Chapter 131: The Call

Come to think of it, didn’t his friend Zhuang owe him some shares verbally?
This matter had fizzled out before it even began, with only one clause lingering: “From now on, you’re one of the bosses. I’ll notify you of any breaking news, but you have to work for the inn with all your might for free, and if trouble comes, you need to play bodyguard.”
Over the past few days, if not for Boss Zhuang equating the “big client” with the “first-class party,” it might have taken Yang Zicang half a year or a full year to get a message from this innkeeper of the Dufrequency Inn.
“Boss Zhuang, you should know those thousand years aren’t easy to beat, right? I could barely even get in myself,” Yang Zicang said.
“Barely? Wait a minute—what’s with this ‘Boss Zhuang’? So formal.”
In the mental link, the short-haired boss stood on a stool by the window, looking out with an expression mixing shock and disappointment.
“Little man, when you make an excuse, can’t you think it through? So many people are buying your incense pills and heading into the mountains, and you’re telling me you can’t get in?”
“Ah, alright, alright, we’re all on the same team here. I was just venting a bit, brother. From now on, we’ll handle this kind of business ourselves. With me around, I’ll make sure you earn even more.”
“Mm, okay.” YangZicang grudgingly pinched his nose and responded.
“Hehe, I’ve already spread the word about you. It shouldn’t take a few days before more people show up at your place. Consider this my little gift to you.”
“That’s so generous of you, old brother. But don’t send me any masters I can’t fool, alright?”
“I knew you wouldn’t be that naive. Haha, rest assured—this’ll definitely let you earn several more mille-cron.”
Saying this, Boss Zhuang lowered his voice and rubbed his fingers together, adding:
“Of course, if you feel like sharing a cut with me, brother, I wouldn’t mind. The guys below will remember your favor too, and it’s a contribution to the inn.”
YangZicang gazed at the faint, playful little glowing clots spiraling left and right across the sky.
“We’ll talk about it later.”
……
Meanwhile, in a distant, ancient-village-like place.
Zorro descended from the dilapidated watchtower, with a plain middle-aged man dressed in homemade linen walking beside him.
“You guys are quite lucky to be able to stabilize this village. Must’ve spent quite a few apathy-schema for that, didn’t you?”
“It’s all savings from folks over the years—just wanting to find a remote spot far from people to live a peaceful life. Thankfully, our hopes weren’t disappointed, and we finally got it.”
“That’s nice.” Zorro looked at the sturdy otherworldly architecture beneath his feet. “This watchtower was probably used to keep an eye out for monsters in that other world.”
The middle-aged man said, “Likely so, but now, all the other terrain has collapsed, and the monsters have long since stopped appearing. From now on, the watchtower will only serve as a place to climb for a distant view.”
A woman in coarse linen clothes stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase, holding a small basket of fruits and vegetables, waiting for them.
“But the magic runes in that room—we really wanted to preserve them. Unfortunately, every time we try to record them, something goes wrong.”
“That stuff’s beyond our control. We’ll just have to let fate decide.”
“Xiao Luo, you know so many experts. No one among them knows anything about otherworldly magic runes?”
“There was once someone, but he left at the end of last year. According to him, it’s fine to just look at magic runes, but the more powerful they are, the harder they are to copy. Trying to record them would damage one’s spirit.”
“What a pity.”
The two stepped down to the ground. Zorro accepted the woman’s kind gesture and took the small basket of fruit, a precious offering in the Land of Frequency Loss.
They looked toward the village’s several children playing nearby.
“They will never know what Earth was like.”
The middle-aged man’s gaze was full of benevolence as he watched the children, a tinge of regret in his tone.
“Stories of skyscrapers, televisions and telephones, airplanes and ships—they’ll only be passing legends later on.”
A weak flash of regret crossed the woman’s expression as she added, “In two more generations, none will still hold onto a longing to return to our old world. But they will always remember you.”
She looked at the man beside her wearing a face mask with eyeholes.
“Thank you for bringing us the seeds and the formula, and also that well engine—it was something we urgently needed.”
A well will be used by many generations. Someday, their children will look up at the dim sky at night and tell their children’s children the old story: That old well in the village was brought in my grandfather’s time, one day, by a traveler from afar…
Zorro took a bite of a small tomato and chewed as he said:
“As the field assistant of breeding expert Teacher Nong Yami and reclamation master Yang Zicang,
“I delivered their research results, on the loss-frequency lands, to those who need them. It’s just a way to casually fulfill some of their ideals during my journey.”
“Nong Yami… Yang Zicang…”
The few people nearby murmured these unfamiliar names. Some young ones secretly remembered them both, planning to carve them onto the wellhead.
Zorro smiled, mounted his nightmare motorcycle: “Farewell. I still have to go to more remote places.”
Under the gazes of the villagers, the motorcycle disappeared across the field, tracing a faint red light in the somber dusk.
