Chapter 8: The Greater the Storm, the Pricier the Fish

The next day, Sima slept in late, waking up just in time for lunch. The main dishes on the table were braised pork belly and braised silver carp head. Sima’s appetite was piqued, and he polished off three bowls of rice. Xia Ting watched him with a beaming smile, though Si Daoyan felt his son was overeating and likely to get indigestion; yet, in front of his wife, he dared not utter a single word.

Full and well-rested, Sima felt refreshed. After greeting his parents, he headed out under the pretense of seeing a movie. The sun was fierce and the heat sweltering, so Xia Ting found an ultraviolet-resistant parasol and insisted he take it. Sima found it unnecessary, but he took it downstairs, tucked it into their mailbox, looked up at the sky, and stepped into the scorching sunlight. Only children are truly consistent in thought, word, and deed; Sima had always upheld a "three-no" principle: no opposition, no argument, and no acceptance.

Going to the cinema was merely an excuse; Sima wanted to avoid people and spend half a day alone to quietly contemplate his future. Humans have a need for solitude—not merely being alone in a room, but being completely undisturbed. Si Daoyan and Xia Ting did not understand this; they cared for their son, and they frequently interrupted him.

Changzhou City was shrouded in brilliant sunshine. At two in the afternoon, the heat was at its peak, radiating from the ground and leaving one feeling greasy with sweat. Sima did not go far; he found a budget hotel nearby and booked a "day-use room" at the front desk. He showered to wash away the sweat, then boiled water for tea. The tea bags provided by the hotel were undrinkable, so he used the Pu-erh he had brought from home. A friend of Si Daoyan from Yunnan sent tea cakes every year, and Sima had asked his father for a few to break up and drink for fun.

The sent Pu-erh cakes were fermented, possessing an indescribable, peculiar odor. Sima knew the drill: he rinsed them quickly with boiling water twice, then brewed the tea at a lower temperature, resulting in a mellow and smooth flavor. He sat in the air-conditioned room, sipping the hot tea slowly. After a few infusions, his restless heart calmed. He took out paper and pen from the drawer, thinking as he wrote down several points.

Rule 1: The Gu worm and its host share a common fate; they prosper or perish together.
Rule 2: The Gu worm feeds on the host’s vital essence and blood; if these are insufficient, it will enter hibernation and slowly die.
Rule 3: The Gu worm nourishes the host in return, gradually improving the host's physique over time.
Rule 4: Once mature, the Gu worm grants the host special abilities, though using these abilities consumes additional, large amounts of vital essence and blood.
Rule 5: When a Gu worm consumes its own kind, there is a certain probability it will evolve into a superior grade, strengthening the host’s abilities.
...

These few lines were the result of lessons learned at the cost of blood and tears in his past life. While some might find them superficial, Sima did not. "Knowledge gained from books is shallow; one must practice to truly understand." He knew all too well that learning through experience is different from learning through instruction.

Reviewing the situation, the most crucial first step had gone perfectly. The Gu worm was successfully secured, buying him time and laying a foundation. This worm was called "Spirit-Link." Its grade was low, and its abilities were extremely limited—once mature, it could only sense other Gu worms within a certain range, and nothing more. Sima planned to feed the Spirit-Link well until he could find a more powerful "demon Gu" to replace it. He already had several candidates in mind, but the higher the stakes, the greater the reward; he was still indecisive about how to choose.

As the tea grew thin and tasteless, Sima read his notes several times before slowly tearing them up and flushing them down the toilet. Even with a decent hand, one must calculate carefully to play it well. The low grade and limited utility were the weaknesses of the Spirit-Link, but conversely, given his current situation, it was the only kind of Gu he could afford to sustain.

After tidying up, Sima felt drowsy. Hunger and sleepiness were signs of a deficiency in vital essence and blood. He remained calm, set an alarm, and fell into a deep sleep. He didn't wake up until after six. Checking his phone, he saw several missed calls from Xia Ting. He called back, telling his mother he had run into a classmate and was hanging out, so he might be home late. Xia Ting didn't suspect a thing; she was too tired to cook dinner anyway and fussed over him, telling him to eat well and not to save money on his own account.

Sima did not save money. He checked out, walked to the street, and found a Halal beef restaurant. He ordered braised beef, sliced beef strips, smashed cucumbers, and cold noodles in broth. He finished everything—not an overly excessive amount—and then ordered two pounds of soy-sauce beef to go. Still unsatisfied, he found a newly opened "Changbai Restaurant" specializing in Northeastern cuisine. He tried the garlic pork, steamed blood sausage, soy-sauce bone, and sauerkraut pork dumplings. Finding them delicious, he finished those as well and packed up the two pounds of soy-sauce beef.

In the evening, the heat subsided, and a light breeze brought a drizzle. Sima took a long walk to aid his digestion, watching the night markets, the street food stalls, the passersby, the square dancers, and young couples bickering. Hidden beneath the mundane bustle of life was another, unknown, dark world—a place of survival of the fittest, filled with hidden crises. Sima felt he wasn't ready yet and couldn't afford to show his hand or draw attention to himself. Yes, he was still eating too much; if someone in the know were watching, they might notice something amiss...

Back home, he put away the parasol, gave his parents a perfunctory excuse, and went to brush his teeth and shower. Before bed, a thought struck him: he could establish an "extreme eater" persona, make videos, and upload them to a website to earn some pocket money. But after a quick calculation, he realized the idea was too ahead of its time. Mobile signals were still 2G, dial-up internet was only 56Kbps, and sites like YouTube and Bilibili didn't even exist yet... Sima sighed. It would take at least ten years for the conditions to mature; by then, the opportunity would be long gone, and he would have been exposed anyway.

Lying in bed, Sima folded his hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling the rhythmic pulsing of the Gu worm. Regardless, he had secured enough chips to leave the ranks of ordinary people behind. For a long time to come, he had to be low-key, cautious, and "develop in the shadows" to survive his fragile novice phase. Changzhou was a small city, so the chance of encountering someone who knew the truth was slim, but Beizhi City would be different. He couldn't live in a dorm; he had to rent a place off-campus, get a big refrigerator, and cook for himself—that was the only way to keep prying eyes away... Though, considering the housing and living costs in Beizhi City, he wasn't very optimistic.

Raising a Gu worm, especially a high-grade one, was not something an ordinary person could afford. It was better to be prepared; earning more money was never a bad idea. Sima pondered and decided that the stock market was the most reliable path. At the very least, he remembered several "demon stocks" that were set to skyrocket. Using "demon stocks" to feed a "demon Gu"—it was a good omen and a sound strategy. The only problem was that he needed capital. All his New Year’s money combined amounted to only a few thousand yuan, and even if he multiplied that by ten in the market, it might not be enough. Should he ask the old man for some help?