Chương 6: Job Interview

The jet lag must've been worse than he'd anticipated. By the time Jordan woke up, he was alone inside the hut. The family had started their day, leaving their indolent guest to snooze. The muscles were… sore, but not as debilitating as he'd feared. He pushed himself upright with an old-man groan, then noticed a pile of clean clothes at the foot of the bed. No words had been exchanged, but the intent was clear enough.

At any rate, Jordan was glad for it; he'd felt guilty about soiling the sheets with his sweat-soaked work clothes. Actually putting them on was an ordeal by itself. His closest reference point was the yukata he'd once worn at a traditional Japanese inn. But this Stormvaster relative was another level of complexity. The biggest difficulty was the sash. No matter how tightly he wrapped it around himself, he couldn't get the collars of the tunic to stay flush with his body.

They came loose with even the slightest movement, flirting with public indecency. At the height of his frustration (and embarrassment), a god once again came to reluctant rescue. Charisma DC 12: success N üwa: "I can't tell if you're working at a brothel or going to a funeral or both. Tuck in the right panel first and secure it with that inner string. Then left panel over right; maintain the tension while you tie a flat knot with the sash.

Make sure the knot is off-center, or it'll push against the panels every time you bend. My word, I'd like to meet the mother who let this barbarian out into the world." Reluctant, condescending, and oddly obsessed with his mother. But what else was new? Jordan took the advice without overt complaint. He hadn't even noticed the inner string until Nüwa pointed it out, and that seemed to be the difference maker.

"Thanks," he mumbled into an empty room.

"But if any of y'all insult my mom again, I'ma cast [Purge Divinity] on all of you." Strength DC 18: failure Zhurong:"Pah! I'd like to see you try!" Newly dressed in the local fashion, Jordan made to head out. As he crossed the room, his eyes fell upon the central table, where someone (Sarina, surely) had laid out a cup of milk tea and a plate of breakfast. A clump of bread, a helping of leftover stew, and pieces of an unfamiliar butter-like product. Jordan hesitated, but only for a second.

He partook gratefully, noting the surprising saltiness of the tea as well as the mild cheesiness of the butter. Nowhere near as sumptuous as last night's dinner, but it was a solid start to the day nonetheless. As Jordan chewed his last bite, he also felt a lump in his throat. He'd suddenly thought of Mom's sandwich on the kitchen counter—of the regret he'd been holding in since yesterday. If he could choose again, he would go out the back door.

Greet his mother as she worked her garden, maybe help her pick a green bean she couldn't reach. He washed down the bite—along with the lump—with a swig of salted milk tea. Outside, the sun was out and high up in the cloudless sky. Midday at the earliest, from the look of things. Eager to make himself useful, Jordan scanned the area in search of his generous hosts. That was how he noticed his Vessel. The Heavenly Cauldron sat neatly inside a shed, next to various farming tools.

Someone (Mattock, surely) must have unloaded it last night. Jordan felt a little strange looking at it. When he'd first arrived in this game world, his foremost concern had been the Vessel and its limitless potential. How would he go about filling the damn thing? How would he move it? Protect it from would-be Vessel poachers? Yet, having spent an evening in the warm company of the Mallet family, it all felt somewhat… secondary. To be sure, he would have to engage with the 'game' side of Vesselia eventually.

But couldn't that wait until after he'd been decent to the people who'd been so decent to him? Wisdom DC 10: success Shennong:"Your instincts are only too natural, young one. Only through connections with others around us do we derive meaning from life. Cultivation merely for the sake of it is a lonely, arduous road. I, personally, much prefer to smell the peonies along the way." Dexterity DC 12: success Nezha:"Sure, but life isn't all sunshine and peonies, is it?

These farm folk do seem genuinely nice, I'll grant you. But do you plan to burden them forever with your presence? You'll have to strike out on your own sooner rather than later, and when you do, you'll realize power to be your most valuable asset." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Constitution DC 14: success Xihe:"Whatever you decide, set a course and follow it.

The migratory bird never loses sight of its destination, no matter which way the wind blows." The overall improvement in Jordan's mood had also done wonders for his perception of [Heavenly Gossip]. The six deities rarely agreed with each other. And they each embodied weird quirks on top of their own brand of arrogance. Yet, their words also often contained useful kernels of truth—especially when Jordan passed their checks. (Well, maybe with the exception of Zhurong. The jury was still out on that meathead.) Jordan was just about to throw his own banter into the mix, when he was startled by a loud clatter. He turned to find Sickle staring at him, mouth slightly agape upon an otherwise gloomy visage. As for the noise, the culpable object now lay on its side in a soggy mess. It was a bucket of milk, which Sickle had presumably dropped, its contents now spreading over the grass. Jordan rushed over to help—to quite literally cry over spilled milk. He only stopped when Sickle visibly flinched at his approach.

