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He Lingchuan lifted his gaze and saw an old woman wandering in, her head turning this way and that as if searching for something. Her gait was awkward; her toes turned inward with every step.
She was small and shriveled, the skin on her face like dried bark, yet her round and taut belly bulged faintly beneath her clothes like a knot of wood that refused to die. The sight made He Lingchuan think of the weathered stumps that stood half-buried along the riverbank.
“Are you the shopkeeper?”
Her voice startled him. Though her face was wrinkled and spotted with age, her tone carried the strength and clarity of someone much younger. When she smiled, he noticed her yellowed teeth were all intact, and her lips moved with nimble sharpness.
“More or less,” he said honestly. “I’ve only just gotten this shop. It’ll be a while before it opens again.”
“What do you plan to sell?” The old woman did not wait for an answer before nosing about the shelves, picking up and turning over whatever caught her eye as though she owned the place.
“I’ve not quite decided yet.” He gave a small laugh. In truth, he had not had the time or energy to handle the shop in the dreamscape at all. The plan was to let the authorities rent it out and collect payment by the quarter. “And you are?”
“I, I collect things.” Her eyes glimmered as they darted over the cluttered...
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