Chapter 2

Boss Liu usually sells a single steamed bun for one and a half yuan. To make five hundred yuan, he’d have to sell three hundred and thirty-four buns—not even counting the cost. Breakfast shops may turn a tidy profit these days, but Liu is known for being stingy; asking him to part with five hundred yuan for a fortune reading is as good as asking for his life.

Yet he couldn’t quite let the matter drop. He hesitated. “But Old Lady Fang didn’t give you five hundred, did she?”

Old Lady Fang’s son works at a big company, earning a decent salary, yet she makes only a few dozen yuan each morning selling vegetables—a testament to her thrift. For such a frugal old woman to spend five hundred for a fortune reading, Liu would sooner believe pumpkins grow on gourd vines.

Rong Jing did not hide the truth, replying honestly, “Grandma Fang helped me, so I gave her the reading as a gift.”

Liu frowned. “And specifically, how did she help you?”

“She told me Suixian is in the neighboring city, and the bus ride takes over an hour.”

Liu’s mouth twitched. That was a plain and unvarnished kind of help.

“So if I take you to Suixian, will you give me a fortune reading too?” he asked.

Rong Jing’s eyes lit up. “You can take me to Suixian?”

He had no money, nor any way to earn it, and his readings were not cheap for ordinary folks. Especially now, with so many charlatans and fake Taoists swindling people. So… if he could hitch a ride, it would be ideal.

Rong Jing’s eyes shone, expectation clear in his gaze.

Liu was pleased by the look and lifted his chin, snorting lightly. “Of course.”

His hometown was Suixian, and as luck would have it, he was planning to go there that afternoon with his wife and child. Tomorrow, his niece was getting married, and they had to attend the ceremony and banquet.

Rong Jing was quick to seize the opportunity; once Liu confirmed, his eyes curved in a smile. “Then if you take me to Suixian, I’ll give you a fortune reading. What do you wish to know?”

“I have a buddy who recently found a good gig and wants me in on it, but I’m hesitant. Kid, just tell me: should I join or not?”

…

When Old Lady Fang returned home, her son was sitting under the old locust tree in the courtyard, talking on the phone.

She paced anxiously, waiting for him to finish, and hurried over as soon as he hung up. “Son, I have something to tell you.”

“Mom? Why are you sweating so much—” Before he finished, she grabbed his arm, flustered. “Oh, never mind that. Listen, while I was selling vegetables today, I met a little immortal.”

A little immortal? Isn’t that just a fraud?

Her son cut her off. “Mom, you believe in this stuff?”

“It’s not about believing—it’s that every word he said was spot on. He mentioned you’re facing a dilemma at work, a choice between two options. Isn’t that exactly what you told me yesterday? Only a handful of us know about it, and I didn’t tell anyone. Yet this little immortal figured it out in a single reading!”

Her son frowned, surprised. Coincidence? He knew his mother well; she wasn’t the type to gossip, which was why he confided in her. Just as she said, only their family knew about his predicament. How could this ‘little immortal’ know?

Could he really have some skill?

While he was still puzzled, Old Lady Fang added, “He also said you should stick to your principles.”

If a moment ago, her son doubted the ‘little immortal,’ hearing “stick to your principles” from his mother’s lips caused his heart to lurch.

His expression grew grave.

He had never told her that his struggle had anything to do with principles.

Old Lady Fang’s son felt his heart pounding, recalling the call he’d just received. He pressed his lips together and asked, “Mom, did that little immortal really say that?”

“Yes.” Old Lady Fang, seeing his expression, became anxious herself. “Ah Yu, we must hold fast to our principles. Never do harm to others!”

Seeing his mother’s worried face, Fang Yu’s heart ached a little. He gently soothed her, led her into the house to rest, and then, turning away, took out his phone and dialed the number from earlier.

“Director Zhang,” Fang Yu said, not waiting for the other to speak, “regarding the raw materials you mentioned, I have some thoughts.”

“The supplier recommended by Director Zhao is his uncle’s factory. I visited the factory; the hygiene is definitely substandard, and I suspect they might use banned substances. Though that’s only my suspicion—I haven’t confirmed it.”

Fang Yu’s company dealt in food products. Recently, a supplier had failed to meet standards, prompting the company to seek a new partner. Fang Yu’s department handled the search. He had already selected several suitable factories, but his boss rejected all of them. Fang Yu was surprised, thinking it was just strict requirements. Then, two days later, he was told not to bother—the new partner was already chosen.

Seeing the name ‘Jianshan,’ Fang Yu felt uneasy. He’d never heard of this factory. He followed protocol, conducting a thorough investigation, and the results were startling.

The factory was filthy, its workers elderly and lacking health certificates or checkups, and the boss was a slick, shameless old rogue.

The more Fang Yu learned, the more troubled he became. He was about to report his findings to his boss when a frustrated colleague pulled him back.

“You’re too stubborn. Didn’t you notice the factory owner shares a surname with our boss and looks just like him? They’re uncle and nephew!”

