Chapter 10: How Long Has

Hearing Feng Xue speak thus, the old man hesitated slightly, but after glancing at Feng Xue's clothing, he brought the cigarette to his nose, sniffed it, then, as if by instinct, tucked it behind his ear before speaking.

"That young master is the son of Master Qin, the wealthy merchant of the county; he's been educated abroad. The man behind him is Master Zhao San of the Tiger Subduing Fist style—though he's only second-rate in the martial world, here in our county he's already top-tier!"

Here, the old man hesitated again, then chose what seemed to him the most suitable term:

"This young master probably wants to do business with the Qin family? I'd advise you to go straight to the foreign trading house and speak with the manager. This young master Qin may have studied abroad, but he's clearly read too many books and lost his wits—he speaks nothing but foreign gibberish. You won't get anywhere talking to him!"

Saying this, the old man shook his head with a look of utter disdain, as if scorning all things foreign.

"Oh." Feng Xue now had his bearings, and immediately smiled.

"I'm not the least bit interested in that young master Qin—I'm just curious about the masters. By the way, does our county have any true masters? Not martial men, but those… well, the kind who specialize in spirit invocation and divination."

Upon hearing Feng Xue's question, the old man's eyes brightened with understanding. He weighed his words carefully.

"As for masters of the mysterious arts, we do have a few in the county. For instance, Ninth Aunt is famed throughout the surrounding villages as a spirit medium—anyone needing spirit boards or rice divination goes to her. She also handles funerals and burials, but such matters carry a taint of ill fortune; best not to disturb her unless necessary."

"Then there's Daoist Qian at the Northern City Charity Hall, with two apprentices. He was once renowned for exorcising ghosts and subduing demons. Now that he's old, he simply wants to live out his days in peace—these days he mostly advises on feng shui. But if real trouble arises, he won't back down: a few years ago, when zombies plagued the north, nearly wiping out an entire village, it was he who led the effort to resolve it."

"Then there's Miss Lan. Her ancestors came from the north, and for generations they were immortals. But in her generation, they stopped practicing. A few years ago she went abroad to study medicine, and upon returning opened a pharmacy. Still, I suspect her so-called foreign medicines are actually immortal arts—you just need to walk two streets ahead to see it…"

Here, the old man suddenly remembered something else, and added with clear distaste:

"Oh! There's also a foreign monk—supposedly a disciple of some foreign god or other—but he's got no real power. He just hands out fruit juice and biscuits every few days, tricking the greedy into listening to his sermons… Still, the county magistrate believes in him and gave him a prime plot of land."

Listening to the old man's sharply divided opinions, Feng Xue couldn't help but smile. Though the old man had no fondness for "foreign temples," he hadn't omitted them—evident of his honest nature. If not for his good fortune in stumbling upon a good man, then the county's folk customs must indeed be decent.

Thinking thus, Feng Xue began to deduce the nature of this world from the information he'd gathered—

This world appeared similar to his original one, with technological development roughly mid-20th century: bicycles appeared occasionally on the streets, but not a single automobile.

Moreover, judging from the old man's demeanor and the general living conditions of the townsfolk, life here seemed somewhat better than in his own era—either the region was sufficiently remote, or the presence of transcendent forces had caused some divergence in its history.

Yet Feng Xue understood that such an old man could not possibly have access to high-level information; what he knew was likely nothing but street gossip—worth hearing, but whether it was true, he'd have to verify himself.

With this in mind, Feng Xue inquired about the location of the pawnshop. But upon learning the county had a money house, he immediately abandoned the pawnshop and exchanged his gold beans for a mix of paper bills and coins.

Though he could have easily sold the dozen or so watches in his pocket for a high price at a pawnshop, given his low risk tolerance, he chose the safer money house—even if only marginally safer.

…

"Boss, how much for a baked bun?" With money in his pocket, Feng Xue approached a breakfast stall. The boss, initially impatient, was about to gesture toward the sign and tell him to look for himself—but upon seeing Feng Xue's attire, distinct from ordinary commoners, he instantly changed his expression and smiled.

"Answering the young master, plain baked buns are one cash for two. Buttered ones come sweet or salty—one cash each. I also have some braised meat, chopped fine and stuffed inside—delicious! Just three cash per bun!"

"Then give me two buttered ones—one sweet, one salty." Feng Xue, having walked over ten kilometers since morning, immediately pulled out three coins and handed them over, while internally musing.

Though merely a small gesture, the boss's glance implied that literacy rates in this world were likely not low.

"I exchanged roughly ten grams of gold beans for fifteen guan—that is, fifteen thousand cash. Based on the bun price, gold is worth more than in modern times, but grain prices are grain prices; if it's luxury goods, the premium is probably worse. Still, overall, the economy seems relatively stable."

"Young master, one buttered bun is one cash! You've given too much." As Feng Xue pondered, the bun seller had already wrapped the buns and noticed the excess payment. He immediately spoke up. Feng Xue smiled.

"I've got a question for you. I heard there's a pharmacy run by an immortal family—could you tell me how to get there?"

He chose to visit this so-called immortal pharmacy first not for any special reason, but simply because it was a pharmacy. Pharmacies and clinics are inseparable; asking about his shortened lifespan there was surely better than approaching the funeral woman or the tombkeeper Daoist priest.

"How could I possibly charge you for such a small thing!" The bun seller handed him the buns and the one cash coin together, then pointed with his hand.

"Walk straight down this road—you'll see a small Western-style building selling foreign cosmetics. Very noticeable. Turn right at the cosmetics shop, and the second storefront is it! But Miss Lan dislikes people mentioning her family. If you're just buying medicine, fine—but if… cough, you understand what I mean!"

"Then boss, give me another buttered bun." Seeing the seller's knowing expression—clearly imagining all sorts of things—Feng Xue didn't bother correcting him. He took the two buns in hand but refused the coin. The seller laughed again, wrapped another bun in oil paper, and handed it over. Feng Xue walked away, eating as he went.

Whether due to having eaten two meals of compressed biscuits, the simple buttered bun tasted unexpectedly crisp. The tiny bit of malt sugar inside couldn't compare to modern sweeteners, yet it was strangely satisfying.

"The old man earlier, this bun seller too—it seems the county's folk customs really are simple and honest! Though, perhaps it's just because I don't look like an ordinary commoner."

Feng Xue glanced at his own parka. Though it bore no resemblance to nobility in his own understanding, to people of this era, it might well be worth more than the Western suit worn by that Qin young master.

As he walked and ate, Feng Xue's expression grew oddly puzzled.

He'd seen the small Western-style building—but "foreign cosmetics"…

"Well, well—perfume and foundation are called 'foreign cosmetics'?" Looking at the wooden sign bearing six large characters: "Mei Lan Sha Foreign Cosmetics," Feng Xue nearly wanted to complain. But first—

"Mei Lan Sha? Is that the Mei Lansha who makes essential oils and incense? Do they sell foundation now? Translation error? Or a subtle parallel-world coincidence?"

(End of Chapter)