Chapter Twenty: The New Landlord

Zhang He’s luck in the game wasn’t bad, but as the saying goes, joy often brings sorrow—the harsh reality always finds a way to intrude.

“What did you say? You’re not renting the house anymore?” Zhang He stared wide-eyed at Old Bao.

Old Bao wore an expression of helpless pain. “Ah, Zhang, there’s nothing I can do. My youngest son is back and has nowhere else to stay. Sorry about this. I won’t charge you rent for this month; I’ll refund half of last month’s rent and return your deposit in full.”

Having heard Old Bao’s words, Zhang He had no choice but to accept this cruel outcome. So, he spent the entire day at his desk, listless and dispirited, not even daydreaming as he usually did.

Ordinarily, when Zhang He gazed vacantly at his desktop, it could be seen as deep thought. But today, his mood was clearly heavy, his mind elsewhere.

This did not escape Jiang Yao’s notice. She knocked on the table. “Zhang He.”

Zhang He lifted his head sluggishly. “Yao, sis.”

“Where’s the order I gave you last time?”

Zhang He hesitated. “Well…”

Jiang Yao sighed. “You didn’t do it, did you? Slacking off again?”

Zhang He continued to stare blankly at his desk.

Jiang Yao, curious, asked, “What’s wrong? Something happened?”

Zhang He was full of worries. Old Bao had asked him to move out within five days, which wasn’t too difficult. The real problem was that Old Bao’s rent was cheap and, being in the city center, quite convenient. Moving out meant it would be impossible to find another affordable place. Everyone knew how much agents charged these days. The tough, frugal life Zhang He had endured in “Dynasty” had taught him to be thrifty in reality as well.

Jiang Yao mused, “I actually know of a place. It’s cheap, but a bit far—out by the Fifth Western Ring. The environment isn’t great, though.”

“Oh?” Zhang He’s interest was piqued. “Tell me more, Yao sis.”

Jiang Yao smiled and handed him a slip of paper. “Call the number on this. Take the day off and go look for a place. I’ll explain to Mr. Li.”

Zhang He was overjoyed. “Thank you so much, Yao sis.”

“Go on, don’t waste time!”

The address Jiang Yao provided was so remote it nearly brought Zhang He to tears. Though the subway ride was only half an hour, after getting off he wandered through winding streets for another half hour before finally finding it.

It was an old residential area reminiscent of the seventies and eighties—clusters of small single-story houses, left behind for historical reasons and not yet demolished. The alleys were paved with stone slabs, flanked by open drains. The stench wasn’t overwhelming, but it was enough to make your eyes water.

He entered a relatively dry courtyard, where a pretty young woman with a ponytail approached. “Are you Zhang He?”

“I am,” Zhang He replied.

She said, “My surname is Ma, Ma Junmei. I collect rent on behalf of the landlord.”

Zhang He asked, “Where’s the landlord?”

Ma Junmei explained, “The landlord’s always busy and can’t come here in person, so I handle all the payments, including utilities.”

“Oh!” Zhang He didn’t doubt her. She was dressed stylishly, trying to look mature and sexy, but she seemed barely twenty. This must be a family property, passed down from her parents.

The building had four floors, three units per floor. Each was a spacious, independent studio—bedroom plus balcony and bathroom. The courtyard had a communal outdoor laundry area, clearly showing its age.

“How’s the rental arrangement?” Zhang He asked.

Ma Junmei rattled off smoothly, “Each room is two hundred fifty a month, not including utilities. Rent is paid quarterly, with a one-thousand deposit.”

Zhang He’s eyes widened. A deposit of a thousand for this rundown place? Was she serious?

Ma Junmei seemed to sense his doubts. “No more words, just take a look at the rooms. You can pick any floor, any unit.”

“Oh? Any unit?” Zhang He felt skeptical.

