crafted patterns along the hem and cuffs that gave off an indescribable air of nobility.
The problem was, the dress only had a front. The back was merely sewn together symbolically, leaving nothing over the spine except a few ribbons.
The skirt hem was long enough, but what was the point of that?
Xu Shun was taken aback. Before he could speak, the players behind him reading the subtitles were already shouting in indignation.
"Damn it! This bumpkin doesn't know quality!"
"Exactly! Such a gorgeous evening gown!"
"Man, I dream of seeing Yaya wear this just once..."
"Forget it. Even Tail wouldn't touch it."
*An evening gown???*
Xu Shun braced himself and replied, "This is an evening gown..."
"It reveals far too much in the back! It's just a few strings—how is that any different from wearing nothing at all?" Sier scoffed. "The nobles in the inner city won't ever touch revealing clothes like this. Wearing it to a banquet would humiliate them!"
Xu Shun wore a nuanced expression.
To be honest...
He also thought the dress exposed a bit too much.
With only that piece on the front, could it truly cover the upper body completely?
Not that he doubted the taste of the shelter residents, but he felt that if one cut a piece off the skirt and stitched it onto the back, it would be perfect...
"Could be a cultural difference," Fang Chang stroked his chin, pondering with a frown. "I feel like the outer city is fairly open-minded, but maybe people in the inner city are more conservative."
Kuang Feng ventured a guess. "Maybe inner city folks do it to set themselves apart from the outer city?"
"Could be," Fang Chang agreed.
Ye Shi sighed. "Ah, Little Sister Tengteng's maiden voyage hit rough waters."
Lao Bai remarked, "Speaking of which... didn't this dress fail to sell back at the outpost base too?"
He had never seen anyone wear it back at the outpost.
Kuang Feng thought for a moment and nodded. "True. I remember seeing this dress hanging in Tengteng Cottage for quite a while."
In this game, you couldn't create alternate characters or switch genders, and everyone knew each other online, which made people surprisingly modest once they entered the game.
In any other game...
Grown men would have put it on already.
Ye Shi said, "Maybe it was just too cold? Wearing this in the dead of winter really isn't practical."
Kuang Feng retorted, "The shelter has central heating. Do you honestly think that excuse holds water?"
"Uh, fair enough."
Fang Chang sighed. "Great. Our top seed has been knocked out. Discarding the truly unreliable stuff, we have four... er, three cards left in our hand."
It seemed there was a good reason this dress hadn't sold. If even the players' sense of shame couldn't accept it, an NPC rejecting it was entirely understandable.
A real pity.
Hopefully, Little Sister Tengteng wouldn't be too disheartened.
Just as Ye Shi was pondering how to break the bad news to Tengteng, the shopkeeper behind the counter blurted out another question.
"And what on earth is this?"
A glove?
Muttering to himself, Sier pulled a long white stocking from the bundle.
After inspecting it for a moment, having likely never seen a sock so long and straight, he rolled up his sleeve and pulled it directly over his hairy forearm.
Seeing that, the four players in the shop nearly spat blood.
"Holy crap!"
"My eyes!"
"Tell him quick!" Fang Chang grabbed Xu Shun, so agitated he nearly roared. "Tell him that damn thing is a sock!"
Xu Shun blinked, startled, and hurriedly relayed the words.
"A sock?"
Sier froze, muttering as he leaned down to kick off his boot. The four players could bear it no longer, rushing forward to snatch the item from his hands.
"Get lost!"
"If you aren't buying, keep your damn hands off it!"
"Yeah! You're desecrating art!"
"???"
Sier's face was a complete blank. Scratching his head, he wondered what he had even done to provoke such an extreme reaction from these people.
What an uncouth bunch!
Xu Shun stood by in utter embarrassment, feeling so mortified he wished he could burrow into the ground.
To tell the truth, he was utterly baffled too. This time, even with the VM's assistance, he had no idea how to translate the scene.
Lord Administrator above!
Please, find someone else for this job.
He would rather fix bayonets against marauders in the trenches or trade fire with mutants behind cover than work as a translator ever again!
"Let's go. The person we're looking for isn't here."
"Time to end this charade, you foolish NPC."
"Yeah, absolute waste of time!"
Ye Shi tied the bundle back up and tossed it to Fang Chang, who slung it smoothly over his shoulder and turned toward the door.
Seeing the players prepare to leave, Xu Shun breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was finally over, and hurried after them.
"Wait a moment."
Seeing them pack up and prepare to leave, Sier hastily called out to stop them.
The group halted in their tracks.
With five pairs of eyes locking onto him, Sier cleared his throat lightly and spoke up.
"How about this: since you've already checked next door and nobody wants these... er, works of art, why not leave them here on consignment?"
Xu Shun asked, "Consignment?"
"That's right," Sier nodded. "You set the prices yourselves, and I'll hang them on the racks by the door or display them in the front window."
"If they sell, I only take a twenty-percent cut. If they don't, you just take your items back before you leave town."
They were made of devil silk, after all, and they were rare novelties from the bluecoats. Even if the material had been squandered, there was still intrinsic value.
