“Ten! Nine! Eight—”
The voice outside sounded like a death sentence countdown, each shout louder than the last.
Shen Qingqing rushed to the door and pressed both hands firmly against it. Her feet slipped on the floor, the broken heel of her shoe scraping across the ground with a sharp screech.
She cracked the door open just enough to reveal half her face.
Standing outside was a woman in her fifties with tightly curled hair. A heavy ring of keys hung from her waist, and the gold chain around her neck bounced as she breathed heavily with her hands planted on her hips.
“Sister Wang—”
“Don’t try getting friendly with me!” The woman slapped the doorframe so hard another chunk of peeling plaster fell from the wall. “Three months! Three thousand six hundred yuan! Do you think my place is some kind of charity shelter?”
The shout made Shen Qingqing’s ears ring. Fragments of the original owner’s memories finally surfaced in her mind.
Wang Guihua, the landlord from the first floor, someone who collected rent more punctually than the King of Hell collecting souls.
“Sister Wang, calm down a little, I’ve just been short on money lately—”
“And what does that have to do with me? Last month you said you’d pay by the end of the month, then disappeared completely. This month you said next week. Do I look stupid to you?” Wang Guihua stretched her neck to peer inside the apartment. “Where’s that blind man of yours? Doesn’t he work construction every day? Even hauling cement should earn him at least eighty or a hundred yuan a day. Where’s the money?”
Heat rose to Shen Qingqing’s face.
The original owner had squeezed every cent out of Huo Yan, spending it all on counterfeit bags and discounted clothes without paying a single cent of rent.
“Sister Wang, give me another three days. Just three days,” Shen Qingqing pleaded as she opened the door a little wider and forced out a strained smile. Even the muscles in her face twitched. “I’ll gather every cent and pay you back in full.”
“With what? Your mouth?”
“I swear. Three days. If I can’t pay by then, you can change the locks and throw all my stuff out.”
Wang Guihua narrowed her eyes and looked her up and down, clearly still unconvinced.
Shen Qingqing hurriedly added, “I’ll even give you an extra hundred yuan as interest.”
That finally worked.
Wang Guihua’s expression eased slightly as she jabbed a finger against Shen Qingqing’s forehead. “Three days. Seventy-two hours. I already set an alarm on my phone. If you’re even one yuan short, get the hell out.”
With that, she flicked her hand dismissively and stomped downstairs, her gold necklace jingling loudly.
Shen Qingqing shut the door and slid down against it until she collapsed onto the floor, her legs limp as noodles.
She turned to look toward the bed.
Huo Yan leaned quietly against the wall with both lace-wrapped hands resting on his knees, his head tilted toward the doorway. His face showed no emotion at all.
He was waiting.
Shen Qingqing knew exactly what he was waiting for.
Every time the original owner suffered outside, she came home and vented it on him. If the landlord scolded her, she would return and whip him with a belt twice. If someone looked down on her while shopping, she would come home and burn his fingers with cigarette butts.
Huo Yan’s shoulders lowered slightly as his back pressed harder against the wall, his chin tightening.
It was the posture of someone preparing to be beaten.
Shen Qingqing stared at him for three seconds, feeling a suffocating heaviness in her chest.
But she didn’t touch him.
Instead, she sat down on the floor and began searching through the original owner’s belongings.
She overturned the plastic box beneath the bed, searched under the pillow, pulled open every drawer in the TV stand, and even dug through the hidden pockets inside the counterfeit bags.
In the end, all she found was two one-yuan coins and a single fifty-cent coin.
Shen Qingqing clenched the two yuan and fifty cents tightly in her palm. The cold metal pressed painfully into her skin.
“Two fifty,” she said dryly, her voice sounding strangled.
Huo Yan’s ear twitched slightly.
“Two yuan and fifty cents.” Shen Qingqing slapped the coins onto the floor, her voice rising an entire octave. “That’s all we own! Two lousy yuan and fifty cents!”
Tilting her head back toward the mold-stained ceiling, she wailed dramatically, “Dear God, did you transmigrate me here just to starve me to death? I can’t even afford instant noodles!”
Huo Yan frowned faintly. Transmigrated?
The word rolled through his mind before Shen Qingqing’s howling drowned it out.
Shen Qingqing crouched on the floor hugging her head while the coins sat by her feet. Sunlight filtered through the newspaper-covered window and reflected weakly off the pitiful little pile of change.
Just as she buried her face into her knees—
Ding!
A sound rang out in her mind.
It resembled a phone notification, or the sound effect of opening a treasure chest in a game, crisp and clear as it exploded directly inside her skull.
Then came light.
Not light from outside, but light erupting from within her head. A translucent interface suddenly spread across her vision as glowing golden text scrolled over it.
