Chapter 2543: Non‑Human: Xiao Chen

The night was dark and heavy; beside the bustling road where traffic flowed like a woven cloth, a figure that stood out starkly from the surrounding noise sat, somewhat gloomily…

He sat on a small plastic horse.

In front of him was a barbecue stall full of lively, smoky aroma.

The scent of cumin and charcoal mixed with the night's dampness, permeating the air.

Jin Chen wore a well‑tailored, gloomy black coat; sitting before this stall brimming with market‑life vigor, he looked like a supermodel who had wandered into a vegetable market—strangely mismatched yet oddly harmonious.

The barbecue stall's owner, a worldly middle‑aged uncle, glanced at him, feeling no disturbance and even a bit amused.

No matter if you're a celebrity big shot, once you're on his turf, you'll be conquered by his skewers!

He skillfully turned the meat skewers in his hand; oil dripped onto the charcoal, sizzling, and the aroma grew richer.

In the sea of consciousness, Ling Gun Gun tilted its little head, full of doubt and longing.

"Host, are you craving barbecue? Actually I… *slurp*."

It stared at the glossy, chili‑powder‑dusted skewers, its mouth almost watering.

Jin Chen fell silent for a moment.

Then, expressionlessly, he pulled Ling Gun Gun out, placed it in his palm, and kneaded it wantonly.

Ling Gun Gun: "! Ah‑mu… Oh‑pu‑pu‑pu‑pu——"

It was being kneaded so hard its form could barely hold together.

After much effort, it tapped Jin Chen's finger with its tiny paw, puffing up angrily and asking, "What are you doing! Host, what are you doing!"

Jin Chen stopped the kneading; his gray pupils, under the barbecue stall's dim yellow light, looked somewhat profound.

"Why did I lose my memory?"

Ling Gun Gun: "!!!!"

It let out a yelp, sprang up, and dug its claws into Jin Chen's head, shouting, "My boss! Ancestor! Master! You've regained your memory?!"

"Do you know how I've been getting by these days! I, the mighty Pixiu, have worn my heart out for this family—boo‑hoo‑hoo‑hoo…"

Ling Gun Gun persisted in its "thunder without rain" crying style.

Jin Chen, whose head was buzzing from its noise: "……."

He regretted asking that question a little.

Ten minutes later.

Before the one person and one system's small table lay a variety of skewers, and they began to eat the barbecue solemnly.

Ling Gun Gun hugged a grilled mushroom larger than the little dough ball it had turned into, chewing happily while mumbling, "Burp~ You don't need to worry about any after‑effects!"

"The boss said you were merely over‑purified, temporarily amnesiac, not turned stupid by purification."

Jin Chen bit into a fragrant, char‑grilled kidney, but his chewing motion was somewhat slow.

The restored memories surged into his mind like a tide, recalling what he had done after losing his memory upon entering this little world, turning into the swamp's black mist…

The big shot's Waterloo.

Jin Chen's hand holding the skewer twitched, and a faint blush named "social death" appeared on his cold, pale face.

He wished he could just knock himself unconscious again to lose his memory.

Ling Gun Gun finished the mushroom, then gnawed a chicken leg, licked its paws with lingering desire, and patted Jin Chen's shoulder in brotherly fashion.

"All right, all right—look on the bright side: at least you didn't mistake your wife, although getting to know her… well, it was rather unusual."

It was a close call not to frighten the Main God into trouble.

Jin Chen kept a straight face, then reached out his demonic claw toward the oily‑faced little dough ball on his shoulder.

Ling Gun Gun: "Whoa!!"

Jin Chen had little appetite; after eating two or three skewers he set them down.

The whole table of barbecue disappeared into Ling Gun Gun's stomach.

Jin Chen glanced again at the stall owner, who eyed him tiger‑like, fearing he'd ditch the bill, and fell into silence.

A very practical problem surfaced in his still‑somewhat‑confused mind after he regained his memory.

He had no money.

The barbecue stall owner occasionally glanced over, his meaning shifting from "This handsome guy is a feast for the eyes" to "This guy won't try to dine and dash, will he?"

Jin Chen calmly patted the still‑burping Ling Gun Gun and said, "Pay up."

Ling Gun Gun: "?"

Ling Gun Gun was about to spit out gold coins, but recalled the boss's advice not to use spiritual power anymore, searched the system shop, and exclaimed.

"Oh! Found it! There's a small‑amount cash emergency exchange service! 500 points for 50 yuan!"

"Let me calculate… grilled kidney, lamb skewers, chicken wings, mushrooms, chives… Oh! Host, this meal comes to about 147 yuan, so you need to exchange 1500 points with me!"

Jin Chen: "……"

This black‑hearted Pixiu.

What a poor‑value barbecue meal.

Jin Chen stood up, to exchange, and proceeded calmly under the owner's increasingly wary gaze…

He pulled out two bills from the inside of his black coat.

He handed over a plain 150‑yuan note to the owner.

The owner stared for a moment, took the money, and returned three shiny steel coins.

He then watched the strange handsome guy in an expensive coat, who produced crumpled cash to pay for the barbecue, leave with a complex expression.

Jin Chen slipped the three steel coins into his pocket, followed the faint connection with Liang Yanzhe, and walked toward the restaurant.

——

Over at the restaurant, the private room's atmosphere was in full swing.

Liang Yanzhe maintained a proper, composed smile on his face while chatting and entertaining the representatives of the partner, but half of his mind had drifted away.

He still couldn't help worrying about Jin Chen, who had gone off alone to deal with the "trouble"; after all, although Jin Chen's abilities were uncanny, his mind was simple, and what if he encountered an even more difficult situation…

Liang Yanzhe secretly regretted not having thought earlier to give Jin Chen a cell phone.

That would be better than the current situation of no news at all, which is maddening.

After three rounds of drinks, when the conversation paused, Liang Yanzhe was absentmindedly rubbing his wine cup with his fingertips when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint black mist seeping in from under the door crack.

Liang Yanzhe's eyes brightened a bit, his hanging heart settled back into place, and he instinctively touched his wrist.

He set down his cup and said softly to Zhao Xitang at the head seat: "President Zhao, I'm stepping out to wash my hands."

Zhao Xitang was speaking with someone; hearing this, he nodded.

This restaurant is the area's top‑end private club, its décor exhausting the elegance of traditional Chinese style.

Even the restroom is spacious and clean, with a faint sandalwood scent burning, and the partitions are made of heavy solid wood.

Liang Yanzhe entered the restroom, confirmed no one else was inside, casually chose the innermost stall, went in, and locked the door behind him.

He touched his wrist and lowered his voice to call: "Jin Chen."