Wei Chen stood at the edge of the market, watching people move.
Not randomly. Purposefully. He was looking for patterns. Opportunities. Ways to be useful.
It was early morning, three days after watching Instructor Feng train Zhou Ming. Three days of thinking about one gold and eighty silver. Three days of realizing that wishing for money wouldn't create it.
He needed to work.
The problem was figuring out what a five-year-old could do that people would actually pay for.
"You look lost."
Wei Chen turned. Lian Xiu stood beside him, carrying a basket of vegetables. Her mother's work, probably—helping sell at the market stall.
"I'm thinking," Wei Chen said.
"About what?"
"How to earn money."
Lian Xiu raised an eyebrow. "Why? Your family's not starving."
"Not starving isn't the same as having enough." Wei Chen watched a merchant struggle with a heavy crate. "There's something I need. It costs money I don't have."
"So you want to work."
"Yes."
Lian Xiu studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "All right. Follow me."
She led him through the market's back alleys, away from the main thoroughfare where respectable merchants operated. Here, the buildings were older, the people rougher. This was where day laborers gathered, where work was paid in copper and promises.
"This is where my mother finds extra jobs," Lian Xiu explained. "Loading carts. Carrying messages. Anything that needs doing but doesn't require skill."
She stopped at a wooden board nailed to a wall. Scraps of parchment were pinned to it—job postings, Wei Chen realized. Most were simple: Need help moving furniture. 3 copper. Delivery to North district. 2 copper.
"Can you read?" Lian Xiu asked.
"Some."
"Good enough. Pick the easy ones. Nobody's going to hire you for heavy lifting—you're five and tiny. But messages? Deliveries? Those you can do."
Wei Chen scanned the board. Most jobs required adults. But a few...
Lost cat. Black with white paws. 5 copper reward.
Need runner for quick delivery. Temple to Merchant Street. 1 copper.
Help sorting inventory at grain warehouse. Half day. 2 copper.
Small jobs. But copper was copper.
Wei Chen took the delivery job first.
The posting directed him to a small shop near the temple—a leather worker who needed a package taken to a customer on Merchant Street. Wei Chen arrived, stated his business, and received a wrapped bundle small enough to carry.
"Careful with it," the leather worker warned. "Custom belt. Customer already paid. Don't lose it."
"I won't."
"Good. Deliver it to Han's Textiles. Ask for Master Han. He'll confirm receipt, then you get paid."
Wei Chen nodded and left.
The delivery was straightforward. Merchant Street was a ten-minute walk. Han's Textiles was easy to find—one of the larger shops, with fine silks displayed in the windows.
Wei Chen entered. A clerk looked up, saw a child, and frowned.
"We don't give charity."
"I'm not asking for charity. I have a delivery for Master Han."
The clerk's expression shifted slightly. "Let me see it."
Wei Chen handed over the package. The clerk inspected the wrapping, verified the seal, then disappeared into the back room.
A minute later, an older man emerged—Master Han himself, presumably. He opened the package, examined the belt, and nodded in satisfaction.
"Tell Yuan the quality is acceptable. Payment will be sent this afternoon."
"Understood."
Master Han tossed Wei Chen a single copper coin. "For your trouble."
Wei Chen caught it, bowed slightly, and left.
One copper. Earned in maybe thirty minutes total.
It felt heavier than it should.
Over the next two weeks, Wei Chen worked every day he didn't have temple lessons.
He delivered messages. Helped sort grain at the warehouse. Found the lost cat (it was hiding under a porch two streets over). Carried light packages. Ran errands for merchants too busy to do it themselves.
Each job paid between one and three copper. Most days, he earned four or five copper. On good days, seven.
He kept every coin in a small leather pouch his mother had given him, hidden under his bed.
Lian Xiu helped. She knew which merchants were fair, which ones cheated, which jobs were worth taking. She introduced Wei Chen to her mother's network—other day laborers, shopkeepers who needed occasional help, people who remembered favors.
"You're building reputation," she explained one afternoon while they rested between jobs. "People talk. If you're reliable, more work comes."
"How do you know this?"
"Because I've been doing it since I was four." Lian Xiu shrugged. "When your father dies and your mother barely earns enough for food, you learn fast."
Wei Chen looked at her. Really looked. She was six years old and already understood economics better than most adults.
"Thank you," he said. "For helping."
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when you're rich and remember who got you started."
She was joking. Probably. But Wei Chen filed the statement away anyway.
Debts mattered. Even small ones.
After two weeks, Wei Chen counted his earnings.
Twenty-three copper coins.
Not much. Barely enough to buy a week's worth of vegetables. But it was his. Earned through his own effort, not given by family or charity.
He sat on his bed, coins spread before him, and did the math.
One gold equaled one hundred silver. One silver equaled one hundred copper.
So one gold equaled ten thousand copper.
