After noon, he spent part of his meager earnings from the previous day on food at the port diner, and along the way bought a bamboo flask, constantly drinking plain water, which earned him a heap of mockery from the other porters. Even more laughter came when he asked the diner owner to boil the murky liquid considered clean water here. Shrugging, the owner filled the flask from the kettle for free.
Faced with this situation, the new Zhang Ming bought the cheapest simple iron pot on the way home from the market and decided to teach the children to boil water before drinking it. In the slums, no one had heard of hygiene; they didn't wash their hands, didn't bathe themselves, and drank water without asking where it came from. If it didn't smell of rot, it was fine. For him, as a modern person, this went beyond any aversion. He thoroughly rinsed the surviving wine jugs and used them for storing clean boiled water.
He could put up with a lot, but he refused to drink muddy raw water and didn't want the children to drink it. Better if no one drank at all, then there'd be fewer infections, but he could only influence the children. Unfortunately, teaching hygiene was put on hold since the two sisters tried not to get in his sight. Judging by the slowly disappearing rice, they were still coming home. From the chatty neighbor Hong Shu, he casually learned that the girls were perfectly fine.
No. I don't want to raise someone else's kids. I need to find them a good home. That's doable for me, he pondered. I'll pawn off the snot-nosed kids and surviving will become much easier.
The previous plan with the orphanage fell through before it started, no one he knew had heard of anything like that. They didn't even grasp the idea of a shelter where orphans were fed for free. No one would think to spend money just like that without getting any benefit. Older and stronger children were taken in by clans and raised as warriors or servants, while the little beggars in the slums were plentiful; there'd be no money enough for all of them.
Zhang Ming didn't want to shoulder the responsibility for someone else's offspring, let alone become their father or guardian. After long deliberations, he decided to view their relationship like that between landlords and a tenant: they provided him with a roof over his head, and he bought them food, no more, no less.
I have nowhere to go. I don't know anything about this world. Driving the girls out onto the street or, worse, selling them to a brothel like their father thought, my conscience won't allow it. I'd never become such a prime piece of shit, he thought. The girls are small, but they're independent. We'll be roommates, and everyone wins.
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The rice sack, his first purchase in this world, quickly emptied, and the two sisters were afraid to show their faces to him. They were expecting severe punishment for taking food without asking and postponed the unfortunate moment as much as they could. At the sound of their father's footsteps, they trembled with fear and quickly ran away, but still didn't regret anything. It wasn't the first time for them to take others' things. The two little girls knew from experience that it was better to endure beatings than that all-consuming horrifying hunger.
In the morning before work, Zhang Ming dropped into a shop, bought more rice and several dried fruits. Unfortunately, the quality left much to be desired. The fruits had long lost any scent, but he couldn't afford to be picky. Leaving the purchases at home, he headed to the dock. The children took care of themselves, which greatly eased his life.
The next couple of days passed unnoticed for him, like identical twins. Nothing remarkable happened. He gradually learned and at the same time recalled the world he had ended up in. With each passing day, his body and mind improved, and the terrible hangover finally retreated. Thanks to decent nutrition, he gained strength, and handling work became easier. Unfortunately, the thirst for alcohol hadn't gone away, and his hands still trembled if he just held them out in front of him.
"How much do I owe you?" Zhang Ming asked the dock overseer before starting work.
"Um...," the official's greedy eyes darted around. "Five. You owe me five silver."
"I'll remember, sir," he said, bowing slightly. "I'm sure I won't forget again."
"Go work!" the overseer barked irritably.
Zhang Ming's mind was slowly returning to working order, and he decided to bring a little order to his life, to find out the exact size of his debts. He was afraid to quarrel with his boss, but he couldn't let himself be fleeced further. The overseer had obviously exaggerated the amount, but now it had clear boundaries and it became possible to pay it off.
It's risky to push rights here. Could end up headless, he smirked to himself. Good thing they haven't come up with infinite interest rates yet.
"Today you deducted ten coins. So now I owe four silver and ninety copper. Right?" After work, Zhang Ming approached his boss and loudly, so that the other porters could hear, announced the debt amount.
"You've learned to count?"
"One trader taught me, sir."
"They always stick their noses where they don't belong," the displeased overseer scowled. "Yes, yes. Correct. Get out of here."
The river port attracted many bandits on the lookout for prey. Returning home after work, Zhang Ming often stumbled upon fights and robberies, where not only bandits attacked passersby, but vice versa too. He, of course, quickly took to his heels, though he saw how the local beggars and panhandlers gathered around, hoping for easy pickings if all the fighters died.
The local bandits weren't interested in the slum bum, besides known as a drunk and a thief. No one hoped to find money on him, so Zhang Ming walked the streets calmly without fearing attack. His old sagging clothes, stooped figure, and utterly worn-out shoes served as reliable protection.
Ha-ha-ha, make way, the local tycoon is coming! he laughed at himself.
