Chapter 154: Chapter 158 Rose Doll House
To tell the truth, there actually wasn’t much stuff piled up in the alley. After all, Duncan was just one person, and even though he had bought a bicycle in advance to carry goods, there was a limit to how much he could haul at once. Ai Yi’s reaction was actually quite understandable—
That bird was bargaining; it hoped to score some more fries.
From a certain perspective, the bird was really easy to understand.
“Do you know what this is?” Duncan, holding the pigeon, brought it close to a basket of potatoes. “This is called a potato, also known as a spud.”
Ai Yi blinked its mung bean eyes, carefully inspecting the basket of items for a long time before actually catching on, and suddenly it stretched its neck eagerly, “Delicious! Delicious!”
“Good to know. Work hard, and this whole basket is prepared for you—by the time the fries are fried, there’ll be enough to stuff you to death dozens of times,” Duncan chuckled sneakily, casually tossing the pigeon out, “Send these items back to Homeloss—just place them on the deck, ‘I’ will be there to receive them.”
Ai Yi flapped its wings in the air. Before landing, it was enveloped by a faint green flame. After transforming into an undead bird, it circled around the pile of goods twice. The “cargo” within the flames began to dematerialize swiftly, but suddenly, it paused and landed on top of the goods, cocking its head at Duncan, “Do you need to specify the next memory address?”
Duncan was taken aback for a moment before he realized the bird was asking what it had to do next…
Then he couldn’t help but mutter to himself—in the bird’s vocabulary there were too many bizarre and diverse terms. It was as if every creation from human interactions on the internet was stored in its mind. Although he had managed to guess the bird’s meanings from its phrases while living with it for a while, most of the time his communication with Ai Yi was just barely skirting what he knew… Couldn’t it try to speak a few words of normal human language?
Nonetheless, despite his inner grumbling, Duncan still nodded in response to Ai Yi, “You take care of these first, I still have more to buy…”
This time, Ai Yi was truly startled. It soared up into the sky, and a large ball of flame enveloped and swept away the heap of goods on the ground in the blink of an eye. As it quickly disappeared from Duncan’s view, it kept squawking loudly, “So terrifying! So terrifying!”
Seeing this, Duncan merely shrugged his shoulders and turned to the bicycle he had just bought.
It was a very ordinary bike, with a black frame, shiny silver hubs and handlebars, a brand-new bell, and a sturdy, practical basket and rear seat—not particularly distinctive, neither pretty nor ugly, but its biggest advantage was probably its decent quality.
Duncan had intended to carefully select a pretty female bicycle for Nina, but after looking around the shops in the Lower City District, he gave up on the idea—simply because there weren’t any.
In the Lower City District, a bicycle was just a bicycle, an aid in life but also a tool for production. All the bikes were more or less the same, without specialized styles like male, female, mountain, or road varieties. People of different body sizes could adjust the handlebars and seats for comfortable riding, and beyond that, there were no other functions or definitions for bicycles.
Most ordinary people in this world didn’t seem to have the luxury of pursuing or customizing a “more refined life.”
In the “Deep Sea Era” city-states, a lot of things were ultimately different from the “another world” Duncan was familiar with—even if they looked like similar things, many details were filled with characteristics unique to this world. And it was precisely these misleading things… that kept reminding Duncan of the fact that he was “in a foreign land.”
He got on the bike, and this brand-new mode of transport was light and handy, quickly taking him away from the alley and toward the nearby bustling commercial district.
Nina would like the bike.
Leaving the Cross District, he headed northwest, riding up towards the higher streets, and then he would truly arrive in the Upper City District’s territory—generally speaking, the citizens of Plunder called this “the real boundary line of decent living,” unlike the Cross District, which could only be considered a “place for middle-class citizens to embellish their façades.”
Different from Duncan’s initial expectations, although Plunder had clear administrative boundaries between the “Upper” and “Lower” City Districts, there were no physical barriers between these two districts. Going from the Lower to the Upper City District merely required passing through some completely open crossroads—although there were security officer’s posts at these crossings, it was clear that they didn’t prohibit the citizens from passing through.
Of course, this was the situation during the day. According to what Duncan had found out, the Upper and Lower City Districts did enforce strict restrictions at night— even if one had a nighttime pass, crossing between the two districts’ checkpoints would still require extra procedures.
But now it was daytime, and the crossroads were free of any impediment.
