Section 13: As Much as It Should Be

Though called an "acquaintance," Sima had only encountered him twice in this lifetime. The first time was on the sixth floor of Building 3 at the Crowne Plaza Hotel, where Sima caught a glimpse of a tall, lean figure hurrying away through the peephole. The second time was in an alley at the entrance of Qixia Town, where several plainclothes officers were in hot pursuit. The man slipped a “worm egg” into a crack in the wall, unwittingly giving Sima an advantage.

The man’s nickname was “Sang Biao,” a middleman operating in the shadows, dealing in the trafficking of “demonic gu”—parasitic creatures used for illicit purposes—profiting handsomely from their sale. This line of work was like licking blood off a blade—perilous. Two rules were paramount: first, one had to be tough and resilient, for without strength, one risks being devoured by rivals with no recourse; second, maintaining one’s reputation was vital. A crooked reputation might yield short-term gains but would doom long-term success. In his previous life, Sima had dealings with Sang Biao, even becoming his client at one point. Beyond trading in demonic gu, he had learned much from Sang Biao about the underworld, gaining a clear understanding and growing rapidly. From their interactions, Sima sensed that Sang Biao was a peripheral agent of the authorities—paid workers who earned stipends rather than lone wolves.

Should he pay his respects to Sang Biao’s faction early on? Sima hesitated briefly but quickly dismissed the idea. Having stolen Sang Biao’s “Spirit-Connecting Gu,” his situation was delicate; it was not yet time to reveal himself. He would wait a few years before seeking another opportunity to make contact.

Sang Biao’s visit to “One Bowl Inn” was not a covert meeting—he was genuinely there to eat noodles. He ordered three bowls of fried sauce noodles, accompanied by raw garlic, and devoured them with gusto, sweat beading his brow. The sauce was somewhat salty, and Sang Biao, feeling parched, ordered a bottle of beer, gulping it down in one breath and letting out a loud, satisfied burp. His hearty appetite and thirst drew cheers from nearby men of all ages. Sang Biao flashed a grin, clasped his fists in thanks, settled the bill, and left without ever noticing Sima.

Relieved, Sima relaxed his tense shoulders. The gu insects inside him normally lay dormant beneath the skin, undetectable except for a few rare species. Otherwise, the weak gu would stand no chance of survival. Though the “Spirit-Connecting Gu” was low-rank and lacked combat power, it was Sima’s best choice. It could alert him to danger and help him accumulate resources to survive the perilous novice period.

Wang Husong, having eaten the fried sauce noodles, felt thirsty and nudged Sima, whispering, “Can we drink beer too?”

Sima smiled and called over the waiter for two bottles of cold beer. They clinked bottles and drank while waiting for the two girls. Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe had small appetites and stopped after half a bowl, steering clear of offal dishes like chitterlings and fried tripe, not even touching them. Wang Husong was no heavy drinker and quickly felt the effects of the beer, slurring his words: “People from Beizhi sure love their offal—fried tripe, fried liver, stewed innards, soups with mixed bits, fried sausages—all favorites…”

Sima explained, “Those are the foods of the poor back in the old days. Meat was too expensive, so offal was cheap and became popular street food. Outsiders often can’t stomach it. Fried tripe has little flavor and tastes odd with sesame sauce. Sausages don’t even use real intestines anymore. When we have time, we should try the stewed innards and the simmered stomach.”

Lu Yuan frowned slightly, finding their tastes too strong; the smell of offal was enough to repel her. Though the conversation was casual, she sensed Sima was distracted. Was he tired? That seemed unlikely. He had something on his mind. Shen Yihe joined in, mentioning a Japanese documentary she had seen, where German farmers used every part of a pig: offal made into various sausages, some parts serving as casings, others minced as filling, even pig’s blood was fully utilized. Wang Husong’s eyes lit up, saying he had seen that too—a series called “Food Is the People’s Heaven,” and the episode was titled “Not a Drop of Blood Wasted.”

The four left “One Bowl Inn.” Wang Husong was excitedly chatting with Shen Yihe about documentaries, while Lu Yuan smiled quietly. Sima listened more than he spoke, letting Wang Husong take the spotlight. Shen Yihe, open and straightforward, laughed and chatted freely with Wang Husong. Lu Yuan worried this might cause misunderstandings and tugged gently on her sleeve. Shen Yihe glanced back, blinking, seemingly unaware of any impropriety.

By the time they returned to the guesthouse, it was 8:30 p.m. Lin Zixuan asked Sima where he had been and for recommendations. Sima said he had visited the Lu Xun Museum and eaten fried sauce noodles at “One Bowl Inn” in the evening—the noodles were good, though the sauce was a bit salty. Lin Zixuan recommended Haizi Park, formerly an imperial garden. He said he planned to visit the Western Hills tomorrow and asked if Sima was interested. Sima said he’d check with the others and confirm later.

After returning to his room, Wang Husong took a refreshing shower, then lounged bare-chested in boxer shorts, gulping down two glasses of cold water, still buzzing with excitement. His roommate, Xu Chang, chatted with him briefly, expressing envy upon learning that Wang Husong had gone out with Sima, Lu Yuan, and Shen Yihe. Lin Zixuan had been uncooperative, disappearing with Ding Jiayin and Du Xiaojing. The three remaining boys wandered aimlessly like headless flies, eventually strolling through Dingzi Street with little to do but eat and drink, finding it dull.

Xu Chang asked Wang Husong where he was going tomorrow and if he could tag along. Riding his buzz, Wang Husong called Sima. Sima said they planned to leave at 9:30 a.m., first visiting the botanical gardens, then deciding in the afternoon whether to go to Yungai Temple if time allowed. Wang Husong relayed Xu Chang’s request, and Sima welcomed him but warned that there might be showers, so to bring umbrellas.

Beizhi City had many attractions—too many to cover in a week. Naturally, everyone grouped themselves: Lin Zixuan with Ding Jiayin and Du Xiaojing; Sima with Lu Yuan and Shen Yihe; Song Youyi with Sun Yongquan; Wang Husong seemed interested in Shen Yihe, shamelessly cozying up beside her; and Xu Chang, lively and adaptable, sometimes with Song Youyi and Sun Yongquan, other times joining Sima’s group. All were classmates, freely mixing and mingling without conflict, enjoying themselves and growing closer.

Time flew swiftly. As the university registration day approached, on their last night at the Furen Guesthouse, Lin Zixuan, Sima, and Song Youyi gathered to settle expenses. They agreed on splitting costs evenly. Train tickets and accommodation were the largest expenses, but Lu Yu, having backed out last minute, offered to cover those costs himself as an apology. The remaining fees for tickets and meals would be paid individually. After discussion, they decided against one person covering everything, opting instead for a neat division with each bearing any fractional amounts themselves.

Early the next morning, everyone said their goodbyes, dragging their suitcases as they headed toward the university, ready to begin a new chapter in life.