Geisteswissenschaftliche Fakultät

Kapitel 31

The argument between the police and a group of monsters or devils has somehow escalated to a point that is completely incomprehensible to everyone.

"Fine, you want to talk about the law? Fine, I'll talk about the law with you. But if you want to arrest us, then produce some evidence!"

"I'm gathering evidence, you just wait! Until I gather the evidence, you all better watch out and don't lure anyone in."

"What do you mean by temptation? Those people all came of their own accord!"

"You're being unreasonable, aren't you? Then I'll shut down the gates between the Pomeranian community and the human world."

"Do you think you're the only one who can control the wedge door? We've already built other doors."

"Oh dear, what on earth is going on?" Zhou Yi, the oldest among them, rubbed his forehead and complained in pain.

"Forget about them, let's drink." For once, Mingdu clinked glasses with Zhou Yi.

"Hey, why don't you hate me today?"

"This only applies to today; I'm in a good mood today."

"Hmm, because a fight didn't break out?"

"Yes, because no fight broke out..."

Meanwhile, the police officer continued arguing with his debaters, their voices echoing through the night...

Side Story

High Mountains and Flowing Water

Youyang still remembers the day she first met Shi Luo.

It was a clear, sunny afternoon in the fifteenth year of Emperor Huizong's reign in the Northern Song Dynasty. The air was filled with the dry scent of grass. Pomegranate blossoms, as red as a maid's rosy cheeks, hung heavily on the bent branches, seemingly ready to fall at any moment. They sang to the young master beneath the vines in the back garden. The young master sat on the cool stone steps, his thick black hair wrapped in a blue cloth, his eyes bright and clear. In the tranquil afternoon, a vibrant green languidly rolled about everywhere. The cicadas sang and stopped, stopped and sang again. The young master thought wistfully, "If only this moment could last forever!"

However, a sudden commotion broke out outside the wall. Ah Xing, the gatekeeper, could be heard hushed tones ordering someone to leave, followed by a chaotic clamor, as if the servants had used force against the uninvited guests. Youyang didn't stop singing. Without the young master's orders, even if it meant singing for hours, days, or even forever until her death, she wouldn't have any complaints, because the young master was different from everyone else!

Youyang stole a glance at that young and handsome face. The young master's skin was fair but did not give people a sense of fragility. Beneath his long, sword-like eyebrows were a pair of bright, clear eyes. Youyang liked those eyes the most. Whenever she heard his singing, those eyes would always become gentle and affectionate, but Youyang knew that the young master's affection was not for her.

Young Master likes Youyang, Youyang knows that; but Young Master loves another woman, a woman named Qing'e! Every time Youyang thinks of this, she feels a piercing pain in her heart, her chest so tight she can barely breathe. Youyang hates that version of herself. Plays say love should be the most beautiful thing, pure, clean, and selfless, but Youyang can't do that! When Young Master looks at Qing'e, Youyang feels so miserable, so miserable that even the most beautiful voice sounds dry and ugly!

The commotion outside grew so loud that even the young master frowned. Then, the side gate to the back garden was rudely pushed open by someone. Youyang saw Ah Zhong stumble in, followed by Ah Fu, Ah Zhong, and the servants, who lined up and entered—or rather, were thrown into the garden—in extremely undignified manners. Behind them stood a burly man, wearing a dark blue cloth robe draped diagonally, revealing half of his solid chest. On his back was a gleaming nine-ringed broadsword, its cold blade flashing in the daylight, exuding a menacing aura!

Youyang should have screamed in fright, but strangely, she didn't. In fact, her heart was as calm as an autumn lake, with a slight, comforting feeling. Behind the burly man, she saw him. Whether he was a Jurchen or a Liao man, the tall, imposing man wore a rugged, dark blue robe of a foreign tribe. His long, dark hair, tinged with gold, reached his waist, and the dappled sunlight cast dazzling golden shadows on his hair. His features were gentle yet not effeminate, and a faint smile played on his thin lips. Leading a handsome black horse, he calmly stepped into the house, completely ignoring the servants' panicked attempts to stop him.

