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Marvel Plane Trader

Tác giả: FicNovels
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One morning, Josh woke up from a dream and found himself transported from the 21st century to Chicago in 1943, where he became a poor street kid struggling to survive. World War II? For Josh, who was not yet an adult, it was too remote. As an orphan, the most important thing for him was to figure out how to survive in this era. Fortunately, he had a dimensional trading system, and in this era, being a time and space smuggler could make a decent living. However, a few months later, just as Josh's life had begun to improve somewhat, he watched in silence as Captain America performed on stage with a group of girls at a war fundraising event. Oh no, this was the Marvel Universe! ************** This is not my story and is written by a Chinese author. A few months ago, I read this novel, and it quickly became one of the novels I liked most and would like to share with you. This is an amateur translation. Even so, I have cleaned all the chapters I publish to the maximum. It's not perfect, but it's still an enjoyable read. Nothing compared to just MTL. For those who want to read the original, the link is: https://www.69shu.com/txt/43491.htm Read up to 16 extra chapters on my website: https://ficnovels.com

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Chapter 1Golden Trade

In February 1943, Chicago was still cold. However, as a significant industrial city located far from the battlefield and in the heart of the United States, Chicago was still a bustling city of peace and prosperity, despite when the world war raged in Europe and Asia.

During the day, the busy streets were filled with cars and people browsing the numerous shops. The atmosphere was no less festive than in the 21st century.

It was hard to believe that the world's largest and deadliest war was being fought on the other side of the world, except for the occasional war posters pasted on the street corners.

However, none of this had anything to do with Josh.

At this moment, he was wrapped in a coat that didn't quite fit his frame, crossing the busy street and entering a shop by the roadside.

"Take a look if you need anything!" The old shopkeeper inside said without looking up, with the sound of the doorbell ringing crisply.

The grocer's store was meticulously organized, with scissors, cutlery, radios, and vinyl records all neatly placed in their designated spots.

But Josh was not here to buy anything but to sell something.

"I heard you buy gold here!" Josh walked to the counter and asked the old shopkeeper, who was tinkering with an old radio.

Hearing his words, the old shopkeeper finally looked up and glanced at him, surprised to see a teenager of fifteen or sixteen, but he still nodded.

Josh didn't hesitate and took a bag from his coat pocket, placing it on the counter and opening it to reveal the gold jewelry inside.

"Hey, this looks slightly like Indian craftsmanship, but not quite. Where did you get it from?" The old shopkeeper was surprised to see the gold jewelry in the bag.

"So what? Does Indian craftsmanship make it worth more money?" Josh replied with a question instead of an answer.

"Not really, it doesn't fit the mainstream aesthetic after all." The old shopkeeper shrugged. The aesthetic here was undoubtedly that of the white people, and the rough Indian craftsmanship could not attract the attention of those high society ladies. Therefore, the fate of this gold jewelry was to be melted down.

"So, how much can you offer?" Josh asked again, not caring about the craftsmanship because he knew it was not Indian jewelry.

"Don't rush, young man! Just wait a moment!" The old shopkeeper comforted him, then turned around and began to search slowly.

Josh was not in a hurry either because he had previously inquired that this was a well-known old grocery store in the neighborhood and a pawnshop.

And what he would sell was just gold, not any illegal items.

According to the law Roosevelt promulgated ten years ago, it was indeed illegal to privately buy and sell gold. This law would only be abolished entirely in the Nixon era, more than 20 years later.

However, since the Second World War, this law has been more relaxed than it was at the beginning.

In addition, during the war, many refugees flooded the United States, and the US government turned a blind eye to private gold transactions, so small-scale gold transactions were quite common.

Of course, the safest way is to sell gold to the bank for $35 per ounce, about 28 grams per ounce.

But doing so would be too much of a loss.

Because the price of gold among civilians has already risen to $50 per ounce, the $15 difference is not a small amount, especially considering the dollar's purchasing power in this era, which is extremely strong.

Taking Chicago as an example, a set meal with coffee, meat, and vegetables in a typical restaurant costs only 50-60 cents, while a giant hamburger costs only 20 cents.

In other words, for ordinary people, even if they eat out daily, $15 is enough to live large for more than a week. And the gold that Josh brought this time is not too much or too little; it's ten ounces.

This $150 is a real difference, two or three months' income for an ordinary person.

Don't be fooled by the fact that the average income of Americans in 1943 had already reached over a thousand dollars.

But what does "average" mean? Those who know, know.

In reality, a yearly income of $700-800 was already considered a high salary for ordinary people in the city.

Why did American youth eagerly join the military during World War II?

Isn't it because the military offered high enough salaries?

The basic monthly salary for a private was $50, and the rank promotion would add $10 to $20 per level. When you reached the rank of sergeant, you could earn $100 a month, which didn't include various allowances.

So $150 is a significant amount.

Josh didn't have much gold, so he was willing to take a little risk rather than give up such a large sum to the American bank.

Fortunately, the old shopkeeper didn't pull any tricks and quickly returned with some tools, such as measuring cups, water, scales, and other items.

"The purity of this gold is not too high, probably only about 80%, so I can only give you a price of $40," the old shopkeeper concluded after using a bunch of tools to measure the weight of the gold.

"Deal!" Josh wasn't too surprised by the old shopkeeper's conclusion because the purity of this gold could be a little low, after all. The metallurgical level of that world was not advanced, and the gold in Planetos couldn't even be turned into bars.

So Josh promptly agreed to the price offered by the old shopkeeper.

"Very good, a total of 9.8 ounces; I'm not cheating you, let's call it ten ounces. Here's $400. Take it, kid!" Seeing Josh readily agree, the old shopkeeper didn't delay further, turned around, and pulled out a roll of dollars from the counter. After taking out two bills, he handed the rest to Josh.

Josh took the roll of dollars, untied the leather strap, and found eight $50 bills, neither more nor less, just right.

After all, the United States had yet to enter the era of credit cards, so large denominations of dollars were still not rare, unlike in the 21st century, where $50 bills were hard to come by on the market.

"Give me the $50 in change, preferably in $5, but $10 is also okay!" Josh counted the money, verified it was genuine, and pushed back the $50 bill.

Not rare doesn't mean it's not inconvenient to not have small change due to the high purchasing power.

The old shopkeeper didn't say much. He just nodded and changed it into a roll of $5 bills.

After verifying everything was correct, Josh re-tied the money, put it in his pocket, and prepared to leave.

"If you have more goods next time, you can still come to me. The reputation of Old Hawk in this area is still pretty good!" Just as he was about to leave, the old shopkeeper's voice came from behind.

"Of course!" The words startled Josh slightly; he nodded and walked out the door.

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