Hao didn’t feel mad at Dou Xinshi.
Not exactly.
More like confused and mildly overwhelmed.
The moment Dou Xinshi entered the store earlier, he had thrown himself to the ground in a full kowtow, forehead on tile, hands spread wide like he was ready to be accepted as a disciple on the spot.
No hello.
No introduction.
Just full shrine-mode in under five seconds.
Hao had stopped caring what Dou Xinshi actually called him.
But the problem was Dou Xinshi didn’t just say weird things.
He acted on them.
Polite customers bowed.
Dou Xinshi dropped into full genuflection with dramatic background music only he could hear.
Respectful customers asked for a recommendation.
Dou Xinshi tried to offer up one of his own internal organs in exchange for another cup of instant noodles.
Hao could only stare and silently pray to the heavens.
Please. No more weirdos.
If two more customers started calling him Supreme Lord of Instant Noodles, this place was going to stop being a store and start being a cult headquarters.
What if they scared off the normal customers?
What if next day someone with actual sense of reason walked in, saw three people kneeling in worship to the ice cream machine, and walked right out the door?
That would hurt sales.
Not that Hao couldn’t just kick them out if things got too far.
He had that authority.
But honestly, as long as they knew their limit Hao was cool about it.
After all, business is business.
People could form an entire cult or rally an army around the store’s products for all he cared, so long as they didn’t start disturbing the regulars or wrecking the place.
Moments slipped by, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh.
Lin Yijun and Xiao Lianfeng were the first to cross, stepping aside as a familiar group entered behind them.
There was the old man who looked like he might fall asleep standing up, Elder Bai Qingshui, Sect Master Jiang Xianwei, and Elder Tang Sheng.
’Oh? What’s with the Drifting Sword Sect crew today?’
’Secret meeting in the store?’
The four came to a halt where they stood – everyone except Elder Bai Qingshui, who stepped forward and bowed deeply to Hao.
Then he broke into an ultra-rare smile, no, even more than that!
A once-in-a-decade-level smile.
And somehow, it fit Elder Bai Qingshui perfectly, as if it was his natural face all along.
Why doesn’t he wear that expression all the time?
He could probably scam – uh, I mean, persuade people – into buying anything with that look.
“Benevolent Benefactor, I offer my deepest gratitude. Your humble establishment has been the key to reclaiming my honor and settling old debts.”
“Without your… extraordinary drinks, today’s battle would still be a distant dream.”
His eyes met Hao’s, shining with sincere appreciation.
“That which you provide fuels more than the body – it ignites the spirit! For that, I am forever indebted.”
Before Hao could even react or fully process what was happening, Elder Bai Qingshui bowed once more, this time extending his hands forward.
“…”
Suddenly, a long, narrow tray appeared between them, more like a ceremonial platter used in rituals than any ordinary dish.
On it rested a perfectly roasted fish, its scales gleaming with a deep crimson glaze. The surface crackled lightly as wisps of fragrant steam curled upward.
The meat looked tender and juicy, charred edges promising a smoky sweetness.
“This is a small gift, far from enough to repay your kindness, Benefactor. Still, please accept it as a sign of my deepest gratitude.”
“It will never cover the debt I owe, but it is what I can give.”
“…” Hao blinked, brow furrowing in confusion.
’Debt? When did this old man borrow from me? I don’t remember handing out loans around here.’
His nose twitched as the rich aroma of the dish wafted over – embered caramelized edges, succulent meat glistening under a lacquer of savory coating, and hints of wild herbs curling through the air.
It smelled like something you’d dream about at midnight and drool over the next morning.
’System, this should be fine to take, yeah?’
’I mean, it’s not like he’s sneaking me a bribe or trying to get a secret discount or anything… Just a thank-you dish. Right?’
[Host, accepting food offerings from customers is permitted. Provided there is no exchange of special privileges, exclusive products, or unauthorized favors in return, it does not violate any store policies.]
Hao let out a relieved breath. ’So basically, as long as it’s not some undercover bribe for free goodies, I’m safe.’
[Yes, host.]
Hao nodded to himself, solemn as a monk.
The system didn’t chirp, didn’t nag, didn’t throw a passive-aggressive “host behavior inappropriate” pop-up.
W.
Big W.
The universe? Back in alignment.
’The word is healing!’
Hope. There was hope.
Hao cleared his throat, putting on his most humble storekeeper expression, even though he was already eyeing that thick-cut fish meat.
He raised a hand with exaggerated hesitation.
“Bring it over here, Elder.”
Elder Bai Qingshui’s expression practically lit up.
He brought the tray forward with two hands, reverent as if offering a celestial artifact.
Hao calmly reached forward, pinched a modest piece of the fish with his fingers – then casually popped it into his mouth as if he wasn’t absolutely dying to try it.
The meat had the tender flakiness of perfectly steamed Cod, yet carried the rich depth of Bluefin Tuna belly.
There was a buttery softness that reminded Hao of grilled Mackerel – except more refined, cleaner, like every impurity had been filtered out by nature itself.
Then came the heat.
Not the kind that burned the tongue or made you sweat.
It was warm, steady, and deep – like a slow ember tucked beneath each layer of flesh. The spice wasn’t from any sauce or rub Hao could detect.
No seasoning crust, no obvious marinade.
It was in the meat.
Embedded into the fibers themselves. As if the beast had marinated in spiritual fire from the moment it was born.
As Hao swallowed, a strange warmth bloomed in his belly.
Then it expanded!
Not in a gentle “ah, that’s cozy” kind of way.
More in a “yo did I just down a fire pill on accident” kind of way.
A rush of spiritual qi poured through his meridians like a cracked energy drink to the soul.
’Am I cultivating right now?’
Hao paused, feeling his dantian light up as if he had just queued into a max-level EXP farming party without even signing up.