The Research Institute

"Boss, a bowl of cold noodles."

A low voice interrupted He Ao's attention.

"Alright," He Ao responded, skillfully opening the cabinet while looking up at the person who had arrived. It was a familiar face, the same man he had brushed past at the police station today. He didn't ask any extra questions, but instead softly inquired, "Handsome, do you want a large or small bowl? Sweet and sour or spicy?"

"How much is it?"

The man glanced at He Ao, but his gaze didn't linger on He Ao; instead, he looked into the depths of the night.

"Large bowl is eight yuan, small bowl is six yuan. Sweet and sour and spicy are the same price."

He Ao lowered his head and answered slowly.

"Give me a large bowl, sweet and sour. I'll eat here."

The man said casually, then walked towards the small folding tables set up nearby.

There weren't many of these folding tables, about five or six. Next to the folding tables were several cylindrical plastic stools placed haphazardly. Some young people were gathered around the tables, eating cold noodles and chatting and laughing. These were night shift workers from the nearby industrial zone.

Their night shift usually started at 11:30 PM, and they would typically come here around 11:00 PM to eat something to fill their stomachs.

These young people looked up at the man, curiously observing his attire, then lowered their heads and continued chatting.

He Ao took out a wide-mouthed stainless steel ladle, holding the handle with one hand and picking up a large chopstick-full of cold noodles with the other, dropping them into the ladle. Then, he quickly added salt, MSG, chicken bouillon, sugar, light soy sauce, vinegar, chili oil, minced garlic, sesame oil, oyster sauce, and toasted sesame seeds.

The key to the sweet and sour flavor was the perfect balance of sweetness and sourness. If it was too sour, it would affect the taste. If it wasn't sour enough, it wouldn't stimulate the appetite. Sugar could neutralize the sourness of the vinegar, creating a taste that was first sour, then sweet, like the feeling of sweetness after bitterness, which was both delicious and appetite-boosting.

Generally, sweet and sour flavor wouldn't include chili, but He Ao liked to add a very small amount of chili. The aroma and spiciness brought by the chili and minced garlic could stimulate the taste buds and dispel the coldness in the body at night. However, he couldn't add too much; even a little extra would overpower the main flavor and mask the freshness of the sweet and sour.

After adding the seasonings, He Ao quickly stirred the cold noodles, even flipping the ladle in the air, causing the cold noodles to fly out along the inner wall of the ladle and flip 180 degrees in the air.

A key factor affecting the taste of cold noodles was whether they could be mixed evenly.

Anyone who had eaten noodles, especially dry noodles, knew that whether the sauce could evenly coat every strand of noodle determined whether the bowl of noodles would be fragrant and delicious or salty and bland.

When every strand of noodle was coated with a bright red and even layer of seasoned oil, He Ao stopped. He opened the side dish box and added cooked kelp strips, blanched fresh bean sprouts, chopped green onions, and fried crispy soybeans in order.

The moment these side dishes and green onions fell into the ladle, they were quickly stirred into the noodles.

However, this time the stirring wasn't as vigorous as the last because bean sprouts were mixed in.

Some people liked to add shredded cucumber to cold noodles. The purpose of shredded cucumber was to provide a refreshing crunch and cut through the richness.

But He Ao preferred bean sprouts. Bean sprouts were also refreshing and crunchy, but they weren't as uniformly hard as shredded cucumber. They were firm on the outside and soft on the inside, and biting into them released a burst of juice.

He Ao used boiling water that had been infused with lemon slices to blanch the bean sprouts. Lemon not only cut through richness, but it also had a unique, slightly sour taste different from vinegar.

When these treated bean sprouts were mixed with the noodles and brought to the mouth, the moment the teeth bit down, the soft and chewy noodles, the fresh and crisp bean sprouts, the sweet and sour flavor, and the slight sourness of the lemon mixed together. Under the stirring of the tongue and the collision of the teeth, it was like a shy first love, charming and coy, both wanting and resisting.

