"I sigh deeply and wipe away my tears, lamenting the hardships of the people's lives." Furen couldn't help but think of this line. However, he didn't know whether the Industrial Revolution had improved or worsened the lot of these working-class neighborhoods.
If the situation had worsened, it meant that the benefits of the Industrial Revolution had not yet reached these inhabitants. And if it had improved, Furen dared not imagine the conditions in which these people lived before the revolution. At this thought, he could only sigh: his own fate was not even secure yet, and here he was already worrying about the fate of others.
Furen, however, was determined to ensure that the people were treated well once he became stronger—no, once he became a god. Even if the outcome might not be ideal, after all, Furen had always been alone, never having had to manage subordinates, much less the people. Self-cultivation, managing one's family, governing the state, and establishing world peace: this was undoubtedly the most widespread philosophy of life among those who had received a Chinese education, and Furen was no exception.
He stopped dwelling on useless thoughts. He was still just a simple apprentice. When you are poor, you cultivate your virtue; when you are well-educated, you work for the world—this was also a principle that Chinese civilization had instilled in him.
Strolling to the National Library in Trier, Furen wasted no time: he went straight up to the fourth floor, determined to study feysac, loen and Highlander.
If the English language knew how hard Furen worked, it would surely have shouted at it: "Why didn't you study me like you studied those languages?"
To get back to the point, Furen was already fluent in Intisian, Hermes, and Ancient Hermes. But Feysac, Loen, and Highlander shared certain similarities with Intisian and Hermes. Furen had expected this: after all, these languages all descended from the common tongue of the Fourth Age, a variant of the ancient giants' language, the language of Solomon's Empire.
As for Hermes, it was the extraordinary language of humans; the sages who created it had necessarily drawn inspiration from the language of ancient Feysac and Hermes, as well as local languages. Furen therefore thought he could learn them quickly.
Time passed quickly. At noon, he went into a small establishment at random to eat, then continued his walk through the streets of Trier.
Sometimes he worried about ending up with a distended stomach, since he always exercised after meals. But by feeling his almost fat-free belly, he immediately dismissed the idea; even great writers recommended a walk after dinner, assuring him it was excellent. He reassured himself at once with a smile.
At 2:30, Furen arrived in front of the Scarlet Café. After observing the surroundings, he noticed that Quvedo and the others were not yet there. With a proud and slightly disdainful tone, he muttered to himself:
"Haa... as always, I'm the only one who's serious. Quvedo is really someone you always have to worry about... haa."
He didn't have time to finish boasting before an arm suddenly closed around his neck, gripping him tightly. Taken by surprise, Furen froze for a moment. Then a clear voice, full of mischief, rang out:
"Hehe, Floren, I've already missed you so much after just one day?"
Furen shuddered. Just seconds before, he'd been inwardly grumbling about Quvedo, and now the man in question had suddenly appeared and grabbed him like that, making him feel a little embarrassed. He secretly hoped Quvedo hadn't overheard his narcissistic remarks. He then tried to remain calm:
"Hm, Quvedo, it's been a while... But please don't squeeze my neck so hard, it's really unpleasant. Have you been here long?"
Quvedo, apparently, hadn't heard any of her whispers. As he led Furen inside the cafe, he replied, "Of course! I'm the one who extended the invitation, you think I wouldn't arrive early?"
But you're not the first one here, hehe. Guess who's here before you?
Furen replied immediately: "No need to think: it's Erich. You two are inseparable... at least, from what I've seen."
Quvedo jumped slightly, then protested:
"Hey, hey, hey! Don't slander me like that! Most of the time, I don't even hang out with Erich. What you saw were coincidences! Illusions! ... Why do I get the feeling that the more I explain, the less credible it seems? Anyway, you guessed it: it's Erich."
He pointed to a table at the back. Indeed, Erich was sitting there, straight and cold as always. Sensing Furen's gaze, he raised a hand in greeting. Furen responded with a smile, thinking to himself:
"My God... being around a guy that cold is truly a test of human resistance to cold."
Once seated, Quvedo took a sip of his already iced coffee. He frowned, but, having nothing better to do, bravely continued drinking it. He asked Furen, "Would you like some coffee?"
Furen took out the pocket watch he kept in the lining of his jacket, the only one he owned. He looked at the time: 2:40 PM.
"Sorry... twenty minutes is too short. It's a bit rushed to properly enjoy a coffee."
Quvedo nodded: "That's true. If we had thirty minutes, that would be perfect. But forty minutes... that would be a disaster. Haa."
The conversation ended there. The three weren't really in the mood to chat; they were waiting for someone, and each seemed eager for the upcoming Beyonders meeting. Even Quvedo, usually a master at setting the mood, was surprisingly calm today.
Little by little, Furen's mind drifted away, without knowing where. Suddenly, Quvedo's melancholic voice pulled him from his thoughts:
"Am I really that worrying?"
"Not really..." Furen, seemingly lost in thought, was completely unaware of his surroundings. But he quickly snapped back to reality, his face flushing crimson. The redness spread from his fair cheeks to the tips of his ears, a burning sensation washing over him. Furen felt his ear tips were unusually hot, like the burning sensation of drinking alcohol.
(End of chapter)