Chapter Three: Fatty Zhang

Just as Feng Fugui left, Feng Yuan quickly packed his things and headed out as well. He had no intention of staying cooped up in this wretched village. Since he had arrived in this world, he was determined to go out and experience it for himself, to see what kind of place it truly was.

Feng Yuan’s house stood at the very edge of the village, beyond which lay barren hills and wild lands. The path forward, passing through the village, led toward the city.

As he walked, Feng Yuan took in the sights of the entire village. It looked much like something out of a period drama—dirt paths, mud-brick houses with thatched roofs, villagers toiling in the fields with hoes and shovels. Nearly all of them were gaunt and haggard, their faces yellowed and thin, exchanging their very lives for three meals a day.

In the distance, Feng Fugui’s home stood out—a high-walled compound, with sturdy men and horses patrolling the grounds.

Gazing at these scenes, Feng Yuan was struck by a sudden sense of desolation. The rich overflowed with wealth, while the poor spilled their blood; it was ever thus, in any age.

Leaving the village and following the narrow path for about ten kilometers, one would arrive at the city—Feng City, one of the nine great cities of the Rich Nation. The city was as prosperous as the capital itself; as long as you had money, you could enjoy life like an emperor within its walls.

It was summer, the sun at its zenith, and the heat was oppressive. Feng Yuan hadn’t gone far before he was drenched in sweat, as if he’d just crawled out of a river.

Of course, it wasn’t just the heat—Feng Yuan’s body was dreadfully weak from years of imbalance and lack of exercise, as frail as an addict’s.

“Phew… with a body this feeble, how am I supposed to manage multiple wives and concubines? I need to start training!” he muttered to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced around; there was no shade in sight, and he couldn't very well rest under the blazing sun. With no choice, he pressed on.

More than an hour later, Feng Yuan finally reached the city. He was utterly exhausted and starving. Spotting an inn, he wasted no time in stepping inside.

“Waiter, bring me a pot of your best wine, a pound of beef, two roast chickens, and some greens!” Feng Yuan ordered.

“Right away, sir! Please have some tea and rest while I prepare your meal,” the waiter replied briskly, pouring him a bowl of warm tea. Feng Yuan drank it in one long draught, parched as he was.

The tea revived him somewhat, and he began to look around with curiosity. It was his first time in a place like this, and everything felt novel and intriguing.

“Hm?”

In a corner, Feng Yuan noticed a fat man in white robes, engrossed in a book. At a glance, he recognized him as his fellow scholar, Zhang Zhen—Fat Zhang.

Feng Yuan walked right over, sat opposite Zhang, and slapped his book lightly. “What are you reading so intently, fatty? Your noodles are getting cold!”

“Ah! You nearly gave me a heart attack, Feng Yuan! You’ll be the death of me,” Zhang exclaimed, clutching his chest, his face pale.

“What’s so interesting? Let me see!” Feng Yuan grinned, snatching the book. “Legend of Immortal Fate” was the title. He flipped it open and saw it was a novel about gods and demons. Having read countless online fantasy novels in his previous life, Feng Yuan was thoroughly jaded; this sort of thing didn’t interest him. He tossed the book back to Zhang.

“Hey, be careful! I went to great lengths to buy this, cost me fifty coins!” Zhang protested, checking the book anxiously for damage before tucking it away as if it were a treasure.

“What? You paid fifty coins for that ragged book? You got swindled!” Feng Yuan said incredulously.

“You don’t know, Feng Yuan! This is the hottest book on the market—sold out the moment it hit the shelves! Everyone’s reading it, day and night. Fifty coins is cheap. It’s going for a hundred on the second-hand market!” Zhang gestured excitedly.

“Seriously? What’s so great about it that it fetches a hundred coins?”

“You’d understand if you read it! The stories are amazing—cultivation, immortals, gods and demons, all kinds of fantastic adventures. I’ve read it ten times and never get tired of it. I can’t wait for the next volume; who knows what the hero will encounter next!” Zhang’s eyes shone with anticipation as he spoke.

Feng Yuan frowned, then said, “Let me see that book again.”

“Be careful, don’t ruin it—I plan to resell it!” Zhang warned, handing it over cautiously.

Feng Yuan flipped through several pages and shook his head. Compared to the web novels from his previous life, this was amateurish; the battles and the plotting were lackluster, and the archaic language made it a chore to read. He quickly lost interest.

Yet, as he looked at the book, an idea sparked. What if he transcribed the web novels from his previous life and sold them here? They might become a sensation. At a hundred coins a book, he could get rich in no time.

With that thought, he returned the book to Zhang. “Thanks, goodbye.”

He returned to his table just as the waiter brought his dishes. Feng Yuan immediately dug in. Despite their plain appearance and simple seasoning, the food tasted wonderful—there was a natural flavor to it, the difference between organic produce and the chemical-laden fare he remembered.

The wine, on the other hand, was disappointing—sour, almost like vinegar, and weak as beer. After a few sips, he lost interest, but it did help cut the grease.

“Feng Yuan!”

Just as he was eating and drinking, Fat Zhang approached with a smile, settling across from him. Zhang’s eyes lit up at the sight of the food and he swallowed hard.

Feng Yuan glanced at him with a muffled “mm,” and kept eating.

“Feng Yuan, is that roast chicken you’re eating? Smells delicious!”

“That’s right, it’s mouthwatering! Just watch—one bite, and the flavors burst in your mouth—absolutely divine!” Feng Yuan declared, tearing into a roast chicken as he spoke, all the while keeping an eye on Fat Zhang.

Zhang gulped, eyes fixed on the table. “And beef too, and greens—quite a feast! Isn’t it too much? You might not finish it all…”

“No problem, I’ll just toss what’s left!”

“Er… Feng Yuan, as the sages say, wasting food brings divine retribution. How about this—I could help you out a little?”

“I’m not afraid of divine retribution!”

“But…”

“But what? Go back and eat your noodles—they’re getting cold. No need to help here.”

Fat Zhang looked forlornly at the meat on the table, almost in tears. “You really don’t need my help? I’m just being neighborly…”

“That’s exactly the kind of person I can’t stand.”

Crushed, Zhang trudged back to his table, glancing back every few steps. The two-meter distance took him five minutes to cross. Even as he sat and ate his noodles, his eyes stayed on Feng Yuan’s table, glistening with unshed tears—truly reluctant to part.

Feng Yuan grinned mischievously at the sight, then called out, “Come over and eat with me!”

“Alright!” Zhang shot over like the wind, grabbing slices of beef and stuffing them into his mouth.

“No rush, there’s plenty. If it’s not enough, I’ll order more,” Feng Yuan said, smiling at him.