The milk continued to soak into the ground as the two stared at each other in awkward silence.

"It's alright, Mr Jordan!" That was when Sarina came to the rescue, running up behind her daughter.

"Let me handle this." The older woman's Vessel, called Cup of Warmth, also hung from the sash at her waist. It emitted a now familiar rosy glow as she cast [Shape Liquid]. The milk congealed into a wobbly sphere as it left the ground, free of grass, dirt, or anything that wasn't [Liquid]. The whole thing dropped back into the bucket, good as new. Sarina then tugged at her daughter's arm as she whispered something in her ear. Sickle, gloomy as ever, turned and ran off without a word.

Jordan stared after the younger woman, still none the wiser about what had just transpired.

"You'll have to forgive her, Mr Jordan," Sarina said with a smile that looked perhaps as sad as it was warm.

"Even I had to do a double take when I saw you just now. Because, what do you know, you're a perfect fit for my son's clothes." Jordan stifled a small gasp of realization. These clothes … they must be hand-me-downs from Hatchet. He wasn't entirely sure how to react. On the one hand, it felt a bit creepy to be wearing a dead man's clothes—and to have scared(?) his surviving sister in them. On the other, Jordan recognized it to be a sign of the family's regard for him.

"Uh, thank you for lending me Hatchet's clothes. I know what he meant to you and yours, and I'll… I'll do my best to honor his memory." That came out just as awkward as it'd sounded in Jordan's head. Seeing that Sarina was about ready to burst out laughing, he hastened to add,"It… it'll also be my honor to repay you for your kindness. Is there anything I can do to help around the house? Or maybe… help Mallet and Mattock with their work?"

"You can start by handing me your old garments. I'll get them washed, and Sickle will patch them up by the end of the day. Besides that… well, you tell me. What can you do? Any skills or specialties we should know about?" Jordan was taken aback. When was the last time anyone had asked him this? Well, at a job interview, he supposed. People always come to me for spreadsheet tips. And my powerpoints generally won't bore the tears out of potential clients. What else would you like to know?

Where I see myself in five years? How my own values align with the company's— Jordan forced himself to simmer down. He didn't wish to do this to himself, not when his mood had been on such a nice upswing.

"Um, this might sound stupid, but I'm alright at cleaning things. Does your house need mopping? Or maybe I could help organize your shed?" Sarina blinked several times, then did burst out in laughter. Loud and joyous. Rippling amidst the early afternoon breeze.

"Sure, I'll take you up on it; let's see if you're as good as you say you are. I'd love for you to sweep the house for me, and once you're done with that… will you check in on Sickle? She'll be working on her embroideries over by that knoll over there. I'm sure she'd like to apologize for the—""Oh… no, no," Jordan cut in, mortified.

"No apology needed. If she's working, I really shouldn't—""Please, Mr Jordan." For a moment, the laughter disappeared from Sarina's face, leaving only the wrinkly shadow of aged sorrow. Only for a moment, but Jordan didn't— couldn't —miss it. For he'd oft seen—and hidden from—the very same look on his own mother.

"Please," Sarina said again.

"I think… I think it'll do Sickle a world of good… just to have someone to talk to." Two bundles of gloom trying to strike up a conversation. Not to mention the culture shock of it all! Jordan had no earthly idea how any of it would work, and his mind already grasped for excuses to get out of it. In the end, however, he gave Sarina what he hoped to be a reassuring nod.

"I will, Mrs Sarina. I'll… do my best." Sarina smiled, her sunny disposition back on full display.

"No need to be so formal, Mr Jordan. Just call me Old Sar, like all the neighbors do." Jordan nodded again, though rather weakly at that. He couldn't imagine himself calling anyone 'Old Sar', nor did he see any 'neighbors' for miles all around. Yet, as he trotted over to the shed to grab some cleaning supplies, the system acknowledged his first foray into the local lifestyle. New Feat unlocked. [Shennong's Blessing (Lv. 1)]: Empathy begins with an understanding of self.

Be kind to yourself, first and foremost, and you'll soon learn to be kind to others. In recognition of your emotional maturity, you've gained a permanent [1]-point upgrade to Wisdom. WIS: 22 -> 23 VR efficiency: 1. 22 -> 1. 23 Jordan didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. So far, the gods seemed awfully easy to please, handing out [Blessings] left and right. If only he could be so lenient with himself… then maybe he wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place.