[Food and Medicine Share the Same Origin: Culinary Codex Successfully Bound]
[Host: Shen Qingqing]
[Current Level: Lv.0 Street Stall Beginner]
[Newbie Gift Pack Delivered. Please Claim.]
Shen Qingqing’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open into a perfect O.
Golden light flashed across the interface as a gift box icon popped up and automatically opened. Inside floated an old yellowed recipe sheet covered in dense writing.
[Congratulations, you have obtained the Core Recipe: God-Tier Street Fried Rice Noodles]
[Recipe Rank: S-Class]
[Additional Effect: Grants a 10% anger-soothing effect for 30 minutes after consumption]
[Required Ingredients: 200g dried rice noodles, 2 eggs, 150g bean sprouts, chopped scallions, soy sauce, salt, cooking oil]
[Estimated Cost: 4.5 yuan]
[Estimated Selling Price: 8-12 yuan per serving]
[Note: Enhanced by the Culinary Codex. Flavor surpasses similar foods by 300%. Returning customer probability increased by 80%.]
Shen Qingqing read every line three times over.
Four and a half yuan cost. The selling price is eight to twelve yuan.
Dried rice noodles, eggs, bean sprouts, scallions.
All the cheapest ingredients from the market.
She sprang to her feet instantly.
“I’m rich!”
Huo Yan’s body tensed as he turned toward her voice.
Shen Qingqing paced circles around the room, her broken heels pounding noisily against the floorboards. She grabbed the two yuan and fifty cents again so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
The cost was four and a half yuan, but she only had two and a half.
She was missing two yuan.
Her gaze swept around the room, over the counterfeit bags, the discounted clothes, the empty instant noodle cups, and the dried-up toothpaste tube.
Finally, her eyes landed on the man sitting on the bed.
Huo Yan leaned against the wall with his lace-wrapped hands resting on his knees, his gaunt face expressionless beneath his sharply protruding cheekbones.
Shen Qingqing stared at him.
Her gaze slowly traveled from his face down to his pocket.
The several hundred-yuan bills she had stuffed back into his pocket at the construction site earlier were still there.
A chill suddenly crawled up Huo Yan’s spine.
He couldn’t see, but he could feel it.
Her gaze was like two nails pinned into his body, moving slowly downward before stopping somewhere specific.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“What do you want?”
The words came out low and guarded.
Shen Qingqing walked over and stood directly in front of him, her shadow covering him completely.
“Huo Yan.” He didn’t answer.
“Lend me two yuan from your pocket.”
The corner of Huo Yan’s mouth twitched.
“Two yuan?”
“Yeah, just two yuan. I’ll pay you back with interest later.”
When had this woman ever called it borrowing when she took money from him before? When had she ever mentioned repayment?
Huo Yan curled his fingers slightly. The wounds beneath the lace strips throbbed sharply like needles stabbing into his skin.
“You stuffed the money back into my pocket this morning, and now you want to take it again?”
Shen Qingqing’s face twitched awkwardly.
Hearing it out loud really did sound ridiculous.
“I’m not taking all of it. Just two yuan, seriously.” She crouched down so she was level with him. “I’ve got a way to make money. The cost is four and a half yuan. I already have two and a half, so I’m short two yuan. Lend it to me and I’ll pay you back double tomorrow.”
Huo Yan tilted his head slightly, his vacant eyes aimed in her direction.
“What kind of plan?”
“Fried rice noodles.”
“Fried rice noodles.”
“Street fried rice noodles. I know how to make them. We can sell them for money.”
Huo Yan fell silent for several seconds.
Then he reached into his pocket and touched the wrinkled bills inside, his fingertips brushing across them briefly.
After a moment, he pulled out two bills and held them out in front of him.
“The extra is interest.”
Shen Qingqing lowered her eyes and saw two hundred-yuan bills.
“I said two yuan—”
“Take it.” His voice remained perfectly flat. “If you can really make money, then I won’t have to haul cement at construction sites every day. I’m willing.”
Shen Qingqing parted her lips slightly as she stared at the money in his hand. The dried blood on his fingertips stained the red bills faintly.
She reached out and accepted them.
But she only took one.
“One hundred is enough. Keep the rest for yourself.”
Huo Yan’s hand remained suspended in midair, the second hundred-yuan bill still pinched between his fingers. The black lace around his knuckles against the bright red banknote created such an absurd image it almost looked like a painting.
Shen Qingqing stuffed the coins and the bill into her pocket. The glowing interface still floated in her mind, the ingredient list flashing line by line before her eyes.
Dried rice noodles, eggs, bean sprouts, scallions, soy sauce.
The urban village market closed at six o’clock. She glanced at her phone.
Four thirty, still enough time.
She suddenly grabbed Huo Yan by the wrist.
Huo Yan jerked again.
“Come on, let’s go make money!”