The entire Phoenix Settlement was shrouded in the night, with scattered lights, dogs barking, insects chirping, and the faint sounds of couples arguing and children crying. Looking eastward, however, was a completely different scene: streams of traffic, bright streetlights, shops still open, catering to energetic young customers.

Within one city, it was as if there were two worlds.

William Grant stood in the empty courtyard for a while. Only when he started to feel a bit chilly did he slip back inside. He lay down on the bed, but couldn’t fall asleep at all, staring up at the pitch-black ceiling.

When people have extraordinary encounters, their hearts are always stirred, though everyone shows it differently. He was, in all seriousness, an introvert (men) with a reserved (sao) personality, not one to show his emotions easily. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited, thrilled, or confused.

He had lived for 21 years, healthy in body and mind, with a normal orientation, and yet a squirrel had opened a mysterious door for him—why did that sound so strange?

He longed for, and was determined to push open that door, to see how wonderful the world inside might be. Even if the road ahead was rough and full of thorns.

Chapter 7 Buyer

Morning, at home.

In the room where the spices were kept, William Grant woke from his meditation and smiled helplessly. “Sigh, still not working.”

For nearly a week now, whenever he had free time, he would try to sense spiritual energy, even searching online for so-called internal cultivation methods, hoping to learn something. Unfortunately, it was useless; the spiritual energy always floated in the air, never coming any closer.

You could say that, aside from feeling lighter and stronger, with a clearer mind, he was no different from an ordinary person. He understood in his heart that without the proper techniques, he hadn’t truly entered the path.

Actually, William Grant had always been puzzled. Living a perfectly normal life in a modern society, how had things suddenly changed? Where exactly had Big Brother picked that red fruit? Were there other rare treasures there?

He really wanted to find out, but the squirrel didn’t understand human speech, nor did it show any intention of leading him there.

Still, fortunately, there was the art of incense-making. Since that night, he’d noticed that his state of mind while making incense faintly resonated with a certain realm. Each time he finished, he felt his consciousness become just a little more refined, though it was only a tiny bit.

In the past, he would never have noticed, but under the influence of spiritual energy, he could sense that subtle change.

“Tick, tick, tick!”

The old clock was still ticking reluctantly. William Grant stood up, stretched his muscles in the courtyard, then began preparing today’s goods.

The instant noodles and sausages hadn’t sold for ages, so he’d given up on those. There was a bit of pickled mustard left, bottled water was a must, tea eggs were the core item, and corn was pretty much a staple—about twenty ears a day.

In addition, he carried a box containing three sachets of incense.

He could now make incense much faster, and since he was using it for cultivation, he made a few extra. The sachets were filled with blended spices, could be hung by the bed or carried around, and would emit a faint floral fragrance.

William Grant deliberately left a bit later, rode his bike to the foot of the mountain, and then strolled up at a leisurely pace. Halfway up, he suddenly put his fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp whistle.

Not long after the piercing sound faded, he heard rustling in the woods, and a big gray squirrel scampered up to him.

“Big Brother, morning!”

He greeted it, and the squirrel squeaked in reply, leaping onto the carrying pole with agility that didn’t match its size. The right side of the pole suddenly sank, making him grin as he started to grumble:

“Wow, you’ve put on at least three or four more pounds.”

“Don’t you feel any shame? Look at how others grow.”

“How are you ever going to find a wife like this? Hey, by the way, are you a boy or a girl?”

“Bang! Bang!”

He kept nagging, and the squirrel, thoroughly annoyed, bounced hard a few times, nearly shaking the pole apart.

And so, man and squirrel made their way up the mountain, arriving at the little clearing. Big Brother leapt onto a nearby tree, still squatting like a farmer.

William Grant unloaded his goods and set up his stall with practiced ease. The stove was lit, a few ears of old corn bubbling in the pot, and tea eggs, already cooked, were kept warm with charcoal on the ground.

He casually grabbed a few peanuts and tossed them one by one up into the tree. His aim was good, but Big Brother’s catching was even better, stuffing each peanut into its mouth. Who knew how those cheeks worked—just like Doraemon’s pocket, truly some kind of black technology.

After feeding the squirrel, he sat on a folding stool, pulled over a plastic bag containing the flatbread he’d made last night, and started on his breakfast.

If anyone were there, they’d see this scene: under a lush tree, a guy gnawing on flatbread, a squirrel munching on peanuts, the two occasionally chattering away—a picture of perfect harmony.

……

“Xiaofei, wait for me.”

“Hurry up! Here, let me pull you.”

Late morning, at the end of the stone steps. The boy stopped, turned, and grabbed a girl’s hand, deliberately pulling her into his arms.

The girl blushed and said coyly, “Oh, stop it, let me go!”

“Why should I? I’ll carry you up.”

The boy ignored her protests, half-carrying his girlfriend to the clearing, then looked around. “There are chairs over there, let’s go sit for a bit.”

The girl glanced over too, and happened to spot the little stall. She immediately broke free and said, “Stop messing around, people are watching!”