It was unforgettable.

Of course, bean sprouts weren't without their drawbacks. Bean sprouts spoiled easily after blanching, so if they weren't sold out, they had to be thrown away. Also, they were troublesome to prepare, so fewer and fewer people used them now.

This series of dazzling operations actually took only two or three minutes. He Ao took out a small paper bowl, packed the cold noodles, inserted disposable chopsticks, and placed them on the small table in front of the man.

"Boss, your business is good."

The man hesitated, then suddenly asked somewhat stiffly.

"Yes, it's good," He Ao wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He handed the QR code for payment to the man. "Eight yuan."

"You seem to work very hard," the man took out his phone and scanned the code to pay. He seemed unaccustomed to doing this kind of work, his tone awkward and stiff. "And you sell so cheaply, your income isn't high, right..."

"Payment received, eight yuan."

The voice broadcast from the phone.

"You're still in school, right? I have a part-time job here..." the man continued. As the conversation went on, he seemed to find a little confidence and was about to continue, but was interrupted by He Ao's voice.

"It's really not that high. I set up my stall thirty days a month, and I can sell seventy or eighty bowls every night. I can earn six or seven hundred yuan a day, which is about eighteen or nineteen thousand a month, less than twenty thousand. Then various costs have to be deducted, and not much is left. It's all hard-earned money..."

As He Ao spoke, he suddenly realized that the air seemed to have quieted down. He looked at the man in front of him and saw that the man had already started eating his noodles silently at some point, seemingly when he mentioned 'twenty thousand a month'.

He thought for a moment and still continued to ask,

"Um, handsome, you just said you had a part-time job..."

"No, no such thing." The man quickly waved his hand. "That job isn't suitable for you."

"Oh."

He Ao returned to his stall somewhat strangely. However, since the other person wasn't willing to talk about it, he didn't press the matter. Moreover, his long experience of looking for part-time jobs told him that when a stranger approached him and said, 'I have a part-time job here,' they were either a black intermediary or a scammer.

He Ao had been scammed by a scammer when he was in high school. They said it was 'high-paying and stable,' 'can be done at home,' and 'earn over ten thousand a month,' but to do it, he had to pay a 399 yuan deposit.

He Ao paid, and then there was no 'then'.

That month, he ate cold steamed buns for a whole month.

There were many good people in this world, and also many bad people.

He Ao sat on the small stool in front of his stall, looking at the [Martial Arts: Qi Induction (F-rank)] on his character panel, and began to replay the book 30 Days to Sword Immortal he had seen in the instance world in his mind.

That book might have some exaggerated claims and might not make him an immortal, but from the system's annotation, it seemed to belong to something called 'Martial Arts'.

After all, the two words 'Martial Arts' were followed by 'Qi Induction'. He Ao felt that the 'Qi' generated by using the Vermillion Fruit energy was the 'Qi' of Qi Induction.

However, despite being called Qi Induction, his body was now as empty as a rice jar that could starve a mouse. Let alone 'Qi', there wasn't even a trace of energy.

Was there any way to generate that energy? Was there a method for naturally generating energy in that little book?

Just as He Ao began to study the contents of the little book in his memory, which he could only barely understand from the pictures, with the text being like heavenly script.

A hurried footsteps suddenly came from the darkness, followed by a somewhat familiar voice, "Boss, a bowl of cold noodles."

He looked up and saw a familiar face – the young man who had almost torn down his house this afternoon.

The young man saw He Ao, froze for a moment, then turned and ran.

He Ao didn't move, because someone was faster than him. It was the man in the trench coat. He flashed past He Ao's stall like a beam of light, chasing after the young man.

"If you need anything, contact us."

His words were cold and calm, much smoother than his awkwardness when promoting the part-time job just now.

And accompanying these words, a white card with black text fell in front of He Ao. Yes, the cheapest kind on the market. It had a simple unit name written on it.

[China Folk Anomaly Research Institute (West Capital Branch)]