Ma Junmei replied coldly, “No one lives here yet. You’ll be the first tenant. If you help me keep an eye on the building, I can knock the rent down to two hundred a month, but you have to pay for half a year up front.”

Zhang He did the math: two thousand deposit returned by Old Bao, plus half a month’s rent—two hundred fifty—and a few hundred left of his own money, totaling two thousand four hundred sixty-nine. Ma Junmei’s terms were acceptable.

If he lived here, he’d need to find a way to earn money in “Dynasty.” After last night’s ambush on Skyscraper Road, Zhang He knew he had to stick to his path in “Dynasty”—and that meant finding ways to make money.

Ma Junmei grinned. “You’ve got good taste—Room 1 on the third floor used to be the landlord’s.”

She opened the door, and Zhang He immediately understood the reason for the one-thousand deposit. The room had a bed, an old wardrobe, a little tea table, a writing desk, a bathroom with a water heater, and, most surprisingly, an old bookshelf and a vintage computer.

Looking closely, Zhang He felt dizzy: the bookshelf actually contained books—old editions of “Quotations from Chairman Mao,” “Selected Works of Mao,” “Deng’s Theory,” “Lenin’s Works,” “Philosophy of Marxism,” “Constitution of the People’s Republic of China,” and more.

Excellent!

Wonderful books!

Great classics, all of them. He’d never be short of reading material again; the era of book scarcity was over.

He glanced at the yellowed computer—a Pentium-brand machine. The specs: 56MB of RAM, 14-inch monitor, integrated graphics, 286 CPU, a dual-wheel mouse, and a keyboard missing the W, A, S, D keys. Most impressive was the operating system: the legendary, antique DOS.

“Does this computer work?” Zhang He asked, intrigued.

Ma Junmei replied, “Why wouldn’t it? It cost nearly twenty thousand when it was bought.”

Zhang He pondered how long ago that “when” was. Nowadays, you’d be lucky to sell it for two hundred, and most people wouldn’t even take it.

“So, what do you think? Isn’t the room nice?” Ma Junmei asked, smiling.

“It’s not bad, just a bit old-fashioned,” Zhang He answered, sitting on the bed.

With a loud crash, the wooden boards gave way, and the bed collapsed. Zhang He landed on a pile of broken wood.

“Sorry, I’ll get you a new bed today,” Ma Junmei said, embarrassed. “Do you still want the room?”

“Yes!” Zhang He responded firmly. Having a place to stay was already a stroke of luck; being picky was unnecessary.

“When do you want to move in?” Ma Junmei asked.

“Right now,” Zhang He declared.

Ma Junmei seemed equally straightforward. She produced the contract without further ado.

After signing, Zhang He returned to his old place and, under Ma Junmei’s astonished gaze, packed his belongings in the simplest fashion possible—a few quilts, some worn clothes, and a gaming helmet.

“You play ‘Dynasty’ too?” Ma Junmei asked, curious. “How many times have you ascended?”

“Never,” Zhang He replied calmly.

“So you’re a free cultivator?”

“I haven’t cultivated either,” Zhang He said.

Ma Junmei’s eyes widened. “A novice?”

Zhang He nodded helplessly.

“Which province? I can help you,” Ma Junmei offered.

Zhang He thought for a moment. “Yizhou.”

Ma Junmei’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “I’m in Chuan province, Sword Sect of Mount Shu.”

Zhang He’s expression shifted. This girl must be an expert—she belonged to the renowned Sword Sect of Mount Shu. Their recruitment was strict, only taking experts in internal arts and swordsmanship. The sect was famous, though their basic martial arts were ordinary. Yet, their advanced techniques and secret skills were incredibly powerful: Twin Swords of Purple and Blue, Flying Sword, Sword Control, Qingming Sword—master any of these, and few would dare provoke you in the martial world.

Ma Junmei smiled. “My name in the game is Thousand Leaf Butterfly. If you come to Chuan, you can send a carrier pigeon message to me.”