What if they actually sold?
Sier was not an obstinate man.
He had no business right now anyway, and sitting idle was a waste of time. Putting a gimmick in the shop window couldn't hurt.
Besides, if these people forgot about their consignment before leaving, the goods would become his.
Things like that happened from time to time.
A while back, a mercenary who was also an Awakened had left a deathclaw pelt with him on consignment, saying it would hang for a week. Months passed, and the man never returned.
Once he learned from other mercenaries that the fellow had died, Sier happily sold that deathclaw pelt to a big boss in the inner city.
Shoes made of deathclaw hide were the most sought-after in the inner city—not only were they comfortable and durable, but most importantly, they flaunted the wearer's might.
Xu Shun did not think that far ahead; he simply stared at the shopkeeper.
"How do we know we can trust you?"
"My friend, this is Boulder City, not the wild outside! An agreement signed in black and white on paper is binding for everyone as long as you're inside those walls. Besides, my shop sits right here—where could it run to?" Sier declared with absolute confidence. "There are four Awakened among you; are you scared of an ordinary man like me?"
It did sound somewhat reasonable.
Xu Shun looked back at the four players.
After a brief discussion, the four arrived at a consensus.
Treat it like a Hail Mary; trying was better than doing nothing.
Fang Chang stepped forward, pulled out the evening gown with the most skin showing, laid it on the table, and tapped it with his fist.
"Five hundred!"
Ye Shi crowded in too. Rummaging through the bundle, he accurately retrieved the white over-the-knee stocking the shopkeeper had pulled over his arm earlier.
Pairing it with its mate, he tossed the pair onto the table with disgust.
"A hundred! No, fifty!"
Sier: "..."
*How much do you damn well want for it?*
Communicating with these fellows was utterly exhausting.
Impatiently, Sier tore a page from the ledger beside him, ripped it in half, and jotted down the numbers.
"Five hundred for the drafty dress, one hundred for the socks you can wear as pants... Fine. Leave me an address. I need to at least know which inn you're staying at."
Xu Shun stepped up, provided an address, and signed the receipt. Not wanting to waste another second, he quickly ushered the players out of the shop.
"Five hundred for that ragged dress? A hundred for a pair of lousy socks?"
"They've gone mad for money!"
Watching their silhouettes disappear through the doorway, Sier scoffed. Still, he rose from his chair, walked over to the display window, and hung the items up.
After sticking on the price tags, he neatly set up a small blackboard beside them and wrote:
*Unique devil-silk weaving craftsmanship, originating from mysterious shelter technology. The only one of its kind in Boulder City—an unprecedented masterpiece of art.*
Done!
Sier stepped back two paces, read through the words on the board, and nodded with satisfaction.
Communicating with those bluecoats had not been pleasant, but there was no reason to hold a grudge against chips, was there?
As long as he could rake in those colorful little plastic discs, he would gladly do business with gnawers!
***
Outside the shop.
Ye Shi looked over at his teammates. "Is it really dependable to let that guy sell our stuff?"
Fang Chang shrugged. "No choice. Relying on your mouth, it'd take until the year of the monkey to sell anything."
Ye Shi bristled. "Screw you! You have the nerve to talk about me? If you slipped a few less Chinese words into your Human Alliance tongue, would he have looked so completely lost?"
Fang Chang cut him a sidelong glance. "Give me a break. Your daddy here can at least speak a couple of lines. What about you? You can't even count!"
"I have to study for the CET-4, damn it! When do I have time to learn this stuff?"
"Just admit you're trash. Look at Brother Guang; he never makes excuses."
"@#$%!"
Kuang Feng: "..."
Listening to his teammates bicker, Lao Bai looked up at the sky and let out a sigh.
"Man, this game is so damn hard..."
He didn't understand a thing.
It had to be an Intelligence stat issue!
Xu Shun quietly followed behind the four.
Although he had diligently studied the shelter's language, he had only picked up a handful of words and short phrases.
Once these folks started talking fast, their phrasing became too varied. Without the prompter to help, he really couldn't tell what they were saying, and sometimes even the VM had no clue how to translate it.
Still...
The atmosphere between them was rather friendly. Loud as they were, it didn't sound like a real fight.
Listening to Fang Chang and Ye Shi squabble, Kuang Feng suddenly chimed in.
"By the way, isn't five hundred a bit too expensive? The average monthly wage around here is less than a hundred, isn't it?"
A job that included room and board paid two to three chips a day, coming out to barely over ninety a month. A few engineers could earn ten or even a hundred times that, but they were as rare as giant pandas.
"You don't get it. Even if you sold it for fifty, ordinary people couldn't afford it anyway," Fang Chang said leisurely. "In that case, why not just make it expensive? Those who can afford it will buy it regardless, and those who can't won't buy it even if you offer a discount."
The other three exchanged glances.
*Holy crap?*
*That actually makes some sense!*
Still, had this guy picked up that speaking tone from Mosquito?
He was sounding more and more like a crooked merchant by the day...
Chapter 251