Ji Yu walked slowly through the streets of the capital. The city was alive in a way that felt almost overwhelming. The noise was everywhere—voices of sellers calling out prices, children laughing and crying, wheels of carts clattering against the stone roads, the occasional shout of someone haggling too fiercely.
Her eyes moved from one thing to another. She noticed colorful banners hanging from wooden poles, stalls selling strange foods she had never seen before, and carriages pulled by tired-looking horses. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, dust, sweat, and the faint sourness of garbage left too long in the heat. But none of it touched her expression. Her face was calm, almost blank, as if nothing here had the power to make her feel surprised or unsettled. She looked, she noticed, but she didn't react.
When she passed by a group of children chasing each other with sticks, one of them bumped into her arm. The boy muttered a quick "sorry" before running off again. Ji Yu didn't even pause. She simply adjusted the strap of her small bag and kept walking, her steps steady and even.
After a while, she reached a part of the street lined with clothes stalls. Bright fabrics fluttered in the air, catching the sunlight. Reds, blues, yellows, and greens—all kinds of shades hung there, turning in the soft wind. Some stalls had simple cotton dresses; others displayed shiny silk robes. A few merchants had mannequins propped up, wearing their most expensive pieces to draw in customers.
Ji Yu stopped for a moment. Her eyes lingered on a plain, pale-blue dress. She thought it would probably fit her and look decent enough. She lowered her gaze and slipped her hand into her pocket, feeling the cool metal of the coins inside. Just a few. She didn't even need to count. She knew it wasn't enough.
Quietly, she took her hand out and walked on. There was no sigh, no slump of the shoulders, no trace of disappointment. It was simply fact: she did not have money for new clothes, so she would not buy them. Simple as that.
The streets twisted and turned, some narrow and cramped, others wide and busy. Ji Yu didn't know the capital well at all. After circling around for a long time, she realized she needed help. Spotting a middle-aged woman carrying a basket of vegetables, Ji Yu stepped closer.
"Excuse me," she asked politely. "Do you know if there's a cheap hotel nearby? Somewhere clean, not too costly."
The woman looked her over, eyes narrowing slightly as if to guess her background, then gave directions with a wave of her hand. Ji Yu listened carefully, memorizing the turns, then gave a soft "thank you" and walked away.
The hotel appeared after some more walking. It wasn't large or fancy, just a plain building with a wooden sign above the door. The paint was chipped, but the steps were swept, and the windows didn't look too grimy. It was enough.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of soap mixed with old wood. A man stood behind the counter, flipping through a small notebook. Ji Yu walked up and asked, "How much for one room?"
"Ten cents a day," the man replied without looking up.
She nodded once. Without haggling, without hesitation, she took out ten cents and placed it on the counter. He finally looked up, counted the coins, and handed her a small iron key.
"Room on the second floor. Third door to the left," he said lazily.
Ji Yu accepted the key and climbed the stairs. The wooden steps creaked beneath her, but they felt sturdy enough. She opened the door to her room and stepped inside.
It was small—barely large enough for the bed, a short wooden table, and a single chair. A window let in pale light from the street, showing the faint dust floating in the air. She placed her small bag on the table, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled out the rest of her coins.
She counted carefully. If Li Mingxuan didn't come looking for her, then at most she could stay here five to seven days, depending on how much she ate. One meal a day would stretch things out. Two meals would shorten her time.
She put the coins back into her pocket, her face still calm. There was no panic, no anger. Just calculation. For now, she had shelter. That was enough.
Leaning back slightly, she let out a slow breath. Not from frustration or relief, but simply because her body asked for it. Her mind, however, was already running ahead. She needed a plan. She needed income.
Her gaze lowered to the coins resting in her palm. Not nearly enough. Not even close.
"System," she said quietly inside her head, her mental tone as flat as her face. "I need to make money. What are the possible options in this kind of world?"
The familiar voice of the system answered immediately, crisp and even, as if reading out a file. "Host. You possess Alpha-level designation, confirmed SSS-tier mental strength. Your current body is weaker, but your core consciousness is fully intact. Your past credentials include: lead researcher on the Quantum Entanglement Drive, youngest Marshal in Federation history, fluent in thirteen languages, expert in plasma blade combat and classical debate, and founder of a corporate empire before your twenty-fifth year. The chance of you failing at any goal is close to zero. The technology here is primitive. Literature, philosophy, and trade are in their early stages. Building a dominant business empire here is a simple task. Prediction: full market control within three years, maximum."
Ji Yu's eyes flicked to the coins again. What the system said was true. To her, wealth here would be as easy as solving a child's math problem. But her lips pressed together in silence.
"…It's not that simple," she finally replied.
The system's voice paused, then came again, sounding slightly curious this time. "Why?."
"My current role in this world is different," Ji Yu said slowly. "On paper, I'm just a rural woman. Little education. No connections. No reason to stand out. If I suddenly start showing talents that make no sense for someone like me, people will notice. The story will notice. And that might not be safe."
.
.
.
To be continued.