Fang Yu was stunned. Before he could respond, his colleague continued, “Just let it go. If you ruin the boss’s plans, he’ll make your life hell.”

“But—”

“No buts! The boss knows what he’s doing. It won’t kill anyone—maybe just lower quality. The higher-ups might not even approve the deal.”

Fang Yu thought that made sense. There was no need to stick his neck out.

But whenever he remembered standing in that filthy factory, unable to find a place to step, holding his breath, his heart raced.

Guilt and unease tangled around him like hemp rope, suffocating him.

Now, Rong Jing’s words—‘stick to your principles’—were like scissors, cutting through the mess and giving him space to breathe.

He lowered his eyes and quietly replied to Director Zhang. Something was said that made him pause, and when he finally hung up, he exhaled in relief, as if surviving a disaster.

Old Lady Fang noticed his look and asked, “What happened?”

Fang Yu supported his mother’s arm, his other hand pressed to his wildly beating heart. He whispered, “Director Zhang said he visited the factory today.”

No wonder the initial call focused on whether Fang Yu had personally inspected the place and what he thought. Director Zhang was truly competent and cared about the company. He must have investigated the connection between Jianshan Factory and Fang Yu’s boss before calling to test the department.

“He also said I was the only one in the department who spoke honestly.” The more Fang Yu thought about it, the more amazed he was by the ‘little immortal.’ He let out a long breath and asked his mother about the encounter.

Old Lady Fang gave a brief account, mentioning that Rong Jing looked younger than twenty, which shocked Fang Yu even more.

“So young?”

“Yes, and because I told him where Suixian was, he gave me a reading for free.”

The old lady thought little of it, calling the immortal a good person. Fang Yu frowned; it felt odd for a twenty-year-old to ask directions nowadays—anyone with a smartphone could find Suixian in seconds.

Curious, Fang Yu asked his mother for the immortal’s location, then headed to Liu’s breakfast shop.

By the time he arrived, the shop was empty of customers. In the small space, Liu and Rong Jing sat across from each other, several old coins spread on the table.

Soon, a fair hand reached out to carefully gather the coins, then lifted his gaze, looking past Liu’s slightly plump figure directly at Fang Yu.

Rong Jing’s eyesight was sharp; he smiled and waved at Fang Yu, greeting him, “You’re Grandma Fang’s son?”

Even though he’d heard from his mother how young Rong Jing was, seeing that face in person, Fang Yu was still surprised.

His mother had only told him Rong Jing was young, not that he was so handsome.

Fang Yu nodded to Liu, then walked over to Rong Jing, a little awkward. “Master, did you figure that out too?”

Rong Jing said nothing; Liu snorted with laughter. “What’s there to figure out? Xiao Fang, you and your mom look just alike.”

Rong Jing nodded.

Fang Yu was embarrassed.

Well, that’s true.

Liu, a shrewd man, guessed Fang Yu had something to discuss with Rong Jing. Having gotten his answer, he cheerfully vacated his seat. “You two chat, I’ll tidy up.”

Liu went into the back room. Fang Yu cleared his throat and sat across from Rong Jing, asking softly, “How should I address you, Master?”

“Just call me Rong Jing.”

Fang Yu nodded, called him Master Rong, and continued, “My mother said you asked where Suixian was. Are you in some trouble?”

The question startled Rong Jing, his eyes widening involuntarily.

How did Fang Yu know, even though he couldn’t divine?

Seeing his surprise, Fang Yu was reminded of the kitten his son kept at home.

He explained his reasoning, and Rong Jing understood, feeling sheepish.

Only two minutes ago, Rong Jing had learned from Liu’s calendar what year it was. It had been twelve years since he entered the coffin and slept. Twelve years was a long time; his understanding of society had slipped. Fang Yu said every young person now had a smartphone and didn’t need to ask directions.

Rong Jing remembered living with Xie Changshi twelve years ago; Xie had no phone—he was truly poor.

Times had changed.

He rubbed his nose, mind spinning, and spun a plausible tale. “To be honest, I have no phone or money, and have been living in the mountains cultivating myself. I don’t know much about life below.”

Hearing this, Fang Yu immediately conjured the story of a young disciple descending from a hidden sect to train, carrying his master’s orders.

He thought for a moment and asked, “Do you need me to take you to Suixian?”

Rong Jing waved his hand. “No need, Boss Liu is going this afternoon—I can hitch a ride.”

“Then let me pay you for the reading.”

But Rong Jing shook his head. “I told you that reading was a gift for Grandma Fang, so I can’t take money. That’s the rule.”

However…

He blinked and smiled shyly. “If you’d really like to thank me, could you buy me some steamed buns? I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m a bit hungry.”

Fang Yu, surprised and delighted, nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

Five minutes later.

Under the gaze of Fang Yu and Liu, Rong Jing ate fifty steamed buns in one sitting.

Fang Yu: “…”

Liu: “…”