Chapter Two: Selling Moonlight to Strangers

Gu Ye touched his sleep-tossed hair. "Advanced civilization. Low-grade manners." Selling moonlight was harder than causing sneezes. He did not own the moon, and strangers did not buy air. He purchased one hundred tiny glass bottles and wrote TONIGHT'S MOONLIGHT—EXPIRES AT SUNRISE. The first customer was drunk. He paid one yuan if Gu Ye drank a bottle. Gu Ye discovered Tang Ke had filled them with tap water to give them weight. "Moonlight has a mineral aftertaste," the drunk said. The second customer was a night-shift nurse. She bought one for a patient who could not see the moon. Then came a cleaner and a delivery rider. Some called Gu Ye a scammer. Some treated one yuan as a performance ticket.