Chapter 1: The Dao Is Ruthless

The cold wind cut like a knife, and snowflakes flew everywhere.

As soon as Henry Walker opened his eyes, he saw himself sitting in a yellow-gray carriage, the compartment swaying slightly, with the soft voice of a little girl speaking beside him.

Outside the carriage was a cacophony of noisy, bustling voices.

There were cries of vendors, shouts, cheers, and the laughter of children.

Henry Walker let out a deep sigh.

He knew he could never go back. From a jaded old hand muddling along in a state-owned enterprise, after getting drunk once, he woke up in this world. It had been five days now.

He sniffed the air; there was the aroma of wine, pancakes, and fried dough sticks.

"Ah, the osmanthus wine from Osmanthus Lane is getting more and more fragrant."

The personal maid Little Grace said in a childish voice inside the carriage.

Little Grace was only twelve this year. Coupled with her naturally babyish face and petite stature, she looked no different from a ten-year-old child. Her little face was chubby and rosy, dressed in a green cotton dress, and her small hands were rubbing a hair tie for Henry Walker to use when getting off the carriage.

This kind of hair tie was made from the bark of a very expensive jiao tree, naturally emitting a faint fragrance, but the only downside was that it became stiff in cold weather and needed to be warmed and softened by hand.

Henry Walker smiled but said nothing.

The carriage soon stopped.

He lifted the curtain and got out. On the gray-white street, slabs of bluestone were laid, each the size of a washbasin.

Carriages and people leading horses passed back and forth along the street.

Vendors and girls or women out for a stroll mingled freely, their laughter ringing out without restraint.

Henry Walker looked up at the tavern in front of him.

The white signboard was rectangular, with three large characters written in flamboyant calligraphy in the center: Osmanthus Lane.

"Young Master Lu is here! Please come in! The A-class private room is reserved for you!" a young attendant greeted him with a beaming smile.

Henry Walker nodded, playing the part of a wealthy young master. He took a silver-edged white paper fan from Little Grace's hand, gave it a gentle flick, and the fan unfolded to reveal a landscape painting of misty mountains and rivers, with undulating peaks and valleys, light and shadow interwoven, and an inscription in a masterly hand.

He followed the attendant into the tavern with practiced ease.

The tavern had two floors. The first-floor hall was filled with people listening to someone sing.

A young girl in green stood in the open space, her voice melodious, accompanied by a middle-aged woman playing the pipa.

She was singing a ballad called "The Three Meetings," which told the tragic love story of a general going off to war and a fox maiden from the wilds.

Unfortunately, most of the patrons were rough men; only a few scholarly young gentlemen could appreciate it, while the rest ignored the two performers. There were few tips as well.

Henry Walker stopped, and seeing how lively the first floor was, simply found an empty seat and sat down.

"Who requested 'The Three Meetings'?" he casually asked the attendant.

His status at Osmanthus Lane was different. If this place was the equivalent of a high-end entertainment club on Earth, then he was the supreme VIP customer here, spending at least hundreds of thousands a year.

Such spending made him a top-tier client in a northern city like Jiulian City.

"It was Young Master Zhou. Edward Clark—Young Master Clark." the attendant replied in a low voice.

Henry Walker didn't make things difficult for him and waved him away.

After sitting down with Little Grace, he scanned the crowd on the first floor and quickly spotted a pale, frail-looking young man in white, holding a flashy gold-edged lotus fan, gently fanning himself.

"Probably has his eye on that singing girl again," Henry Walker shook his head and said.

"Young Master warned him last time—he really is a bad person!" Little Grace pouted in dissatisfaction.

Henry Walker smiled and said nothing more, quietly listening to the music.

Soon, the dark red wooden table was filled with food and wine. Henry Walker picked up some stir-fried lettuce and shredded pork and put it in his mouth, then took a sip of the osmanthus wine, which tasted almost like a soft drink. The faint, sweet floral aroma mixed together, just like drinking juice.

"Fine clothes and good food, no worries, and a pretty maid to warm my bed—this life is simply decadent." Sometimes Henry Walker wondered if he should just live out his days like this. After all, this kind of idle, pampered life was what he had always pursued in his previous life.

A bite of food, a sip of wine.

Then he opened his mouth for Little Grace to feed him a peeled, salted ice shrimp.

In this snowy northern city, ice shrimp were a local specialty. Just scoop into the thick ice holes, and you could catch a large number of small, semi-transparent shrimp.

These were ice shrimp.

Ice shrimp were half the size of regular shrimp, but their flavor was incomparably delicious. The meat melted in your mouth—truly a supreme delicacy.

Of course, the price was also extremely high. For ordinary people, eating them once a month was already a luxury; how could they have them at every meal like he did?

As Henry Walker enjoyed the food and wine and listened to the music, his mind was on other matters.