"And who are you...?" The young master stood up warily and asked, beckoning Ah Xing to take Youyang away.

"Like you, sir, I am a lover of music. I happened to hear some beautiful music while riding through the alley, and thus I took the liberty of coming to pay my respects. Please forgive me if I offend you." The man's voice was deep and cold, like the sound of water dripping from stalactites in a deep cave. As he spoke, he gave a slight bow, and his silky hair brushed past his shoulder like a fleeting shadow.

For a moment, Youyang was stunned. The man looked up, and his golden eyes locked onto her. Something flickered in those clear, cold eyes. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. The sounds of cicadas, the groans of the servants, and the blooming of flowers filled the air. A strange, ambiguous atmosphere permeated the shady undergrowth of the evergreen trellis. Youyang suddenly felt weak all over, her lips dry and her tongue parched, unable to move.

"Ah Xing, take Youyang down with you."

A stern voice broke the tense silence. Youyang, as if licked by a tongue of fire, hastily averted her gaze, her unsuspecting eyes meeting the young master's slightly annoyed eyes. He was angry, yes, the young master was angry. In Youyang's heart, joy blossomed instantly, even though she knew the reason for the young master's anger had nothing to do with love. Still, a faint flame was lit in her young heart, the flickering candlelight repeatedly murmuring, "Young master loves you, young master loves you..."

She obediently let Ah Xing lead her away, even as they passed through the flower corridor, she could still feel the two intense gazes fixed on her.

The young master and the man named Shi Luo quickly became good friends. Shi Luo, who claimed to be a Uyghur, was well-versed in Chinese culture, especially in music. For the music-loving young master, this was undoubtedly someone worth investing his heart and soul in. They spent their days playing music, drinking, composing poems, admiring lotus blossoms under the moon, and dancing among the flowers. Whenever the young master and Shi Luo were feasting, Youyang was often called upon to sing for them. At these times, Shi Luo would look at Youyang with his dark brown eyes, half-jokingly and half-seriously. The deep meaning in his eyes seemed to touch the deepest part of Youyang's heart, making her tremble all over. Until one day, the young master and Shi Luo had an argument, and Shi Luo decided to leave.

“Come with me. You can’t stay here any longer.” Shi Luo bent down and lifted her elegant chin. “I will take you to a more suitable place.”

Bright eyes were fixed on Youyang's face. For a moment, Youyang almost nodded in agreement, but she finally came to her senses, awkwardly breaking free from his hand, and shouted with all her might, "I won't leave! I won't leave you, young master! Absolutely, absolutely not!"

"There's no future for you two." Shi Luo straightened up without taking offense, his tall figure in the moonlight like a sculpted god. "Whenever you regret it, remember to come find me." He smiled slightly, turned and left, leaving Youyang feeling lost and confused for some reason.

The young master has changed!

Youyang couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed about the young master, but he was definitely different from before. He secluded himself in his study more often, ignoring everything else, no longer reading or writing poetry. Aside from his regular meals, all he did was listen to Youyang's singing. While Youyang should be happy to be with the young master every day, the clear, gentle eyes of the past were gone. What Youyang saw was a young master who was sometimes mad, sometimes dejected. People in the city were gossiping that the young master of the Wang family in the Ministry of Rites had developed hysteria and gone insane. Youyang wanted to tell them that the young master wasn't insane; he was simply more absorbed in rhythm than before, to the point that sometimes even Youyang felt a little afraid.

Everything erupted on the day the young master resolutely refused the marriage to Han Qing'e, the daughter of the physician. Youyang couldn't understand how the young master, who loved Qing'e so much, could refuse this marriage. He even smashed the token of love given to him by the woman; the white jade pendant bounced weakly on the ground and shattered, fragile yet resolute. Youyang seemed to see the beautiful face of Miss Qing'e instantly die, but a shameful joy spread through her heart. In this way, the young master would belong only to her; in this way, only she could be with him forever. This… was wonderful!

