Chapter Eighteen: The Tool Has Arrived
Last night, Xia Mengsi managed to get another free meal at Wang Xiao’s place.
That wasn’t the real point, though. The real question was: why was Little Bone so warm and friendly toward her? I’m supposed to be your master here.
Xia Mengsi, ever carefree, shamelessly posted a photo of last night’s dinner in the regional channel.
The jealousy from everyone else was palpable.
“Envy is splitting my soul in two.”
“My mom asks why I’m drooling over a picture.”
“I looked at the bread in my hand—is this even fit for humans?”
“I’m about to forget how to use chopsticks; please teach me!”
“You’re all focusing on the food—didn’t you notice the house in the background?”
“Comparisons are the root of misery.”
…
Wang Xiao was up early today—early birds catch the worm.
Oh, Little Bone was already up.
The mat beside the bed was empty; Little Bone was nowhere to be found.
“Where has that little rascal wandered off to?” Wang Xiao stretched and stepped outside the Bone House.
Tiny seedlings peeked up here and there, and the greenhouse echoed with soft snores.
And then, was that a tent…?
Wang Xiao entered the greenhouse. The sight of the tent made him laugh in exasperation.
He didn’t feel right about opening it up, so he shouted, “Xia Mengsi! Wake up!”
No response.
You can never wake someone who’s pretending to sleep, unless you know their weakness.
“Xia Mengsi, breakfast time!”
Hmm? No effect. Looks like it’s time to pull out the real tricks.
Wang Xiao turned away in search of Little Bone.
Just then, Little Bone appeared at the door. The moment it saw Wang Xiao, it dashed straight back into the Bone House.
“Aha, so you’re here.” Wang Xiao entered and found Little Bone sprawled on its mat, pretending to sleep.
“Come on, Little Bone, stop playing. Time to cook. I saw you just now.”
Little Bone knew the gig was up and quickly got up to start preparing breakfast.
…
“Want some?” Wang Xiao looked at Xia Mengsi, taunting.
Xia Mengsi swallowed hard and replied, “I’m not hungry.”
Grrrr.
Perfect—the very next second she contradicted herself.
“Ah, I’m so full, I can’t eat another bite,” Wang Xiao said, eyeing the bowl of lean meat congee left on the table.
“So, what do you think? Ready to surrender?”
“Hmph! I, Xia Mengsi, would rather die than give in!”
Wang Xiao sighed, “A shame to waste such good food. Guess I’ll have to throw it out.”
He shook his head and began to tidy up.
“Alright!”
“What?! What did you say?” Wang Xiao asked.
Xia Mengsi stomped her foot. “I said I accept.”
“Didn’t you just say you’d rather die than surrender?”
But Xia Mengsi ignored him; food mattered most.
She scooped up a bowl of congee and dove in, devouring it with fried dough sticks.
A cheerful breakfast passed.
“Okay, from today, you’re my employee,” Wang Xiao said.
Xia Mengsi stood silently, not objecting.
“Laundry, sweeping, farm chores—you’re in charge now.”
Xia Mengsi pointed at Little Bone. “And what about it?”
“Come on, it’s just a kid.”
Ha! Who are you kidding? You make it cook every day, and you’re telling me it’s just a kid?
Wang Xiao caught the meaning in her look and grinned, “Or do you want to cook?”
Ha! If I could cook, would I even be in this predicament?
“You sure you want me to? You might not survive tomorrow’s mist.”
“Alright, never mind,” Wang Xiao said.
He assigned Xia Mengsi a room, right next to his own.
After all, she was quite the beauty—a pleasant sight every morning, despite her silly quirks.
Plus, he could put her to work—his income just increased.
While others were worrying about how to survive another day, Wang Xiao was already plotting how to live more comfortably.
With Xia Mengsi on board, he’d let her do all the box-opening tasks.
She was, after all, blessed with extraordinary luck.
When Xia Mengsi heard about her new room, she nearly jumped for joy.
Finally, she could have her own little nest.
Inside, she was thrilled, but outwardly, she maintained a calm, matter-of-fact demeanor.
…
As the mist continued to dissipate, people’s range of activity grew larger.
Some began to form teams, with groups now numbering in the dozens.
It was becoming a trend, and would only become more pronounced.
With more space to move, new possibilities opened up.
Wang Xiao saw it coming—the era of lone wolves was ending.
Who knew what monsters would appear in the future?
Even dragons had turned up early on.
Wang Xiao wouldn’t be surprised to meet gods or demons.
He needed to recruit a group of high-level players.
His first targets were those he’d teamed up with before.
“Yang Ming, are you there?”
Seconds later, a reply came.
“I’m here.”
“Where are you?”
“Something up?”
“I want you to join us.”
“No.”
“…”
“I did save your life, you know.”
“No.”
“That’s how you treat your savior?”
“No.”
“Come on, give me a little face.”
“No.”
“…”
So aloof? This was going to be tough.
Wang Xiao tried again: “There are benefits.”
“What kind of benefits?”
“…”
So pragmatic?
Wang Xiao sent Yang Ming the photo Xia Mengsi had posted yesterday.
“Food… does that count?”
After a long pause, Yang Ming finally replied.
“Alright.”
Just like that? So my face is worth less than a meal.
“I’ll trade you something,” Wang Xiao said.
Without waiting for a reply, he sent over a locator.
[Locator: Allows travel to the designated location from anywhere.]
After a moment, Yang Ming arrived.
Wang Xiao was about to greet him, but Yang Ming spoke first.
“Where’s the food?”
“…”
Wang Xiao quietly withdrew his awkward hand and ran a hand through his hair.
Seriously, that’s the first thing you say?
He summoned Little Bone, who was crouched in the corner, to prepare a meal.
Wang Xiao didn’t notice Yang Ming’s shock—well, with hair that long, he wouldn’t have seen it anyway.
The vegetables in the fields, the cattle and sheep in the greenhouse—this was a steady supply of food.
Yang Ming hadn’t tasted real food in ages. The reason was simple: he couldn’t cook.
Not even roasted meat—he was even more hopeless than Xia Mengsi.
Yang Ming set up his wooden cabin next to the Bone House.
He would settle here from now on.
Yang Ming’s cabin wasn’t as big or luxurious as Wang Xiao’s Bone House.
But not everyone could own such a cabin—the materials came from a tree called steelwood.
Yang Ming liked the minimalist style.
He also wasn’t used to sharing living space with others.
He’d grown accustomed to solitude; his only regret was never learning to cook properly.