"Oh, come on! The master and mistress are at it again. They're hundreds of thousands of years old, and still acting like lovesick teenagers," Dugu Bo muttered, flipping a page of Introduction to Human Immunology under the dim lamplight.
He sighed again and closed the window quietly.
He'd long grown used to it.
On the surface, their relationship looked like that of predator and prey, but in reality, it was nothing like that.
The sweet, syrupy atmosphere between Cheng Yang and Bing Di could choke a man.
Even the frogs outside seemed embarrassed.
Still, he couldn't complain too much.
His master had been teaching him things that no one else on the continent even dreamed of.
In just a few days, Dugu Bo had grasped the basics of biology and memorized the entire periodic table.
He'd even started identifying materials by smell.
If nothing else, Cheng Yang's lessons were… revolutionary.
Cheng Yang, of course, had no idea his young apprentice grumbled behind his back.
To him, Dugu Bo was a model student, a fast learner with a sharp mind.
"If he doesn't become a genius researcher, he might turn into a mad scientist," Cheng Yang mused, half amused, half proud.
After finishing his latest project, Cheng Yang handed a newly made flintlock gun to Bing Di and patiently showed her how to shoot.
The Ice Emperor took to it surprisingly fast, and to Cheng Yang's mild horror, she loved it , a little too much.
"What about that musketeer thing you mentioned? Which one can shoot continuously and hit more accurately? Make that one next!"
Bing Di demanded, puffing up her chest proudly as she hung the flintlock on Cheng Yang's back like a toy.
Cheng Yang rubbed his temples.
"Yeah… about that. I want to make it, but I can't yet. I've got the blacksmith hammering out parts one by one, but even then, I have to polish and fit them myself. Mass production is impossible, and as for automatic firing…"
He shook his head.
"It's… complicated."
Bing Di pouted.
"You always brag about weapons that can 'destroy empires.' What happened to that?"
"It'll happen," Cheng Yang said with a small smile.
"I've already hired people to collect different ores. Once I find a uranium vein, the brilliance of the sun won't be far away."
Bing Di blinked.
"You and your weird words again."
"Relax," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"We've got time, a lot of it. Let's enjoy life for now. I just finished something new that makes fruit wine taste smoother. Come on, I'll let you try it!"
Bing Di gave him a suspicious look but followed anyway.
The last time he'd said that, she'd ended up addicted to hot pot.
Cheng Yang grinned secretly.
What Bing Di didn't realize was that his recent experiments had produced something valuable , glycerin, a by-product from soap-making.
Not only could it be used for medicine and explosives, but it also made fruit wine taste heavenly.
"Another small step toward civilization," he murmured.
That night, Bing Di drank glass after glass, happily calling it "juice" until she slumped onto the table, fast asleep.
He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek before heading back to his workshop.
The following days passed in a strangely peaceful rhythm.
Some days, Cheng Yang unveiled a new dish that left everyone speechless; other days, Dugu Bo's pet snake would sneak out and eat someone's frogs, causing chaos in the courtyard.
Once, Cheng Yang caught Dugu Bo dissecting a frog without even flinching.
The kid's expression didn't waver once as he named each organ.
Cheng Yang just stood there, mildly horrified and deeply impressed.
"Yup. Definitely going to turn into an Orochimaru someday," he muttered.
Meanwhile, the small shop grew busier by the day.
The popularity of kerosene lamps spread fast, and travelers and merchants came in droves to buy oil, turning the quiet little place into a bustling hub of activity.
Bing Di still preferred to roll around in piles of gold coins like a dragon hoarding treasure, forcing Cheng Yang to literally wash the coins with water before storing them again.
"Money's dirty," he complained one morning, scrubbing coins in a basin.
"You're supposed to save it, not sleep on it."
"It's comfortable!" Bing Di shouted from the pile, her voice muffled by coins.
Cheng Yang sighed.
"Yeah… civilization's going to take longer than I thought."
But despite his words, there was a warmth in his tone, the kind that came from a peaceful life he never thought he'd get to enjoy.
Not long after that, word spread through Tiandou City that Cheng Yang's little shop could solve any problem.
