“Here you go, big brother. This is the money I earned this week from helping everyone with math problems.”
The little girl stood on her tiptoes and handed Gu Sanqiu a small piece of white paper, then quickly ran back inside to call her friends for lunch.
Gu Sanqiu glanced at the note, then placed it in a nearby money box. The note didn’t have anything special written on it—just the large characters spelling out “10,000 Mora.”
Legally speaking, this paper had no value, nor did it have any purchasing power in the eyes of the gods. Yet, here, in exchange for this little piece of paper, one could buy a priceless bowl of ramen from Gu Sanqiu.
Why? Because this place was an orphanage, co-founded many years ago by the Gu family, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and the Qixing, as a semi-official shelter.
In recent years, under the management of a certain white-haired woman, businesspeople began sponsoring the orphanage, hoping to enhance their corporate image by contributing funds.
Were it not for the immense influence of the Qixing, and the ancestors of both Wangsheng and the Gu family, those merchants would have been the first to oppose the idea of building an orphanage on Feiyun Slope.
The reason it was built near Yujing Terrace was simple—Bubu Pharmacy was nearby, ensuring easy access to medical care, a top priority when the location was chosen.
The orphanage wasn’t just for children who had lost their parents. It also housed those who had been abandoned because they were different, weak, ill, or disabled.
In Gu Sanqiu’s generation, he made a habit of coming here weekly to cook for the children, offering support where he could.
It wasn’t about profit or status. For Gu Sanqiu, this was perhaps a tradition ingrained in the soul of a fragrance bearer, or maybe it was simply something he wanted to do.
Liking something or someone had nothing to do with their status or identity.
What I like, what I want to do—it has nothing to do with any external labels.
It’s just because I like it, just because I want to do it.
The broth bubbled and the noodles rolled in the pot. Slowly, the exquisite aroma of the Ugada giant-legged chicken and wheat intertwined and began wafting outside.
“Big brother’s here!” a child’s voice cried.
“Everyone, don’t push! Get in line, bring your bowls, and don’t get too close to the fire,” the first girl out instructed as she organized her friends. Meanwhile, Gu Sanqiu expertly ladled steaming noodles into the children’s waiting bowls.
“Mmm, so good!”
“This is the best thing I’ve eaten all year!”
Thud, thud, thud…
Gu Sanqiu raised an eyebrow as he saw a little boy pounding his own chest, choking. But before he could lift a finger, one of the boy’s friends expertly jumped in to help him.
“Eat slowly, there’s plenty more.”
The Ugada giant-legged chicken truly lived up to its reputation for being both delicious and nutritious. These kids likely wouldn’t be able to finish a second bowl.
If they could, Gu Sanqiu figured he might as well contact the Qixing to see if any of them were prodigies worth nurturing.
“Sanqiu, you’re such a help as always,” an elderly woman called out as she walked out of the orphanage. Her eyes sparkled with joy when she saw the Vision hanging from Gu Sanqiu’s waist.
“You’ve unlocked the power of the Vision? That’s wonderful news.”
“You’re too kind, Granny Lin.”
Gu Sanqiu treated the elderly woman, who had always cared for him like her own grandson, with great respect. Away from the children’s view, he discreetly handed her a pouch.
“There are three ten-thousand Mora banknotes in here. This is my own money.”
Thanks to his loyal black-winged condor, which occasionally brought back valuable items from its territory, Gu Sanqiu had a steady side income to support his extravagant spending habits.
He smiled as he handed the pouch to the old woman. “Don’t worry, Granny Lin. The money’s legitimate, and you don’t have to worry about me running out. Worst-case scenario, I can always apply for financial aid from the Qixing.”
“I trust the Gu family’s character and conduct, but you, you rascal, if only you could be a little more reliable.”
Granny Lin accepted the pouch without hesitation, giving Gu Sanqiu a playful tap on the arm.
“Such a shame, though. If you weren’t so unpredictable, I know a few nice girls from good families. They’d make wonderful brides.”
(・ω・｀ll)
Gu Sanqiu felt his scalp tingle, as if he were back in the awkward days of being set up on blind dates by overly eager matchmakers.
“Heh-heh, no need to worry about that, Granny! The wind’s picking up. I’ll go check if any of the kids still need food.”
With that, Gu Sanqiu made a hasty escape, laughing as he watched the children devour their meals.
“Little… Little Guzi…”
Suddenly, a soft, cold voice, somehow both cool and sweet, came from nearby. Gu Sanqiu’s expression froze as he turned his neck, the joints audibly creaking like a malfunctioning machine.
There stood a small girl, dressed in blue, wearing a tiny official’s hat on her snow-blue hair. Pinned to her head was a slightly worn talisman. Her arms were full of candy, and she tilted her head, staring at Gu Sanqiu with intense curiosity.
“This aura… You must be… Little Guzi.”
“This smell… So fragrant… Just like coconut milk. I want to eat.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll make something for you right away. Please, ancestor, give me a moment.”
Gu Sanqiu sighed and respectfully bowed to the visitor. “You’ve brought candy for the children, haven’t you? Why not deliver it to them while I cook for you?”
“Little Guzi… so thoughtful.”
The “ancestor” in her small, loli-like form slowly walked over to the children, and soon, joyful laughter erupted from the group as they welcomed her presence.
“Well, back to work.”
Gu Sanqiu shook his head helplessly and reignited the flames to cook more noodles.
“Though, I suppose it’s due to the quality of the ingredients. I never imagined Qiqi would be interested in food, given that she can’t even taste anything.”
It wasn’t just the chicken—the noodles themselves were top-notch ingredients he had fished out from his golden finger. The kind of goods even the finest restaurants would fight over.
As for why he called Qiqi “ancestor”…
Well, immortals live long lives, and the Gu family has existed for many generations. Their records and archives are vast.
Compared to reclusive immortals like Granny Ping or the tofu-loving adeptus, Qiqi’s presence in the mortal world was much more frequent.
Given the many interactions with her over the years—whether chasing off those foolish enough to think they could scheme against immortals or more often helping take care of her—the title of “ancestor” had become something of an unofficial tradition.
As for Gu Sanqiu’s thoughts on it… He mostly just wished Qiqi would stop calling him “Little Guzi,” since it was way too close to a certain title used by palace eunuchs. Otherwise, he had no complaints.
But considering Qiqi’s memory… It was likely a wish that would never come true.
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.