Half a month later, the young master left the Minister's mansion alone, without any travel expenses or servants, accompanied only by Youyang. Youyang could never fathom what the young master was thinking. Sometimes he would stand blankly in the market, watching the people come and go, and a whole day would pass by; other times he would run wildly in the rain, roaring at the sky. The once upright and clean man was now covered in dirt and dressed in rags. Only when he was almost starving would he ask Youyang to sing a few songs in the market to earn some money to eat. Even if people called him a beggar, even if they looked down on him, Youyang was still happy. In her eyes, the young master would always be the young master. Whether he was poor or rich, crazy or normal, in Youyang's heart, as long as she could be with the young master, she didn't care about anything else.

There would also be times when the night was deep and quiet, when they would huddle together in the dilapidated temple to rest. The young master would stroke Youyang's soft black hair with infinite affection and say in a deep voice, "Youyang, Youyang, I'm sorry. I've dragged you down with me."

Youyang wanted to say it was alright, that she would rather suffer with him than leave him, but she didn't know if the young master had heard her, because he had fallen asleep wearily against the desk. In the moonlight, his still handsome face couldn't hide the marks of years of hardship; deep lines were etched into his once smooth skin, as if carved by a knife. Youyang reached out, her heart aching as she wanted to smooth out those twisted wrinkles. Her young master, now truly belonged only to her, sleeping beside her, within reach. Had heaven not been kind enough to her? Shouldn't she feel happy? Yes, she should feel happy! Youyang thought, and a bright smile, like the sky after rain, unconsciously bloomed on her beautiful face.

The situation became increasingly unstable, and life became even more difficult. The young master often had to go hungry or scavenge wild fruits to fill his stomach. Walking along the roads, she often saw groups of refugees fleeing from the north, carrying their belongings, leaning on canes, their expressions filled with panic and suffering. Youyang felt a pang of sorrow just looking at them. She knew the young master was also suffering; he seemed more worried than before, and he rarely even listened to her songs anymore. But she was powerless, and so was the young master. With the country on the verge of collapse, what could they do on their own?

On the 22nd day of the first month of the second year of Jingkang, the weather was unusually good. The continuous wind and rain finally stopped. Even though they had suffered from years of war, the people were still immersed in the joy of the New Year. At dusk, the crimson sky inexplicably rolled up with fiery clouds that covered the sky and blocked out the sun. Under the red light, the entire city of Bianjing looked like an ink painting soaked in a dye vat, so beautiful and eerie that it made people's hearts tremble.

At three quarters past the hour of You (5:45 PM), the earth suddenly began to tremble. No one knew what had happened. Soon after, a strange object appeared on the distant horizon—a black demon!

The Jin army, clad in black armor, stretched out their cold tentacles like ghosts of the night, climbing over the mountains, crushing the budding willow branches, and shattering the red characters of the New Year's decorations. Like locusts passing through, they spread across the land, their swords clashing and their drums thundering. At that time, Youyang and the young master had just returned to the outskirts of Bianjing.

"A golden...golden man!"

"Run!"

"Mother...mother!"

"I want my dad, I want my dad..."

A sudden, sharp, cold, and dreamlike chorus of panicked cries echoed all around. Standing amidst the fleeing crowd, Youyang felt a sudden sense of bewilderment and confusion. Red blood splattered all around, the sounds of battle cries, and collapsing buildings filled the air. She saw crying children, elderly people being pushed over, gleaming blades, and a raging inferno filling her eyes and heart. Youyang felt like she was dreaming, a terrible nightmare. She wanted to wake up quickly; she hated this feeling. The stench of blood assaulted her nostrils. In that instant, she heard the young master's heart-wrenching, maniacal laughter—a laugh both arrogant and desolate, seemingly filled with pain yet carrying an inexplicable transcendence. What kind of laughter was that?!

