Chapter 13

There were only a few numbered tickets left in Qian Jiafeng’s hand. As his stomach growled and he was about to ask Qian Jianing for something to eat, four people got off the bus at the Dongyi Street intersection. Seeing the long, winding queue, they ran over whining, “Oh no, oh no, we might not get any this time.”

Qian Jiafeng counted the tickets—there were exactly four left. As the group ran up to him, he hurriedly stuffed the tickets into their hands. “You guys made it just in time for the last four numbers. If anyone else comes, please let them know to arrive early tomorrow.”

The four took the tickets, thanked him breathlessly, and as soon as they caught their breath, sweat started pouring down their faces. A lady at the front of the line quickly fanned them with her paper fan. “You guys really got lucky, catching the last ride.”

With his sister’s task completed, Qian Jiafeng went into the yard, splashed his face with water at the tap, then slipped into the kitchen. “Sis, I’m starving.” Qian Jianing glanced back at him while handing a bowl of zhajiang noodles to a customer. “Do you want buns or noodles?”

When Qian Jiafeng came in earlier, he had seen his best friend from the west of the city, little Fatty, grabbing a bun in each hand and slurping up the juice—it made his mouth water. “I want buns. Give me lots.”

Qian Jianing grabbed a plate and placed ten buns on it, then shoved a pair of chopsticks into his hand. “Go find a place to eat.”

Carrying the plate of buns, Qian Jiafeng saw there was no room in the courtyard, so he headed outside the gate, found a small stool, and sat down. He picked up a bun and took a bite. Hot soup gushed out, splashing onto his hand. Ignoring the burn, he quickly bit into the bun, brought it to his mouth, and blew on it a little before greedily drinking the savory, rich broth. The steaming meat juice filled his mouth with flavor and left a lingering taste.

Before he knew it, the first bun was gone. As he reached for a second, he heard people nearby swallowing hard. He looked up, confused, and saw the people in line staring at his plate like hungry wolves, their eyes gleaming green. Startled, he shuffled two steps away.

“Hey kid, what are you doing retreating so far?” a young man shouted. “What are you eating?”

“Soup dumplings,” Qian Jiafeng replied. Although the crowd staring at him was intimidating, the bun he’d just eaten was so delicious that he was sure he could keep eating even if a dozen more people stared.

He bit into another, letting the rich aroma spread once again. Around him, the sound of people swallowing rose again. Even some neighbors, who had initially come out just to watch the fun, couldn’t resist the smell anymore. Familiar with Qian Jiafeng, they started walking over. “Jiafeng, are these the buns your sister made?”

Auntie Wang spoke as she ogled the snow-white, translucent buns on his plate. With Qian Jiafeng’s movements, she could faintly see the soup sloshing inside. “Smells incredible.”

Qian Jiafeng stepped back warily, feeling like the auntie was ready to snatch his buns.

Seeing his guarded expression, Auntie Wang blushed. “You stingy little brat, acting like I’d eat your buns for free.” She stood up, glanced at the still long queue, and pulled twenty cents from her pocket. She handed it to Qian Jiafeng. “Go buy me two.”

Qian Jiafeng looked at her in disbelief. “Auntie Wang, there are no more numbers left today. If you want buns, you’ll have to line up early tomorrow. Plus, my sister sells the buns by the steamer—ten per steamer, three yuan total.”

“What? Three yuan?” Auntie Wang exploded. “That’s robbery! Outrageous!”

Having recently helped his sister with the business, Qian Jiafeng was now savvy about prices. “Auntie, pork is already two yuan a pound. Thirty cents per soup dumpling really isn’t expensive. You have no idea how much effort my sister puts into making them.”

Auntie Wang’s eyebrows shot up, and she pointed angrily at Old Zhao, who hadn’t sold half of his buns all morning. “Your Uncle Zhao’s pork and cabbage buns are just ten cents each and twice the size of yours.”

Qian Jiafeng showed her the whole shrimp inside one of his buns. “My sister puts in whole shrimp. The big shrimp she bought yesterday were all fresh and super pricey.” He raised his brow and glanced at Old Zhao, scoffing. “Old Zhao’s buns may be cheap, but look—any takers?”

Old Zhao was hawking his buns nearby, but choked on Qian Jiafeng’s words. He glanced at the crowd willing to stand in line for hours just to avoid buying his buns, and his expression darkened as he walked toward Qian Jiafeng. Seeing Old Zhao looming right in front of him just as he reached for another bun, Qian Jiafeng recoiled. “What… what are you doing, Uncle Zhao? Don’t tell me you’re going to beat me up out of desperation.”