It all started with a curious cook
. One evening, he came to Cheng Yang, rubbing his hands nervously.
"Boss Cheng Yang, you sell everything here, lamps, oils, strange powders. So… do you have anything that makes food taste better?"
Cheng Yang paused mid-repair, thinking.
"Something to make food more delicious, huh? Come back in a few days."
Three days later, the cook returned, and Cheng Yang handed him a small pouch of white crystals.
He'd spent the time fermenting soybeans and wheat, carefully extracting sodium glutamate , MSG.
The purity wasn't perfect, but just a pinch could turn plain soup into a feast.
The cook tried it once and nearly cried.
"This… this is divine!"
Within a month, he'd become the most famous chef in Tiandou City, praised for his "miracle seasoning."
Of course, the glory didn't last.
Once Cheng Yang started selling MSG publicly, every chef could use it.
The poor man's fame crashed overnight, but he couldn't even bring himself to be angry.
"Well," he sighed, "I suppose that's fair."
And just like that, everyone began to treat Cheng Yang as if he were some kind of Doraemon in human form.
If something troubled them, they went straight to his door.
One man complained that his fruit wine tasted too sour.
Cheng Yang silently handed him a small vial of glycerin.
The man returned the next week, eyes wide with joy, swearing that his drink now sold twice as fast.
Another complained that winters were too cold, and thick cotton coats made him look like a snowman.
So Cheng Yang bought a few hundred ducks, designed a sketch, and hired tailors to make the first down jacket in Tiandou.
When the man tried it on, even Bing Di whistled.
"Looks warm and handsome," she said.
Then someone came saying, "The two-wheeled carriages can't carry enough goods. Any ideas?"
That was easy. Cheng Yang called his carpenters, drew up blueprints, and within a few days, the first four-wheeled wagon rolled through the streets, stable, strong, and big enough to carry an ox.
Of course, not every request was so… decent.
One evening, a red-faced man approached him quietly.
"Boss Cheng Yang," he whispered, glancing around, "what if a man doesn't want a child… while, uh, doing that?"
Cheng Yang froze mid-step, his face darkening.
Wordlessly, he grabbed a length of cleaned sheep intestine from the counter, tossed it at the man, and growled, "Take that and don't ever bring this kind of question here again."
The next day, a blushing woman showed up, clutching her skirt.
"Sir Cheng Yang… when the moon comes, and there's, um, too much… flow… is there something that can help?"
Cheng Yang nearly exploded.
"I'm running a shop, not a clinic!" he snapped.
But after a deep sigh and muttering something about equality, he handed her a small cloth bag filled with plant ash and soft fiber.
"Use this. And don't tell anyone where you got it."
"Y-yes, thank you!" she stammered, running off.
After that, his reputation skyrocketed.
Some called him a genius, others a Sage.
For the rich, he was a walking invention machine; for the poor, a strange but kind savior.
When a few laborers complained that coal was too expensive and hard to light, Cheng Yang taught them how to mix cinders and clay into easy-to-burn briquettes.
When farmers complained that their food was too bitter to eat, he laughed softly.
In the old country, we learned to make feasts out of weeds," he said.
Soon, he showed them how to turn fern roots and wild grains into dishes even Bing Di praised.
The Ice Emperor loved to tease him whenever crowds lined up outside.
"Look at you," she'd say, perched lazily on a counter, "acting all mysterious. You like the attention, don't you?"
Cheng Yang would smirk while stirring a new concoction.
"Attention brings money. Money brings comfort. Comfort brings more time to tinker."
From a corner, young Dugu Bo flipped through a chemistry notebook, muttering,
"More like attention brings headaches."
But deep down, even he admired his teacher.
Because in Tiandou City, there was no longer a problem too small or strange; as long as Cheng Yang was around, someone always had hope.
And little by little, the shop that sold "everything" became something greater, a beacon for dreamers, fools, and geniuses alike.
-------------
Author's Note:
Do you want to read 25+ Chapters ahead right now?
Stop waiting. Come over to the dark side. We have cookies, advanced chapters, and a very, very detailed 'plot.'
patreon.com/
Dark_sym