Youyang felt her heart tremble violently. The young master's emotions surged like a tidal wave, forcing her to open her mouth to release the suffocating pain in her chest. The melody, as if out of control, overflowed from her lips and spread throughout the battlefield. The rhythm was like a mountain stream in the third month of spring flowing over rocks, like fish playing in the bottom of a deep valley, like the quiet drizzle of early spring, and like the falling petals of late spring. Amidst the wailing, every note was exceptionally clear and intense. Everyone suddenly fell silent at that moment. Only Youyang's singing could be heard between heaven and earth. The young master's feelings, intentions, wishes, and heart were conveyed throughout the entire battlefield through Youyang's song. Even the evil spirits stopped their killing spree in a daze, bewildered by the heavenly melody.

“If you don’t enter the world, how can you escape it? Shi Luo, you once said that my rhymes are heartless and my tunes are without intention. I couldn’t understand it at all, and I was filled with resentment. Today I finally understand. But now, the world is full of calamities and disasters. If the skin is about to perish, where will the hair attach? So be it. I might as well go back. I might as well go back!” As the young master spoke, he pushed Youyang away violently, grabbed a weapon, and stabbed at the nearest Jin soldier.

"No!!! No!!!!" Youyang's mind went blank. She felt no pain at all from the wounds chafed by the stones. Her eyes were filled with terror. She could only see red blood slowly, slowly flowing out from the pale blade. The knife belonged to the Golden Man, and the blood belonged to the Young Master.

“Youyang, go with Shilu. This is not a place for you.” The young master’s face was as white as paper, and bright red blood seeped out with every movement he made, until several knives were pulled out of his soft abdomen at the same time. Instantly, red liquid gushed out, brighter than the lanterns of the Lantern Festival.

"Youyang, thank... thank you for always being with me." The young master reached out his blood-stained hand and lovingly stroked Youyang's body. The cold strings of the black paulownia wood zither emitted a mournful sound like a woman's weeping, each note shrill and chilling. Those eyes, once clear; those eyes, once gentle; those eyes, once spirited; those eyes, once... those eyes, now closed, and closed forever.

On the 22nd day of the first month of the second year of Jingkang, the weather was unusually good. The continuous cold wind and rain finally stopped. On that day, Bianjing fell, the Jurchens captured Emperors Huizong and Qinzong, and abducted more than 11,000 women. This event is known in history as the Jingkang Incident.

"Did you agree to come with me?" On the sunny hillside, a man leaning against a big tree calmly asked. No one answered him; only the wind rustled through the leaves. A black, elegant guzheng lay quietly on a blue cloth, the sunlight caressing the strings and the faint, clear sound of its notes could be heard.

"Then... let's go." The man carefully wrapped the zither, turned and left.

"An ancient zither left behind when the Eastern Emperor Taiyi ascended to immortality—such a magnificent gift! I wonder how Che Xian will thank me for this six-hundredth birthday present..."

A sound seemed to drift on the wind from afar.

****

Author's note:

This story was inspired by a magazine I read when I was very young, *Story Collection* (probably around sixth grade), which I think is still available today. The story is about a wealthy young man obsessed with music, whose sole ambition was to become the greatest musician in the world. One day, someone told him that an old man had come to a dilapidated temple to perform, playing the erhu with such poignant beauty that it moved all who heard it. The young man didn't believe it, but went to the temple and, upon hearing the music, burst into tears, determined to become the old man's apprentice. The old man said, "My music conveys my inner state. It is through poverty and hardship that I have achieved such a sound. You were born into wealth, eating delicacies and wearing fine silks; you could never possibly produce such a melody." He not only firmly refused the young man's request but also left the place the very next day.