“You little brat, don’t misuse phrases. I’m not desperate!” With two quick steps, Old Zhao snatched a soup bun from the plate and popped it into his mouth. The moment he bit down, the juicy filling exploded in his mouth, releasing a burst of delicious aroma. As he savored the taste, a defeated look crossed his face. He pulled fifty cents from his pocket, shoved it into Qian Jiafeng’s hand, and turned away to start packing up his stall.

His actions left the crowd stunned. “Hey, Old Zhao, shutting down already?”

“What’s the point?” Old Zhao forced a smile. “My buns aren’t even a tenth as good. How could I still have the face to stay here?” He sighed and looked at the people still lining up, fanning themselves. “Now I get why they’re willing to wait hours for Xiaomi’s buns. If it were me, I’d wait too—this taste, I’d remember it for life.”

****

From getting up at five, Qian Jianing had been busy non-stop until 9:30. After the last customer had eaten, she finally let out a sigh and sat on a stool, grinning ear to ear at the cash box full of money.

“Qian Xiaomi, do you know how much you made?” Treasure Bowl’s voice inside her mind was even more excited than she was. Before she could answer, he blurted it out. “Four hundred ninety-eight yuan! Don’t worry, I’m a generous Treasure Bowl. I’ll record it as 1,000 units of virtual currency for you.”

Qian Jianing neatly stacked the money, bound it with a strap, and tucked it into her schoolbag. Glancing at the kitchen sink full of dishes, she started buttering up Treasure Bowl. “Hey, Tiny Pot, you immortals aren’t bound by time and space, right? Like when Food Elder was giving me lessons, he could still play online games with a phone. So you must know quite a bit about future stuff too?”

“Of course!” Treasure Bowl, now in the form of a chubby little doll, lounged lazily in her consciousness. His pudgy little feet kicked in the air as he watched Peppa Pig on an iPad, giggling from time to time.

Hearing the iPad’s audio, Qian Jianing beamed. “Treasure Bowl, have you ever read a novel?” He turned his head to look at the little version of Qian Jianing within her mind. “Nope. Have you?”

Her smile nearly cracked. She took a deep breath and replied calmly, “No time for novels in my past life—I was too busy trying to make money. But I heard from some younger coworkers that system novels were super popular.”

“System novels…” A flashing look crossed Treasure Bowl’s large eyes, and he nervously covered the pocket on his belly wrap. “Are you trying to trick me into giving you money?”

Qian Jianing’s smile widened. “Didn’t you say you’ve never read a novel?”

“But I’ve heard about them. God of Wealth’s maid, Jin Bao, loved reading novels. I heard her talk about them all the time in the Immortal Realm.” Treasure Bowl grew visibly conflicted as he recalled his time there. Should he sprinkle a few treasures to help Qian Jianing? Or keep his pouch tight and not let her get any freebies?

Watching Treasure Bowl’s furrowed brow and mumbled inner debate, Qian Jianing cleared her throat and asked curiously, “Food Elder said you had to return for some birthday banquet—is that right?”

“Fine! Fine!” Treasure Bowl pouted his shiny lips. “Everyone just has to poke at my sore spot.” He looked at Qian Jianing with his dark, round eyes, clearly unhappy. “Stop calling me Tiny Pot. That name sounds terrible. If you call me Baby Bao, maybe I’ll respond.”

Qian Jianing pressed her hands together and bowed to him. “Baby Bao, please, I’m counting on you!”

Treasure Bowl waved his chubby hand, and a spinning wheel materialized in front of her, full of various rewards. Worried that obviously helping might give God of Wealth leverage against him, he had to come up with a justification. “With your shop’s grand opening successfully launching your wealth accumulation, you’ve earned one lottery spin.”

Qian Jianing’s eyes fell upon an item labeled ‘Immortal Talisman’. Her palms began to sweat. “Is that a Life Extension Talisman?”

“Of course not! Life Extension Talismans are super expensive,” Treasure Bowl bristled. It was Qian Jianing’s entire motivation for working hard—how could he possibly let her get it so easily? There were still five years before the Qian family’s fated calamity. Unless she had earned enough by then, he wouldn’t even consider putting it into the spin. He knew if tragedy befell her family, she’d go dark and he’d never return to the heavens.

Since there was no Life Extension Talisman, the other rewards didn’t make a huge difference to Qian Jianing. She took a deep breath and gave the wheel a hard spin. It rotated swiftly, then gradually slowed, finally stopping on “Set of Immortal Kitchen Equipment.”

Qian Jianing smiled faintly. Treasure Bowl really could read her mind.