Chapter 44: Yu Doesn't Eat Fish, Jiang Hu's Talisman

Taoyuan Square, the night was dim.

“Fanfan, good morning!”

As soon as he entered, Wen He held out a freshly brewed cup of coffee and smiled sweetly at Zhang Fan.

“Wen-jie, that was He Fei just now—what did he come here for?” Zhang Fan leaned in, unable to resist asking.

“Negotiating business… He ordered the iron pot ash we bought earlier.”

As she spoke, Wen He glanced at Jiang Hu beside her.

“By the way, Boss says add twenty jin of carbon powder.”

“Huh!?” Zhang Fan froze.

How much does carbon powder cost per jin? Jiang Hu’s iron pot ash sells for five thousand yuan per jin—twenty jin of carbon powder equals a pure profit of one hundred thousand yuan.

“This… is a bit conscienceless…”

“Boss says, if you lose money, you can earn it back; but if you lose your conscience, you’ll earn even more…” Wen He patted Jiang Hu’s head: “Remember to follow through.”

“Damn, that’s ruthless,” Zhang Fan muttered to himself.

“Wen-jie, I heard the He family’s business is huge—why would He Fei come in person just to buy pot ash?” Zhang Fan said casually.

“He has a company in Taoyuan Square—on the thirteenth floor…” Wen He smiled.

“A slimming and aesthetic clinic called ‘Sow,’ business is booming—his monthly profit equals our entire company’s annual income…”

“Sow? Thirteenth floor?” Zhang Fan pondered.

Wang Tiantian works on the thirteenth floor.

“He just dropped by today…”

Here, Wen He patted Zhang Fan’s head, as if seeing through his thoughts, and reassured him gently: “Fanfan, don’t worry—Old Yu’s messes are invisible to everyone.”

“Good!”

Zhang Fan exhaled, then turned to Yu Fu: “Old Yu, I’m treating you to lunch today—there’s a new place downstairs serving spicy pepper fish head. Want to go?”

The moment he spoke, the entire office fell into deathly silence. Wen He stared blankly at Zhang Fan; Jiang Hu wore a strange expression…

As for Old Yu, his eyes bulged, he shot Zhang Fan a furious glare, dropped the newspaper he was reading, let out a cold snort, rose from his desk, and walked out the company door.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Zhang Fan looked bewildered, glancing between Wen He and Jiang Hu.

“I forgot to tell you…”

Wen He looked apologetic, whispering: “Old Yu doesn’t eat fish…”

“Huh!?” Zhang Fan blinked, as if not processing it.

“What does that mean?”

“Taboo… Old Yu doesn’t just avoid fish—he won’t even tolerate anyone mentioning it. No spicy pepper fish head, no squirrel-shaped mandarin fish, no scallion-braised yellow croaker, no crispy fried flounder, no spicy fish scales… none of it.” Wen He swallowed hard.

“Old Yu has this taboo? But he reacted so strongly…” Zhang Fan frowned, muttering.

“It’s fine—ignorance is no crime. I’ll tell Old Yu later,” Wen He comforted him gently.

Zhang Fan nodded, but his peripheral vision caught Jiang Lai’s seat empty.

“Wen-jie, where’s Jiang Lai?”

“Oh, she took the day off,” Wen He said casually.

“Took the day off? Where does she live?”

Before Zhang Fan finished asking, Jiang Hu tugged his sleeve: “You just met your senior—why are you still thinking about Jiang Lai? Is that appropriate?”

“How do you know?” Zhang Fan asked, surprised.

“Hehe, I saw you both chatting in the lobby—I didn’t dare say hello.”

Jiang Hu wiggled his eyebrows and grinned: “Well?”, “What do you mean, ‘well’? I just asked for her name.” Zhang Fan snorted, walked to his desk, and sat down.

“What ‘how was it’? I just asked her name.” Zhang Fan rolled his eyes, walked to his desk, and sat down.

“People are greedy. At first you wanted to know your sister’s name, then you wanted to know how she called you.” Jiang Hu looked utterly unconvinced.

“People are greedy. First you want to know the sister’s name; then you want to know how she calls you.” Jiang Hu looked unconvinced.

“You’re really not human.” Zhang Fan gave a knowing smile, instantly understanding.

“You’re really not human,” Zhang Fan chuckled, instantly understanding.

“Listen to me—cultivators must avoid lust. Never trust a woman’s words, even if sometimes it feels good…” Jiang Hu spoke solemnly.

“You’re really a Daoist?” Zhang Fan glanced at Jiang Hu with a strange expression.

“Now I understand why you were expelled from your sect.”

“Where did you train in a Daoist temple?” Zhang Fan was especially curious—what famous mountain temple could produce someone like Jiang Hu? “I… oh, Wen-jie—weren’t you asking me to draw a [Transforming Food Talisman] for you a while back?”

Jiang Hu abruptly changed the subject.

Daoist talismans number in the thousands; the [Transforming Food Talisman] is one of them, said to be pasted on the belly so one can eat endlessly without gaining weight.

Another use: cut off your index fingernail, burn it with the talisman, mix the ash into well water, and drink it—without exercise or dieting, you’ll lose thirty jin in a month.

Zhang Fan had once read about this talisman in the [Secret Dao Records].

“Really that miraculous?”

“The Alchemy Text says human appetite is controlled by the index finger. The [Transforming Food Talisman] suppresses appetite, stimulates insulin secretion, lowers blood sugar, reduces gastric emptying, and increases satiety—thus achieving weight loss…”

“Huh!?”

Zhang Fan paused—the beginning sounded scientific, but the later parts grew increasingly dubious! “Wen-jie, I’ll give you a discount?”

“No thanks, Little Gourd—your talismans are… hard to describe. I’ll buy one when you finally learn to make them properly,” Wen He smirked, her smile polite but measured.

Jiang Hu had trained in talismans since childhood, but Wen He had privately told him his path had gone awry, making his talismans unreliable—sometimes working, sometimes failing, occasionally causing accidents.

For example, he once drew a [Ghost-Averting Talisman] for a client—meant to repel spirits and demons when pasted on the door—but the client used it, and all the demons and ghosts within ten li came flocking…

The company had to pay a huge compensation.

“To stay slim, I’d rather go to ‘Sow’—they have a slimming oil that’s incredibly effective…”

Whenever beauty and skincare were mentioned, every woman’s eyes lit up with the same glow.

“Fanfan, want to come with me to check it out at lunch?” Wen He said casually: “Your senior works on the thirteenth floor too, right?”

“How do you know that?” Zhang Fan froze.

“Hulu told me—everyone in the company knows!”

“… ”

Zhang Fan turned to Jiang Hu, who grinned awkwardly.

“No thanks, I won’t go,” Zhang Fan shook his head.

That was the He family’s company—he’d done something shameful, turned their sister into a vegetable; better to keep his distance.

“Don’t worry—the He family will never notice us,” Wen He walked over, patted Zhang Fan’s head, and reassured him gently.

…

At this moment, on the thirteenth floor.

In contrast to the shabby Night Dim, the entire floor belonged to the Sow Aesthetic Technology Company. In the lobby, many overweight or dark-skinned women waited, while dedicated attendants listened one-on-one to clients’ needs.

In the innermost office, He Fei sat at his desk, where several photos lay—clearly depicting the staff of Night Dim…

“Zhang Fan!”

He Fei picked up one photo—clearly showing Zhang Fan’s face.

(End of Chapter)