He had twenty-three copper.
To afford Feng's training—one gold and eighty silver—he needed eighteen thousand copper.
At his current rate... that would take roughly three years.
Three. Years.
Wei Chen stared at the coins. The number was absurd. Impossible at this pace.
He needed to earn more. Faster. Or find different work entirely.
The next morning, Wei Chen returned to Merchant Liu's stall.
Liu was arranging his wares—the usual collection of trinkets and minor magical items. He looked up as Wei Chen approached, and a knowing smile crossed his face.
"The young shadow mage returns. Come to admire my collection again?"
"I want to work for you."
Liu's smile widened. "Direct. I appreciate that. What makes you think I need an employee?"
"You sell magical items. Some real, most fake. You need someone to move inventory, run deliveries, maybe scare off thieves." Wei Chen met Liu's gaze. "I have Darkness magic. I'm useful."
"You're five."
"I'm intermediate-level Darkness. I'm more dangerous than most adults in this town."
Liu laughed—a genuine sound. "Bold words. Can you back them up?"
"Give me a task. I'll prove it."
Liu considered this, tapping his fingers on the table. Then he reached beneath the counter and produced a small wooden box.
"This needs to be delivered to an address in the East district. The customer already paid, but he's... particular. Doesn't like strangers. Tends to threaten people who knock on his door."
"Why doesn't he pick it up himself?"
"Because he's a paranoid recluse who thinks everyone's trying to rob him." Liu handed Wei Chen the box. "Deliver this without getting chased off or injured, and I'll pay you five copper. Succeed, and we'll discuss regular work."
Wei Chen took the box. "Address?"
Liu rattled off directions. Wei Chen memorized them, nodded once, and left.
The East district was rougher than Wei Chen's neighborhood. Buildings leaned against each other, streets narrowed, and the people moved with the wary tension of those accustomed to trouble.
Wei Chen found the address—a narrow house with barred windows and a door that looked reinforced.
He knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder.
"Go away!" a voice shouted from inside. "I'm not buying anything!"
"I'm not selling. I have a delivery from Merchant Liu."
"Leave it on the step!"
"Liu said to hand it to you directly."
Silence. Then the sound of multiple locks disengaging.
The door opened a crack. A middle-aged man peered out, one eye visible, suspicious and bloodshot.
"You're a child."
"I'm a delivery runner. Here." Wei Chen held up the box.
The man snatched it, inspected it, then looked at Wei Chen again. His gaze sharpened. "You're that Darkness mage everyone's talking about."
Wei Chen said nothing.
"Hmm. Liu sent you on purpose, didn't he? Figured I wouldn't stab a child." The man snorted. "Smart bastard."
He reached into his pocket and produced a copper coin. "For your trouble. Tell Liu I appreciate the discretion."
Wei Chen took the coin, bowed slightly, and left.
Behind him, he heard the locks re-engaging. Multiple locks. Heavy ones.
Paranoid, Wei Chen thought. But practical.
He filed that away too. Paranoia wasn't always irrational. Sometimes it was just preparation.
When Wei Chen returned to Liu's stall, the merchant was waiting with that same knowing smile.
"Success, I take it?"
"He confirmed receipt. Gave me a tip."
"Did he threaten you?"
"No."
"Then you did better than the last three runners I sent." Liu counted out five copper coins and pushed them across the table. "As promised. Plus another five as a hiring bonus."
Ten copper. Wei Chen's largest single payment yet.
"You're hired," Liu continued. "Three times a week. Light work—inventory, deliveries, occasionally standing at the stall while I handle business. Five copper per shift. Interested?"
Wei Chen did the math instantly. Fifteen copper per week. Sixty copper per month.
Still nowhere near enough for Feng's training. But significantly better than his current earnings.
"Yes."
"Good. Start tomorrow." Liu leaned back. "And Wei Chen? That shadow quartz I gave you. Practice with it. I expect my employees to be competent."
"I am."
"Then become more so."
That night, Wei Chen added the day's earnings to his pouch.
Thirty-three copper total now. Still a fraction of what he needed.
But it was progress. Real, measurable progress.
He lay in bed, thinking about numbers. About time. About the gap between where he was and where he needed to be.
Temple lessons taught magic. Feng taught combat. Liu taught economics.
Wei Chen was learning from all three. Slowly. Carefully. Building something.
Not just power. Not just skill.
Leverage.
The kind of advantage that turned impossible goals into difficult ones. And difficult ones into achievable ones.
One gold and eighty silver.
Three years at this rate. But rates could change. Opportunities could appear. Better jobs. Bigger risks. Higher rewards.
Wei Chen closed his eyes, shadow quartz cool against his palm.
He'd find a way. Somehow.
Because the alternative—staying weak, staying poor, staying limited—was unacceptable.
And Wei Chen had never been good at accepting limits.