[Central Land Abnormal Human Research Institute (West Capital Branch)] [Address: 36 Tongzi Street, Anping District, West Capital City] [Researcher Zhang Anxia's phone number: 136****8792]
The business card was made of the most ordinary coated paper, black text on a white background, with no lamination. This kind of card was the cheapest; online, he could get a thousand for 20.80, with free shipping.
However, this kind of card could actually be designed by yourself before sending the file off for printing. The business cards He Ao used now were this kind, but the layout looked much better.
The layout had been designed by a Little Girl studying art whom he had once saved in high school. After she designed it, he no longer asked her to treat him to a meal.
He Ao had always done things this way: debts had to be collected, and kindness had to be repaid.
Still, why did the address "36 Tongzi Street, Anping District, West Capital City" sound somewhat familiar?
He Ao took out his phone and searched for the address.
Then he fell silent for a moment.
Because the detailed location displayed on the map app was clearly labeled, "West Capital City Third Mental Hospital."
He should have realized it sooner. The Abnormal Human Research Institute was a Mental Hospital.
He had originally thought it was some sort of organization for superhumans.
Well, if ordinary people counted as normal humans, then superhumans seemed to be abnormal humans? Mental patients were also abnormal humans? So superhumans and mental patients were actually the same?
I went insane, and I got stronger too?
Damn, why did that logic somehow make sense?
According to the usual rules, the stranger an organization's name was, the stronger it tended to be. So He Ao put away the business card and entered Zhang Anxia's number into his phone.
He set it as the emergency speed-dial number two.
Number one was Team Leader Liu.
Whenever He Ao encountered danger, his first reaction was usually to call the police—to call Team Leader Liu and summon backup. So having a speed dial was very important.
Abiding by the law was, in truth, a kind of equal exchange. He Ao gave up some of his freedom and authority in exchange for the state's protection.
Since he had fulfilled his obligations, he naturally had to exercise his rights. Thus, He Ao was extremely practiced at calling in backup.
Of course, Team Leader Liu was reliable every time, and He Ao never disturbed him when there was nothing wrong.
For the same reason, he did not go after the Youth. Once he had called the police, responsibility for the matter had already shifted to the authorities. The authorities were obligated to capture vicious criminals like them and maintain social order.
If he spent more time investigating and pursuing them himself, then first, he would have no time to run his stall and would lose an important source of income. Second, his studies would be affected. Most importantly, for bad guys without a direct bounty posted on them, it was difficult to get money even through an act of courage. The expected return was too low.
He had suffered from that before.
So continuing to invest energy into this matter would only expand his losses, while offering low expected returns and high risk.
Leave professional matters to professionals. He was just a student who sold cold noodles.
Nothing unexpected happened over the next while, but He Ao became busy because the day-shift workers had gotten off work.
The factory ran three shifts. When the night-shift workers started work, the day-shift workers got off—that was the last wave of customers for He Ao that night.
His cold noodles were cheap and tasted good, so they were very popular with the nearby workers.
People during this time were generally exhausted and ate a lot, so he sold far more large bowls than small ones.
He kept busy until midnight, then packed up his stall and slowly rode his little three-wheeled snack cart home.
It was not that there was no business after midnight, only that there was less. Besides, He Ao usually still had school the next day, so he had gradually formed the habit of closing up at midnight.
The nearby workers also knew when He Ao closed his stall, so they would not come this way after midnight.
"Little Ao, you're back?"
The noodle stall downstairs in the residential complex was still lit up. An old man with white hair sat there, the incandescent bulb hanging from a pole illuminating the Youth's path through the night.
Steam billowed from the boiling soup pot, casting light over the old man's kindly face.
Ever since He Ao could remember, Grandpa Fang had always looked this old. He was only older now.
"Mm-hm." He Ao pushed his snack cart downstairs and locked it up, cleared away the unused ingredients, then took out his phone. He scanned the old man's payment code and transferred 350 yuan. "Grandpa Fang, I've transferred the money for today's cold noodles and cold rice noodles."
He Ao was in school most of the day and simply had no time to process ingredients. Thus, he bought most of his prepared cold noodles and cold rice noodles from Grandpa Fang.
Grandpa Fang's noodles were all fresh noodles, and they were processed very well—chewy and springy. They were perfect for making cold noodles, though they did not keep for long.
At first, Grandpa Fang had not intended to take his money, but he could not out-argue He Ao. In the end, He Ao paid roughly one and a half times the market price.
He Ao was not doing charity. Every cent he spent was carefully calculated. But when he had been very young, when he could not afford food, Grandpa Fang had lost to him at chess every day, with a bowl of noodles as the wager.
He remembered every bit of kindness people showed him.
"Good child, hurry home and sleep. You still have class tomorrow."
Grandpa Fang stirred the noodle soup with his chopsticks as he smiled and reminded him.
"Grandpa Fang, tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have class."
He Ao locked all the cabinets, dusted off his hands, and replied.
"No class on Saturday? Don't you have make-up lessons on Saturdays anymore?"
Grandpa Fang was clearly a little confused.
"I'm in university now. No more make-up lessons."
Knowing that Grandpa Fang's hearing was not very good, He Ao deliberately moved closer and spoke loudly. "Grandpa Fang, I'm heading back."
"Alright~"
Grandpa Fang answered, watching He Ao disappear into the stairwell. Then he lowered his head and continued stirring the noodle soup. "All grown up. Growing up is good."
In a city after nightfall, the lights often shone through the entire night, and countless people reveled beneath dazzling neon until dawn.
He Ao did not sleep that night either.
He spent the entire night studying that little book.
But the diagrams in the book only showed how to guide energy through the body. The key problem was that he did not have any energy in his body right now!
It was like a cookbook teaching someone how to make fragrant, steaming rice with rice—how much rice to use, how much water to add, how long to cook it, when to use high heat, and when to simmer it over low heat.
The instructions were extremely detailed, and the resulting rice would clearly be delicious.
So here was the question.
Where was the rice?!
Where was my rice?
I don't have any rice!
After struggling futilely all night, He Ao realized that the Vermillion Fruit incident had only been a coincidence. If he wanted to truly cultivate this thing, he would probably need to find a translator to translate the text in the little book and figure out how energy was generated in the first place.
Sometimes, people really should not be too confident.
He Ao stretched and walked step by step onto the balcony.
At that moment, the morning sun was rising, its dawnlight spilling across the gray-white earth and over He Ao's cheeks.
The air in the morning was the freshest of the day. He Ao took a deep breath.
And at that moment, a faint trace of energy appeared within his chest.
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