I was drenched in sweat from training, my control becoming more and more skillful. By the end, I could wield it with complete ease, sending and retracting at will. As soon as I willed it, the red claws would shoot out simultaneously, striking wherever I wished, no longer slow as before. Caught up in the excitement, I let out a wild roar, spun around like a whirlwind, and swept my red claws backward in a fierce motion, uprooting a large tree in one go.

Dirt flew everywhere, and the tree’s fruit rained down around me like bright, colorful raindrops. My fiery red hair flew up, drifting gently over my forehead.

“William Carter, you’re so cool!” I shouted, and with a few “pops,” several fruits landed hard on my head, splattering red juice all over my face and hair.

Damn it, that’s spicy! The fruit from this tree was both pungent and hot. The juice ran down to my lips, and it felt like swallowing a ball of fire. I coughed loudly, my eyes stinging so much I couldn’t open them.

After wiping my face clean, I started to figure out which fruits were edible. In ancient times, Shennong tasted a hundred herbs; today, William Carter tastes a hundred fruits, not letting the ancients have all the glory.

All around the meadow, the ground was littered with piles of fruit like little hills, all wrecked by my red claws. I carefully stuck out my tongue and tried them one by one. The small purple berries were both sour and sweet; the big yellow pancake-shaped fruit was especially hard, and also salty and astringent; the green fruit smelled fragrant but tasted like chewing wax; the fruit covered in white fuzz had to be cut open, and inside the flesh was made up of little pink crystals, crisp and bursting with sweet juice. The best-tasting one, surprisingly, was a fruit that reeked with a fishy stench. Its surface was covered in sharp spikes, and when the skin split open, the flesh inside was golden yellow, sweet, rich, and fatty. Truly, you can’t judge a fruit by its appearance—just like me, ragged on the outside, but gold and jade within.

After a satisfying burp, I patted my bulging belly and lay down on the soft grass, crossing my legs and humming a little tune. Crisp birdsong danced among the branches, bees buzzed around the flowers, and the scent of nectar, the fragrance of fruit, and the brilliant sunlight all mingled together, clear and dazzling, like a rippling sea of light and color.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” A magnetic voice drawled lazily from behind me. Without looking up, I knew it was the beautiful Jiu.

Charlotte Harris fixed her burning gaze on me for a few moments. “A catastrophe comes once every ten years, and you’re not worried at all?”

I laughed it off. “What’s the use of worrying? I’ve always treated the sky falling as just another blanket. Right now, I’ve got food and drink, and three gorgeous women to keep me company—way better than Luoyang.”

Charlotte Harris asked curiously, “What was the world you used to live in like?”

I thought for a long time, but didn’t know how to describe Luoyang. The place I’d lived for sixteen years suddenly felt so unfamiliar.

Because it had never truly accepted me.

So all I could do was smile—a bitter smile.

“Judging by your look, life wasn’t so great there, was it?”

“Says who? I ate fish and meat every day, wore silk and satin. Servants everywhere, every concubine beautiful. If I stomped my foot, the whole city of Luoyang would tremble.” I bragged shamelessly, spitting as I talked. How could I lose face in front of a beauty? Charlotte Harris half-reclined at my feet, lying on her side, chin propped on her hand, like a lazy big cat.

“So, I lived the good life! A really good life!” I shouted, staring blankly at the sky.

Sixteen years, begging from door to door like a stray dog; digging through stinking trash heaps just to find a bit of leftover food; sneaking into farmers’ sheds at midnight to steal chickens, only to get my ribs broken in a beating. Watching my old man die of illness, unable to afford medicine.

That year, Luoyang’s winter was colder than ever. The wind and snow howled into our thatched hut, the torn window paper rustling. I was freezing and starving.

Looking at my father lying on the bed, I just kept crying. Besides crying, I didn’t know what else to do. The room was dark and cold, the wind like thin, sharp knives. I clenched my teeth and used my body to block the window, trying to keep the cold out. But my father still shivered. Under the quilt, with its black and yellow cotton stuffing poking out, he kept trembling.

We shivered together.

I wanted to curse the damned heavens, curse their cruelty, but I didn’t dare. Because I wanted to beg them to pity me, to save my father’s life.

Far away, there were firecrackers and beautiful fireworks. In Luoyang, many children wore silk-padded jackets and tiger-head shoes, running joyfully through the streets.

I envied them, and I was jealous. I knew I wasn’t born with their luck. People are different; my fate was cheap, my family couldn’t compare to others. When other kids ate candied hawthorn and carried rabbit lanterns, I could only turn away and quietly leave.

That day was New Year’s Eve.

I said, Dad, you’ll get better. You promised that for New Year’s, we’d eat dumplings and wear new clothes. My father said nothing, just looked at me, tears streaming silently down his face, on and on, until he breathed his last.

Heaven still didn’t pity me. I stood motionless in the ice-cold hut, listening to the firecrackers outside grow louder and louder.

From then on, I never cried again.

Because all my tears had already been shed.

The damned heavens wouldn’t grant me anything just because I begged and cried. The more they tried to torment me, the more I refused to give in. If they wanted me to cry, I’d laugh instead.

Chapter 008: Laugh Even When You Cry (Part 2)