Years later, the old man returned to the same place after years of wandering. One evening, he suddenly heard a mournful zither tune. The music was so sorrowful and poignant that it seemed to break the hearts of all who heard it. The old man was immediately shocked and exclaimed, "Such music must have come from someone with an extremely tragic past!" Upon inquiring, he learned that the zither player was none other than the wealthy young man from years ago. After the old man left, he pondered deeply and finally decided to experience the true suffering the old man had described. He not only divorced his wife and squandered all his wealth but even blinded himself, living a life of hardship and deprivation by performing for a living. Only now had he achieved such success.

What exactly is this story trying to tell us? Even now, Chen Ye doesn't quite understand. To say that creative work requires immersing oneself in life seems a bit excessive; to portray the perseverance and willpower of a wealthy young man also seems off. In any case, Chen Ye wouldn't do that, and neither would anyone else. :)

I hadn't originally planned to write about anything major, but in the end I still ended up talking about the Jingkang Incident, which was truly a disaster, especially for those poor women who were abducted and forced to serve the desires of the invaders.

Also, Youyang, I have fulfilled my promise to you. I wonder if you are satisfied with this role? Have a good time!

Liu Bingdao's Happy Life

Every Monday morning at seven o'clock, Liu Bingdao gets up on time.

He washed up in the bathroom, then changed into the white shirt and suit trousers that he had prepared the night before and placed on the bedside table, put on a dark gray tie, then tidied his short hair in front of the full-length mirror, and put on his Citizen watch that he had used for ten years. When he got to this point in his preparations, Liu Bingdao would habitually check the time. The minute hand was at a 90-degree angle, 7:15, just like every workday.

Liu Bingdao grabbed his black briefcase and headed out to work.

On the third floor, Liu Bingdao met Aunt Zhang, who was returning from grocery shopping. He carried her basket up to the fifth floor for her, as he did every day, thanking her as they went downstairs. Liu Bingdao lived in an old-style neighborhood over fifteen years old. There were no high-rise buildings, the lighting was good, and it lacked the coldness of modern skyscrapers. The walls, tanned dark brown by sun and rain, were covered with a jumble of flyers—promotional flyers for things like "Old Army Doctor's Cure for Venereal Diseases" or "Moving Hotline." Liu Bingdao knew almost everyone in the neighborhood, just as almost everyone there knew him. Old-style neighborhoods are hotspots for gossip, but they are also places brimming with warmth—one of the reasons Liu Bingdao chose to live there.

"Good morning, Bingdao Liu!" As he walked out of the residential compound, two children from the next building, who were about to leave for school, greeted him. Liu Bingdao smiled slightly at them, then waved and left.

Those familiar with Liu Bingdao know that he studied abroad for many years and only returned at the beginning of last year. Therefore, most of the young people in the neighborhood call him Bingdao Liu, following the Western pronunciation. This is also related to his own statement that he has never had an English name. In any case, this somewhat strange nickname has now become quite common and widely used. In most cases, whenever Bingdao Liu is mentioned in this area, people will say "Oh," followed by a smile and say, "Him? I know him, I know him, a nice young man."

As mentioned above, Liu Bingdao has a very good reputation in the Jiangqiao neighborhood. He is humble, polite, highly educated, kind-hearted, has studied abroad, and works in a high-end office area. Although he is not particularly handsome, Liu Bingdao is still the undisputed prince charming in the hearts of many young women in the area.

"Hey, Lao Liu, here for work!" As Liu Bingdao munched on his breakfast bun and passed by the street corner, someone greeted him warmly. Liu Bingdao looked over and saw Yan Xiang, dressed in somewhat strange clothes, standing leisurely in her small, secluded courtyard, her arms outstretched as Xiao Que bustled around her.

"Ah, young master, you look so good in this! Little Sparrow said long ago that if you ever did cosplay, you would be absolutely stunning!!"

"Oh, whatever, when can I have breakfast?"

"Oh dear, don't rush, this isn't finished yet, young master, please be patient a little longer."

While acting as a model, or rather, a wooden doll, Yanxiang, who was bored and yawning, saw Liu Bingdao, greeted him warmly, and even winked at him.