……
After Boppoli, who had stayed up all night, fell asleep, Moli donned a black top hat and went out.
Though it was late June, there was still a hint of chill in the morning here.
“Good morning, Moli. Have you eaten yet?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Lee.”
The lady smiled as she walked by with food in her hands.
The streetlights on the cobblestone street had not yet gone out. Mori glanced at the address on the business card in his hand, then turned and headed toward that street.
“15 Emerald B Road.”
There were many young men and women on the street. After Mori turned the corner, the two people across the street behind him stopped and turned to look.
“Hey, Brother Xin, isn’t that foreigner the one from our team?”
“You mean Alexander? Hasn’t he had all his chronos deducted yet?”
The red-haired young man looked up at the retro stone-and-timber buildings lining both sides of the street.
“Hmph, interesting. Staying here of all places—the rent must be at least two hundred chronos a month. Where would that guy find that many chronos to waste?”
“It should be a shared rental with several people,” the woman said. “Let’s go. We should buy the supplies the captain needs first.”
The red-haired young man cast an envious glance at the towering houses here.
The inside must be more spacious than the cramped room his own team rented—though that place was just a stopover when they occasionally visited Hubtown, who wouldn’t want to live somewhere better?
And Emerald B Road was just that kind of place: quiet, spacious, and comfortable. The shops here, too, had an upscale and intimidating air.
Mori pushed open the deep-colored solid wooden door inlaid with glass that let in streams of light.
“Welcome, Mr. Alexander Mori.”
“I have an appointment.”
The man in the vest behind the counter nodded in acknowledgment. He walked to the side and poured a cup of light fragrant milk tea from an exquisite kettle.
“Ms. Maiya is already inside.”
“Thank you.” Morley took the teacup and took a sip. Instantly, he felt as if he was standing on a vast prairie in a gentle breeze. He looked at the cup slightly startled.
“Different flavors bring different experiences. Hope you have a nice day.”
The man smiled and pointed to the passageway beside him. “Ms. Maiya has entered the town through legitimate means. Don’t do anything to embarrass her.”
“I understand.”
Morley entered the back area. Several rooms there had their doors closed shut, except for one adorned with a screen of emerald-green beaded curtains swinging open.
“I’m in here.” The warm, effusive greeting of a middle-aged woman came from within.
Morley pushed the beaded curtain and entered. He glanced at the decor—contrary to the imagined candles, mystical runes, and crystal balls, the room was filled with mechanical clocks, aircraft models, mechanical structures, and artistic statues.
“So you’re the foreigner who made the appointment.”
“Mr. Wang referred me.”
The rather plump woman wore bright red lipstick and a pair of bold black-rimmed glasses.
She sat down behind the desk. “In that case, he should have told you, the consequences of this phone call.”
“I know, but I believe my luck should be good, and the results won’t be too bad.”
May Ya nodded. “Nine out of ten of my clients are very optimistic. But in the end, only half can laugh their way through. A reminder: if you forcibly try to change the future, you might die inexplicably.”
She pointed to the chair across from the desk.
“The cost to place the call is 5,999 years. If you’ve thought it through, then sit down. One more reminder: the conversation with the future lasts only one minute, and its content will anchor your future with high probability. So after you dial, no matter whether you’re satisfied or not, don’t even think about changing things.”
Mori thought it over seriously. As soon as he recalled that figure, he couldn’t find peace of mind.
“Yang Zicang will definitely lead me to a farther future.”
Murmuring to himself, Mori sat down with his clothes still on.
“I just want to know if the future me has found Julia. This information shouldn’t cause any serious consequences.”
Mori took a deep breath. “She should be in some city somewhere.”
May Ya smiled and said, “Either way, my advice is not to go beyond three years. After all, even that will consume 3,000 years of my chronology. For each extra day, the timing consumption multiplies—no one can afford it.”
Thinking back to the moment when he came over—his lover, his fiancée, seemed to have entered this world as well—Morrie had always carried this knot in his heart.
But back then, he could barely protect himself. The mere thought of that graceful figure filled him with despair and helplessness. Only now does he have the confidence to search for his fiancée.
Ms. Maiya, with a smile on her red lips, picked up the receiver of an old rotary dial phone. Inside the dial, a red eye of artistic flair had a gem-like pupil that slowly turned toward the man.
“Time Sequence 5999, thank you.”
Morry handed her a slightly shimmering bill and then took the receiver.
[I am authorized to use another of my kind.]
[I am beginning to dial my future time sequence code.]
“Enter your date of birth, then the year, month, and day of the future time you wish to contact, ending with the pound key.”
{I will automatically calculate the time difference. Please, begin.}
A faint telepathic voice emerged from the phone with its round rotary dial.
Though it looked like an old pulse-dial phone, the dial still had asterisk and pound keys, and the pound key was clearly a flickering quadrilateral.
Both the rim of the dial and this key emitted a hazy red light.
It was a quadrilateral nightmare.