After returning the heavy truck and retrieving his motorcycle, Bai Yang headed back to the villa he was renting. But halfway there, he stopped, gazing up at the blue sky and white clouds as he thought hard. It seemed he'd forgotten something.
"Right, I forgot to bring Dad some wine. He was probably so distracted by all that lumber that he forgot, too. I'll take some home next time..."
Once he'd figured that out, he stopped fretting and raced back to the villa. He didn't hurry over to "the other side," though. Instead, he went to the bedroom and hauled the Black Clay Jar of Emerald Wine out from under the bed.
"Is this stuff really as good as the tests said? It's highly nourishing, improves your constitution, and has all sorts of benefits—but you have to exercise more to absorb it. And that's exhausting..."
Bai Yang was torn. He wanted to drink the wine and build up his body, but he was afraid of getting tired. Besides, if he drank it without exercising, all that nourishment would turn him into a big fatso...!
People were all like that. They wanted to be healthy but were too afraid of getting tired to exercise. Where in the world could you find something that convenient?
After agonizing over it for a while, he gritted his teeth and stamped his foot. So what if it was tiring? He'd survived the college entrance exams once. Surely a little exercise wouldn't kill him.
He went to the bathroom, found a rinsing cup, and poured out a tiny bit from the jar. There were no measuring marks, so he had no idea how much thirty milliliters was. To be safe, he poured himself just one mouthful.
The wine's aroma was intoxicating. He downed it in one gulp, and the moment it touched his tongue, he shuddered. It was as if every pore in his body were breathing. He felt wonderfully refreshed.
When it came to wine, Bai Yang was a complete ignoramus. He couldn't tell good wine from bad. His most heartfelt review consisted of just two words:
"Delicious~!"
"It's fruit wine, and the alcohol content is probably about the same as beer, but it's seriously delicious. I'd guess it tastes ten thousand times better than those so-called cocktails. No wonder Mom and Dad both asked me for some. One sip of this stuff and you're hooked!"
He closed his eyes and savored the aftertaste. It was as if a cool current had been poured into him, and his whole body was about to float away.
Then Bai Yang started to feel that something was wrong. Gradually, heat began to spread through his body. It wasn't a fierce, burning heat, but a kind of warmth rising from within. The most obvious sign was that he'd gotten hard, and he felt like he was about to get a nosebleed...
Not wanting to turn into a big fatso, Bai Yang—his whole body flushed with heat—dropped the cup and hurried outside. He sprinted along the roads in the villa neighborhood, letting off steam. Even after he'd run himself into a sweat and his whole body ached, he still felt full of energy. He couldn't help thinking he could take down a bull with his bare hands...
"I really can't run anymore..."
He collapsed onto the lawn, panting. After resting for a while, he still felt full of energy, so he got up and ran again. He collapsed from exhaustion, got up, and ran again. After repeating this several times, he was finally completely spent.
Dragging his exhausted body back, he was suddenly stopped by an old man who appeared out of nowhere!
"Sir, what do you want? I'm really tired right now. If you're trying to fake an accident and extort me, wait until I've rested first..."
Bai Yang gave him a look and spoke without much energy.
The old man wasn't tall, maybe five-foot-seven at most. He was lean, but stood ramrod straight. His snow-white hair was combed back, and his ruddy complexion made his age hard to guess. He wore a sleeveless undershirt, loose trousers, and cloth shoes. By every appearance, he was some kind of master.
But after Bai Yang's sharp-tongued remark, the old man nearly kicked him. What made him look like someone who faked accidents for money?
Suppressing the urge to spit blood, the old man looked at Bai Yang and smiled kindly. "Young man, don't be in such a hurry. You seem rather unusual to me..."
Before the old man could finish, Bai Yang raised a hand to stop him. He felt around, took out a ten-yuan bill, and held it out. "Sir, I know my bones are extraordinary. Take the ten yuan, but you can keep your manual. Leave the task of maintaining world peace to Spider-Man, Iron Man, Batman, Green Lantern, The Green Hornet, and all the other heroes. Goodbye!"
The old man clenched his teeth, then took a deep breath. Still, he didn't lower the arm blocking Bai Yang's way. He slowly exhaled, maintaining his dignified bearing. "Young man, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not a scammer..."