"Uh... good morning." Liu Bingdao greeted her somewhat awkwardly and hurried past the door. He could still hear Yan Xiang's shameless crying from hunger in the distance.

In this Pomeranian community, there are some "people" you can't afford to offend, and Yanxiang is one of them.

Bomeiji is a place that gathers too many strange beings, not just demons, monsters, ghosts, phantoms, and gods, but also many other unclassifiable groups. Most of the time, it's a peaceful place, but it cannot be ruled out that under certain circumstances, someone might deliberately provoke conflict and harm weaker schools.

Yan Xiang was one of those terrifying groups. Liu Bingdao knew nothing about him, not even whether he was human or demon, god or monster. All Liu Bingdao knew was that since he came to this market four hundred years ago, countless people had told him, "Don't mess with Yan Xiang! Never mess with Yan Xiang!!" He had also witnessed firsthand how a demon who had offended Yan Xiang mysteriously disappeared from the market, never to be heard from again. Liu Bingdao's attitude towards Yan Xiang was to avoid him if possible, and to pretend he was blind if possible, never admitting to seeing him. However, perhaps because Liu Bingdao was too honest (or perhaps just for fun?), Yan Xiang seemed to enjoy causing him trouble. This was Liu Bingdao's only complaint about his current job and workplace.

As you might have guessed, Liu Bingdao, or rather, Bingdao Liu, is not a human male. His true identity is a praying mantis that has cultivated into a demon. Yes, that's right, it's because of his true identity that he has the name Liu Bingdao. A praying mantis with two blades naming itself Bingdao (meaning "combined blades") is undoubtedly a leap in pure literature! Liu Bingdao is an extremely intelligent praying mantis, which is undoubtedly related to his mother finding fragments of human classics for him to read from a young age. This excellent early education endowed Liu Bingdao with wisdom beyond what an ordinary praying mantis should have, which also led him to realize the precariousness of his situation one day as he approached adulthood.

Like many of the author's contemporaries, many had similar experiences: playing marbles, flipping through picture books, skipping rope, and, of course, being obsessed with "Black Cat Detective." One day, as Liu Bingdao was sunbathing on a human's windowsill, a child inside was watching a famous episode of "Black Cat Detective," featuring the praying mantis that eats its husband. Liu Bingdao had probably never experienced such terror in his life. As the plot unfolded and the mystery was gradually revealed, cold sweat poured down his body. For a long time after the episode ended, Liu Bingdao couldn't shake off the horrifying truth. At that moment, Liu Bingdao suddenly realized his tragic future—a terrifying fact his gentle and beautiful mother had never told him: one day, when he married, his wife would kill him to ensure the continuation of their lineage and then eat him piece by piece.

Liu Bingdao felt as if his entire world had turned dark. For a long time afterward, the once lively and playful boy fell into an emotional slump and self-destructive behavior that others couldn't understand. Then one day, he found a tattered book in a trash can, filled with strange incantations and mantras. Initially, perhaps just to dispel his fear, Liu Bingdao began reading. However, the more he read, the more he couldn't stop himself from looking at the book. At the same time, Liu Bingdao discovered that a profound change was taking place within him. He began to understand things he couldn't understand before, things his companions would never understand: what sunrise and sunset meant, what the mountains and earth murmured about. Spring passed, summer solstice came, autumn went and winter came. One by one, Liu Bingdao's companions died, and new companions were born one by one. But Liu Bingdao always lived on, for a very long time. So long that the children who watched "Black Cat Detective" with him grew up, got married, had children, and died of old age. Until one day, in a situation that Liu Bingdao himself could not understand, he suddenly found that he had grown limbs like a human. That day was exactly one hundred and fifty years after Liu Bingdao first picked up that book.

After that, Liu Bingdao began to venture into human society. He once boarded a plane to France and stayed there for a long time just to learn how to make the best mousse cake in the world. He also once climbed Mount Everest alone just to see the view from the highest point in the world. In different eras, Liu Bingdao changed his identity, but the only thing that remained unchanged was his profession. Liu Bingdao was an excellent chef.