Duncan directly entered the Upper City District—for the first time since he had set foot in this city-state.
He had to admit, the Upper City District truly was a completely different place from the Lower City District.
This was reflected in every aspect—cleaner and broader streets, more imposing and magnificent buildings, newer and more advanced city facilities, and a number of gas streetlights and “Night Shelters” that clearly surpassed those in the Lower City District.
Duncan slowly came to a stop in front of a small pavilion near the intersection.
It was a Night Shelter, intended to assist those citizens who had not returned home in time for various reasons after nightfall. The sign at the entrance of the pavilion provided a simple explanation:
“Providing night-time shelter, equipped with gas lights, Soothing Holy Oil, and the ‘Storm Canon.’ Please lock the door upon entering and wait for rescue, as the night guards hold safety keys.”
In the Lower City District, Duncan had also seen similar facilities, but there were only one or two in an entire district, and they looked mottled and old, he was not sure if they could still be used.
Duncan withdrew his gaze, mounted his bicycle, and continued to ride slowly along the street.
His eyes occasionally swept over the shops lining the road.
The dazzling windows and the elegant and refined displays within them were incomparable to the shops in the Lower City District, but Duncan was not concerned with these insignificant details.
He still had many things to buy, procuring supplies for Homeloss had been a matter too long delayed, and…
Duncan stopped his bike in front of a roadside shop and looked up, a slight smile on his face.
There were some things you couldn’t buy in the Lower City District—only the “respectable people” of the Upper City District would spend a lot of money and effort on certain things unrelated to survival, such as what was before him.
He locked his bicycle and stepped forward to push open the door of the shop. Accompanied by a crisp and pleasant bell sound, a plump old woman who had been reading a newspaper behind the counter looked up. She wore a kind smile and stood up, saying, “Welcome to Rose Doll House… Oh, a gentleman, are you here to choose a companion for your loved one or a younger family member?”
“Just looking around,” Duncan replied briefly, then raised his head, curiously observing the shop known as “Rose Doll House.”
In his line of sight, there were dolls of all kinds—exquisite, elegant, mysterious, cute, playful… dolls.
From outside on the street, he had seen through the window into the shop, but only upon entering did he realize that the space inside was even larger than it appeared from outside, and almost every visible spot was filled with things related to dolls, even under the stairs was stuffed with various styles of storage boxes and stands, as well as accessories large and small and bodies waiting to be assembled.
It was a shop specializing in the sale of dolls and related items, with a classic style and a quiet, mysterious atmosphere.
And in this large doll shop, there was only one very kind-looking old lady tending the store, with Duncan as the sole customer.
The classic shop filled with dolls, the smiling old woman, the single customer.
Duncan was captivated by the dazzling array of dolls, while the shop owner looked curiously at this unfamiliar customer.
Men browsing in a doll shop was not rare; respectable men of the Upper City District often gave exquisite dolls as gifts to their partners or younger relatives, and some men even had the hobby of collecting dolls—what really made the old woman curious as the shop owner was the plainness of the customer’s attire.
Duncan wore an old jacket he was accustomed to, not the attire of the wealthy who lived in the Upper City District—and dolls, as collectibles, were anything but cheap.
However, the old lady just took a curious glance and quickly averted her gaze.
It wasn’t polite to judge customers by their clothes, and a mature businessman shouldn’t judge a customer by appearance—furthermore, everyone had the right to appreciate the goods.
After looking around for a while, Duncan finally looked away and exhaled softly.
He had to admit, he was a bit dazzled by the choice.
The doll craftsmanship of this world was more developed than he had imagined, those myriad parts with names he couldn’t even recall… “accessories,” had exceeded his understanding of dolls.
—His understanding of dolls was limited to the worthless crew members who were cowardly and incompetent, with problematic necks and not even a properly functioning brain.
Duncan looked towards the plump old lady, thinking it best to humbly inquire about the workings of dolls from a professional—especially regarding joint care and hair planting.
But before he could speak, he suddenly froze.
He stared absent-mindedly at the old woman in front of him, who quickly caught on and smiled, pointing to her ears: “Elves from the Plunder City-State are indeed rare.”
Duncan: “…”
He had to admit, elves from the Plunder City-State were perhaps truly rare, and this was his first time seeing one in his life.
But what astonished him even more was the thought that in this world, there could be a plump elf grandmother…