"Come on, sir. How could you possibly be a scammer? I think people in your line of work are actors who put their lives on the line for the performance..."
Bai Yang's words came pouring out, but the old man's eyes suddenly widened. Bai Yang was instantly struck dumb, the words stuck in his throat. It felt just like the first time he'd encountered the Barbarians on the other side—not long ago, when they'd pointed their icy arrows at him.
"Listen to me first," the old man said, his manner turning kind again.
Bai Yang swallowed instinctively. He felt a chill run through his body and nodded stiffly. "Go ahead, go ahead. I'm listening."
"I mean you no harm. I just want to take your pulse."
As he spoke, the old man naturally reached out and took Bai Yang's wrist. His eyes narrowed as he fell into thought.
Whether Bai Yang was intimidated by the old man's gaze or something else, he had no idea how his arm had ended up in the old man's grasp...
"Strange, strange..."
A minute later, the old man released Bai Yang's arm, frowned, and shook his head. Then he wandered off, muttering to himself.
Bai Yang: "..."
What was that all about? He stood there for several minutes, completely baffled by the old man's intentions. Only after the old man had disappeared from sight did Bai Yang come to his senses. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Could he be one of those legendary masters who keep a low profile among ordinary people? His moves were so fast and precise—he grabbed my wrist in an instant. His hands were as strong as iron hooks. Where did that old monster come from?"
More importantly, why had he stopped Bai Yang out of nowhere just to take his pulse?
He couldn't figure it out!
He returned to the villa with his head full of questions. After taking a thoroughly refreshing cold shower, Bai Yang felt great, and all his worries vanished. As for the old man, he kept him in the back of his mind. He had a feeling they would meet again.
To thank the villagers on "the other side" for building his house, Bai Yang made a special trip to the supermarket and bought a hundred packets of salt. He snipped open all the packaging, poured them into a plastic bucket, and carried it over there...
The reason he'd brought salt was that Bai Yang had seen the girl grilling meat with a lump of brown salt. She'd crushed it and rubbed it onto the meat...
That was unacceptable!
In the villa neighborhood where Bai Yang was renting, the white-haired old man who had stopped him arrived at a villa covering a full three thousand square meters. His brow was still furrowed, his expression puzzled.
Beneath a pavilion in the villa, a white-haired old man sat at a stone table and brewed tea with fluid, graceful movements. Wearing a Tang suit, he made every motion seem to evoke an ancient elegance.
When the white-haired old man entered the pavilion, the tea-brewing old man didn't even look up. "Well? After all these years, did you come here just to give me the cold shoulder?"
The white-haired old man glanced at him. "I can't believe that after all these years, you've turned from the decisive man you once were into such a slow, mild old fellow. Aren't you disgusted with yourself?"
"Back then, I had no choice but to be decisive. The political arena is a battlefield—stand still and you fall behind. Now that I've retired, am I not allowed to work on my temperament? Just look at me, just look. My temper was so foul back then that even the younger generation in my family won't come visit me for the holidays," the tea-brewing old man said irritably.
The white-haired old man shook his head without a word.
"I never thought I'd see the day you looked troubled," the tea-brewing old man said, stopping to ask in surprise. In his memory, the white-haired old man had always seemed unperturbed, no matter what happened.
"I ran into a young man just now. From a distance, I could see that he was full of vitality. Curious, I stopped him and wanted to take his pulse. But he thought I was trying to fake an accident and extort him..."
"Ha ha ha! You? Faking an accident? That's hilarious..."
The tea-brewing old man laughed for a while. Seeing the other man's calm expression, he soon lost interest and continued, "Is that why you look so troubled?"
"Of course not. After I took his pulse, I found that the young man's vitality was astonishingly vigorous, even though he clearly seemed to get little exercise. It's truly baffling," the white-haired old man said, unable to make sense of it.
"I thought it was something serious. You've been brooding over this all this time?"
"No. I was wondering how to ask you for a favor..."
"..."
The tea-brewing old man looked speechless. "What do you want me to help you with?"
"I happened to learn that a very unusual kind of wine has appeared in this area. I want you to help me find out where it came from..."
(Still agonizing over this one. It took nearly six hours to write this chapter...)
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