The Law of Misfortune Conservation

If luck had a ledger, then Shen Du would surely be blacklisted by the heavens. At twenty-five, he had been laid off three times, his savings dwindling from four digits to three. His greatest achievement was winning the company's "Annual Best Scapegoat" award for three consecutive years—a prize with no bonus, only a "next time for sure." On the day he was fired, he slipped on a puddle, crashed into a trash can, and picked up a broken pocket watch. From then on, his world gained a "Misfortune Conservation System": the more unlucky he was in reality, the luckier he became in an alternate dimension. In Chang'an of the twelfth year of Zhenguan, he casually picked up official silver; at a grand Tang banquet, he swiped a consecrated celadon cup. His luck in the alternate dimension was absurdly good, but the cost was his sleep, health, and even the safety of his loved ones in reality. "Every time I get lucky over there, someone here suffers for me." "What if I bear it myself?" He realized the real debt wasn't three sleepless nights, but the door that was taking shape—a door with someone waiting inside for him. Every stroke of luck was an advance payment; every trip through time accumulated a door leading to the "inside." Misfortune was debt, good fortune was a loan. Eventually, it had to be repaid. He laughed and cursed, "Fine, you win this round," then began to calculate—what would he need to bring back next time to trade for the person inside that door?