Perhaps due to his spiritual practice (it was only about fifty years after Liu Bingdao attained human form that he learned from various sources that the book he had found in the trash was a carefully compiled copy of the *Peng Zu Jing*), Liu Bingdao was usually a vegetarian, but this did not prevent him from becoming an excellent chef. Whether it was Chinese cuisine or Western food, no matter how difficult the dish or how complex the flavor, it was all a piece of cake for Liu Bingdao. He loved his work as much as he loved his twin swords; these two innate blades were his best tools for chopping, slicing, and dicing. Sometimes, Liu Bingdao would think that Heaven made him a praying mantis so that he could become an outstanding chef.

That's a bit of a tangent. What I really wanted to say is that Liu Bingdao is a monster, and his profession is a chef. He works at Tianzhuan Pavilion in Bomei. Liu Bingdao works from 8 am to 10 pm every day in Bomei. He has a large kitchen and has recently started taking on several apprentices. The head chef has high hopes for him, and Liu Bingdao himself is very ambitious. Liu Bingdao doesn't have a girlfriend; he focuses all his interests on his work and spiritual practice, but he doesn't rule out the possibility of one day meeting "her." Furthermore, although Liu Bingdao practices spiritual cultivation every day, he only uses it as a means of self-cultivation; he has never thought about reaching some unattainable level or escaping his current life.

Liu Bingdao is a quiet and unassuming person. He never thinks about competing with others, so everyone in the neighborhood likes him. Liu Bingdao works six days a week, and on the other day he will stay at home watching DVDs, surfing the internet, or occasionally going out to browse bookstores.

Everything was fine for Liu Bingdao. His work was good; most customers raved about his skills, completely unaware that they were trading a fraction of their lifespan, luck, or health for it. His interpersonal relationships were excellent; he got along well with his colleagues and boss, except for Yanxiang, who would occasionally cause trouble. Liu Bingdao truly loved his life; he loved it so much that he always felt a warm, comforting warmth in his heart, like someone was gently breathing on him.

Long, long ago, Liu Bingdao learned a word, which he has been using ever since.

Happiness! Liu Bingdao felt like a happy person. Thinking this, he wiped his face with his flour-covered hands. His young apprentice exclaimed beside him, "Master, you've scratched your face again!"

Yeah, happiness can sometimes sneak up on you and give you a little kick when you're not looking! ^0^

Treat others as you would like to be treated

This is the story of Yan Shang, the owner of a "barter" supermarket...

**

Yan Shang doesn't know where he comes from.

When she opened her eyes, she had not yet formed concepts such as procreation, the world, or self. Of course, the thoughts that directly manifested in her mind at that time (she didn't even have the concept of a "brain") could not yet be summarized into abstract thought or language. In fact, even now, nearly a thousand years later, she is still full of doubts about the words "self" and "procreation," and remains filled with curiosity and incomprehension towards human beings.

At that time, the first thing Yan Shang saw when he opened his eyes was a magnificent yet eerie blood-red sky. The towering flames and blood-red light surged arrogantly, adorning the deep blue night sky like the crimson lips and brows of women vying for beauty in the deep palace, a beauty that was breathtaking.

Little Yan Shang had never seen anything so beautiful before. She babbled happily, reaching out towards the beautiful thing and clearing away any obstacles in her way. Those soft or stiff, heavy objects, some still warm, most no longer moving, held various strange and awkward positions, and a beautiful red liquid, like that in the sky, flowed out.

This was the scene when Shuoju, the former owner of "Extra Item Barter," first met Yan Shang. A small girl, naked, struggled forward through a pile of corpses. She seemed to be heading towards the sky, because she was so happy, leaning back and climbing towards the top of the pile of corpses, her chubby little hands grabbing at the clothes or hair of the dead, climbing and climbing.