“You… you’re robbing me!”
Levi stepped closer and saw a middle-aged man in square black-frame glasses and a softening waistline yelling at Lyon in Mandarin.
“Mr.
Wang Qiang, please calm down,” Lyon said slowly, trimming his nails like he had all the time in the world.
“This model of headphones has been out for ages.
It has zero resale value.”
“But it’s a limited collector’s edition!” Wang Qiang’s face was red, but he had nowhere to go.
“I… I’m not selling anymore.”
“Suit yourself,” Lyon said with a lazy wave.
“Door’s right there.”
Wang Qiang stuffed the headphones back into his jacket and turned to leave.
He spotted Levi, gave him a quick nod, and muttered in , “Fellow ?
Don’t sell anything to this guy.
He’s a straight-up crook.”
Levi stepped aside to let him pass and offered a polite smile but said nothing.
Once Wang Qiang was gone, Levi walked up to the counter and laid out his four gold coins in a neat row.
“I’ve got four more of these,” he said, activating Clumsy Eloquence.
“Same pure gold.
Think the price can go up this time?”
His Spirit was noticeably higher than last visit, and the skill had leveled twice.
Levi had a feeling he was about to do better than before.
Lyon stared at the coins without speaking.
Just when Levi started wondering if the skill had failed, the familiar ding sounded in his head.
Lyon finally spoke.
“You’re right.
These have real collector value.
I should be offering more.”
“Last time you gave me five hundred each,” Levi said with a small smile.
“What’s your best offer now?”
…
Levi walked out of the shop feeling very pleased with himself.
He spotted Wang Qiang squatting on the curb smoking, looking miserable.
“I told you that French old bastard loves screwing us .
Why’d you still go in there?”
“It went all right,” Levi said, not mentioning he’d just turned sixteen hundred dollars’ worth of gold into three thousand.
“I only come by once in a while.”
“Kids these days…” Wang Qiang pushed his glasses up and gave Levi’s plain clothes a once-over.
“You’re new around here, right?
Here to study?”
Levi nodded but kept it short.
Fellow meet fellow and the knife comes out from behind.
He wasn’t about to hand over personal details yet.
“My son’s about your age,” Wang Qiang continued.
“Goes to Franklin too, though he just got here and his English is still rough.
He’s stuck in language classes.
Lucky my wife’s English is decent.
If you’re in the area, maybe you two can look out for each other.
His name’s Hao Ran.”
“I live over in Sunset Park,” Levi said vaguely.
“Staying with family.”
Wang Qiang paused, then looked Levi over again through his thick lenses.
The anger at Lyon faded, replaced by a visible wave of pity mixed with superiority.
His back straightened.
“Sunset Park?
That place is filthy,” he clicked his tongue.
“Not like our apartment in Flushing.
Three thousand a month, sure, but it’s got windows and real sunlight.
You won’t get sick living there.”
“America’s still the best though,” he added, completely forgetting he’d just been trying to sell secondhand headphones.
“All kinds of people, everyone equal, full of opportunity.
And the money comes fast.
Back home I was doing construction and killing myself for eight thousand RMB a month.
Here I work for a boss and clear over a hundred dollars a day.
That’s like fifteen hundred RMB back home.”
“Really,” Levi said, taking a polite step back and creating distance.
I should get going.”
Wang Qiang’s smile froze for a second, then he quickly saved face and waved it off.
“Starting from the bottom is normal for young people.
You kids just haven’t suffered enough yet.
Take care of yourself.
I’ve got work too.”
He climbed into a beat-up Ford Raptor that looked about as reliable as Don Quixote’s Toyota and drove off, clearly feeling better after the conversation.
Levi watched him go and shrugged.
Wang Qiang didn’t seem like a bad guy.
He just needed someone to feel a little superior to for a few minutes.
…
Three in the morning and Brooklyn was still full of sirens and distant gunshots.
Levi sat in his curtained section counting cash and running numbers in a notebook.
With his Spirit upgraded he needed less sleep now.
Even going to bed at three, he still woke up at eight feeling sharp.
The boutique job was his only steady income.
After expenses, plus the thirty-five hundred he’d made from the five gold coins so far, he had a little over four thousand in cash on him.
Add the six thousand on his card and his total assets had finally broken ten thousand dollars.
It still wasn’t enough to get out of the basement.
Safer Brooklyn neighborhoods like Bay Ridge or Bensonhurst wanted thirty-two hundred plus for a decent two-bedroom, two-bath.
Throw in broker fees, first month, last month, security deposit, and everything else, and even splitting costs with Don Quixote would be tight.
And Don Quixote’s credit was garbage.
Most landlords would laugh him out the door.
To skip the credit check he’d have to pay heavy upfront—three months plus deposit plus fees.
He needed at least twenty grand before he could even think about moving.
He was still debating whether washing clothes at the gym could save the three dollars a day he was spending at the laundromat when Don Quixote’s snoring suddenly stopped.
Showtime for the one-balled knight.
Levi stepped out from behind the curtain.
Sure enough, Don Quixote was already in full armor, eyes closed.
The moment he sensed Levi he shouted, “Squire Levi!
To arms!
We ride to slay the witch!”