Hao carried the carton box of Wing Blast cans and began stocking them into the glass-door fridge.
Each blue-silver can caught the light, lining up neatly behind the cold glass.
He paused, arms crossed, admiring the rows for a few seconds.
“…Damn. Sexy.”
But work was work. Hao turned and got back to restocking the rest of the shelves and fridges.
By the time he was done, the store looked clean, fresh, and fully loaded for war. He flipped the hanging plaque to “Open.”
With quick turn, Hao marched straight toward whatever his taste buds demanded next.
Original Salted Potato Chips. A can of Lime Fizz. And for dessert, Soft Serve Chocolate Ice Cream.
A perfect, well-balanced breakfast.
Hao was living the dream. His inner child would be sobbing tears of joy right now, probably giving him a standing ovation with greasy fingers and a mouth full of chips.
He returned to the counter, chips in one hand, drink tucked under his arm, chocolate cone in the other.
He was about to enjoy his second lick – rich, creamy, and perfectly bittersweet with just enough coolness to make his soul happy –
The door swung open.
A whole group had entered.
A flock, even.
A rare sight: both Sovereign City and Scorching Soul City customers, walking in together.
Old Tiger Zhao with his hands behind his head.
Dou Xinshi, looking sleepy but alert.
Lin Yijun and Xiao Lianfeng, both neat and formal.
And –
’Ji Yunzhi?’ Hao blinked again.
The bald rogue alchemist had returned.
Oh? The mad scientist is back?!
Ji Yunzhi hadn’t really been coming around much.
He asked about the Cola-Inspired Pill a while back, then visited once or twice just to buy a single can of Cola, and disappeared again. Almost as if he were some mysterious side character with unfinished lore.
Hao actually respected the bald guy’s focus. You had to admire someone that dedicated to a goal.
But still.
If the man even showed up just to buy one Cola a week, Hao would’ve felt better about life.
Hao narrowed his eyes playfully.
’You stingy bald man… Just buy Cola with the potato chips at least. Cut me some slack, bro.’
He took a big chomp of his ice cream, watching them all walk in.
Suddenly, a sharp stab of brain freeze hit him, feeling a mini ice storm in his skull.
’Shit.’
Without hesitation, Hao focused his solar qi and guided the warm energy from his dantian up through his chest and neck, aiming it right at his forehead where the freeze was settling in.
Almost instantly, the icy pain melted away.
Hao smirked, thinking back. He’d discovered this trick by accident once.
Since then, whenever a brain freeze tried to ruin his ice cream time, he simply zapped it away with his solar qi.
It was a total game changer!
If everyone had this little cheat code, the world would be a brighter place, and brain freeze would be just ancient history.
The newly arrived customers gave Hao their usual greeting, each in their own oddly consistent fashion.
And then, they all scattered toward their personal objectives. Not chores exactly, more of a holy journey for junk food.
Ji Yunzhi blinked when Dou Xinshi dropped to one knee again in front of Hao like he was proposing marriage or pledging allegiance to the store.
The rogue alchemist stood there, unsure, then just scratched the shiny summit of his wisdom dome. The man had the kind of scalp that could signal passing ships on a sunny day.
Well. The kneeling guy didn’t seem dangerous, so whatever.
Ji Yunzhi and Old Tiger Zhao ended up walking side by side toward Hao, their pace unintentionally synced.
One was bald enough to blind a cultivator during golden hour.
The other clung desperately to a few stubborn loyal strands doing their best against the march of time.
Honestly, it might’ve been better if Old Tiger Zhao just embraced the breeze life and joined the Bald Brotherhood.
Together, they resembled a father-son duo.
At one point, they both turned their heads at the exact same moment and locked eyes.
It was the kind of silent stare-off that only happens between two men with questionable hair decisions and too much time.
Neither of them said anything.
They both just slowly turned their heads forward again, continuing toward Hao like that awkward moment never existed.
Meanwhile, the rest of the group zoomed over to the aisles, already eyeing their go-to picks.
Ji Yunzhi stepped aside and let Old Tiger Zhao go first as they neared.
The old man gave off this weird vibe. Something in Ji Yunzhi’s gut told him to keep his distance, not out of fear but just a healthy respect for the unpredictable.
It felt as if something volatile was lurking beneath the surface, so he figured it was better not to stir it up.
Old Tiger Zhao asked for two tokens for the ice cream from Hao, one vanilla and one chocolate, handing over four crystals.
At the same time, Ji Yunzhi scanned the store, noting all the changes since his last visit. There were so many new products now, and the inside of the store was much bigger than before, with proper chairs and tables added.
He hadn’t been around much lately, caught up in perfecting his alchemical creations.
The Cola-Inspired Pill had taken him forever to revise, but he finally got it to a point where he could proudly hand it over to Hao. The countless days and sleepless nights spent refining every little detail had blurred together, lost in the blur of pure focus.
Sure, it was frustrating when things didn’t go his way, but that struggle was part of the thrill. Alchemy wasn’t just a craft – it was his passion, his obsession, his reason to keep pushing.
Watching the formula finally come together reminded him why the grind was worth it, fueling his determination to keep creating.
Alchemy doesn’t care about your mood or excuses. It demands precision, or it spits you out – Ji Yunzhi.
Old Tiger Zhao hummed as he strolled toward the ice cream machine, hands tucked behind his back.