Chapter 533: I Have Always Been Myself

“You call me what?”

Feng Baobao’s gaze turned dangerous; her pale hand gripped the air as if seizing something.

“Sis Bao, I meant it’s been ages since I saw you!”

Zhang Chulan, feeling the death star above his head glowing brightly, instantly corrected himself and began calling her “Sis Bao” like Zhang Jie did.

“That’s more like it.”

Feng Baobao nodded in satisfaction and stopped her motion.

Zhang Jie, watching from the side, broke into a cold sweat: if Zhang Chulan had delayed his correction by even a second,

Sis Bao’s Gangbeng 0.01 would’ve already been swinging at him.

No, this 0.01 isn’t some family planning product for Sis Bao—it’s her main weapon, a kitchen knife.

It’s called 0.01 because its blade is absurdly thin,

and when infused with Qi, it becomes unbearably sharp, able to slip through gaps with no thickness, just like the butcher who dissects oxen.

Okay, Zhang Jie felt he couldn’t take this anymore.

Naming the knife “0.01” was purely Xu Si’s twisted sense of humor.

That guy even exploited Sis Bao’s innocence, teaching her the Eighteen Styles of A-Wei—utterly inhuman!

From Xu Xiang, the old patriarch, down to his sons Xu San and Xu Si—the utterly unscrupulous pair—all of them are Feng Baobao’s yes-men.

Among them, Xu Xiang and Xu San were more reserved; Xu Si, that bastard, was wildly unrestrained,

taking advantage of Sis Bao’s innocent, childlike nature to fill her head with all sorts of inappropriate knowledge.

Only because Feng Baobao is truly pure of heart, untouched by the world, could she remain uncorrupted by such information,

otherwise, Zhang Jie suspected he’d punch Xu Si straight into the sky the moment he saw him.

…

“Welcome to Naidu Tong.”

Feng Baobao solemnly welcomed Zhang Chulan.

“Th-thank you.”

Zhang Chulan returned the greeting awkwardly.

He still wasn’t used to this crazy woman’s sudden change.

“Did your grandfather ever tell you about the past?

Like my origins, where my family is?”

As soon as her relationship with Zhang Chulan began to ease, Feng Baobao couldn’t help but bombard him with questions,

her little mouth firing like a fully automatic machine gun, each query a continuous barrage.

“I… I don’t know any of that. My grandfather told me nothing.”

Zhang Chulan awkwardly scratched his head.

His grandfather Zhang Xilin had hidden his identity so thoroughly,

most of what Zhang Chulan knew now came from Zhang Jie and Xu San.

Yet he bore no resentment—after all, the more you know, the more dangerous it becomes.

Isn’t “You know too much!” one of the most common reasons for murder?

“Oh, I see.”

Feng Baobao looked disappointed by the answer but didn’t press further.

“Sis Bao actually believes that?”

Zhang Chulan, who had prepared a whole speech, felt like he’d thrown a powerful punch

into cotton—or empty air—with no resistance.

“Sis Bao has a pure heart by nature; she can tell lies apart.”

Zhang Jie raised an eyebrow and explained to the clueless Zhang Chulan.

Though Sis Bao is naive and ignorant of the world, she has lived safely for years

and still holds her position as a temporary worker in Naidu Tong’s North China District,

not only thanks to the full support of the Xu family led by Xu Xiang, but also due to her own extraordinary ability.

Of course, if she encounters something she wants to believe—like a red glass bead claimed to be “a celestial artifact, a string of red Liuli , forged from the spirit crystal of a ten-thousand-year fire qilin after my ancestor fought it for eighty thousand rounds!”—then there’s nothing you can do.

“She has this kind of ability?!!”

She chose to believe it was like that red glass bead artwork, made by extracting its spirit crystal—so there was nothing to be done.

So does that mean he’s as exposed as naked before someone like Feng Baobao?

The world of cultivators doesn’t seem so easy to navigate after all!

“Don’t worry, don’t worry—as long as you’re not deliberately deceiving Bao Bao, she won’t find out.”

Xu San knew everyone would fear this ability of Feng Baobao’s,

after all, who doesn’t have a few secrets they’d never admit?

He spoke to defuse the tension: “Judge actions, not intentions; judge intentions and no one is flawless.”

After all, who among us doesn’t have a few things they can’t admit?

Learning that Feng Baobao’s ability had limits, Zhang Chulan finally relaxed a little.

“Bao Bao, come sit over here.”

Having calmed the agitated Zhang Chulan, Xu San immediately fussed over Feng Baobao.

“This…”

Zhang Chulan’s eyes darted between Xu San and Feng Baobao.

Though he was a virgin who’d never dated, his vast theoretical knowledge told him

that these two—especially that well-dressed, cultured scoundrel—had ulterior motives.

Feng Baobao, with her pure heart, had no such thoughts,

and took the tea Xu San offered with perfect ease, sitting casually on the corner of the sofa.

After sipping a few mouthfuls, her gaze drifted to the relaxed Zhang Jie.

“You seem a bit different, kid?”

Feng Baobao studied Zhang Jie up and down, her eyes filled with suspicion.

“You kid seems a bit different now, huh?”

Feng Baobao sized up Zhang Jie, her eyes filled with suspicion.

Though Zhang Jie sat casually on the sofa, she felt an overwhelming sense of rightness,

as if it had always been this way—like water flowing downhill, or tired birds returning to their nests.

“Why would I be different? I’ve always been me.”

Zhang Jie smiled faintly in reply.

No matter how he changed, he remained Zhang Jie.

He wasn’t like Dongzi, who denied yesterday’s self today, and tomorrow’s self denies today’s—constantly shifting, locked in internal battles.

Dongzi might affirm yesterday’s self, but Dongzi affirming yesterday’s self is unlikely;

tomorrow’s Dongzi might affirm today’s self, but tomorrow’s Dongzi affirming today’s self is unlikely…

“True. You’ve always been you, never changed.”

Feng Baobao, with her innocent gaze, nodded slightly.

Though her intuition told her Zhang Jie was different now,

she was certain: today’s Zhang Jie was yesterday’s Zhang Jie.

“What change? Who am I?”

Zhang Chulan was utterly baffled, unable to comprehend.

Had the conversation among cultivators evolved to this level of obscurity?

Only when he caught Xu San’s similarly confused expression out of the corner of his eye did he quietly exhale.

It wasn’t that he was falling behind the times, about to be abandoned by the train of progress—

it was that he simply couldn’t keep up with the bizarre, incomprehensible minds of Zhang Jie and Feng Baobao.

“Today is a great day—Chulan has joined us at Naidu Tong! Let’s celebrate!”

To strengthen Zhang Chulan’s sense of belonging, Xu San proposed.

It was that Zhang Jie and Feng Baobao—two powerful oddities whose thoughts he couldn’t follow.

Zhang Jie had no objection.

“That’s too much trouble.”

Zhang Chulan, who had always stood apart from the group and never received such treatment, nervously rubbed his hands.

Feng Baobao’s large, clear eyes widened: “Go if I tell you to go!”

“Yes, yes.”

For some reason, before Feng Baobao, Zhang Chulan felt utterly powerless, as if naturally inferior.

In the end, unable to understand why, he blamed himself.

"Yes, yes."

For some reason, in Feng Baobao’s presence, Zhang Chulan could never muster any assertiveness, as if he were naturally shorter by a head.

In the end, having pondered it endlessly without resolution, he could only blame himself.

Fear of this reckless, disruptive old shrew.