In a room barely 10 square meters, a desk and a bed stood against opposite walls, leaving just enough space for a person to sit. A makeshift wardrobe in the corner completed the room's entirety.
There were no windows, and the air felt stifling. The yellowing walls were cracked like spiderwebs, some patches already peeling, carrying a faint dampness.
Kris sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through a thin booklet with a yellow cover, about the size of an ordinary book.
"Smack!"
Impatient, he soon tossed the booklet onto the desk. What nonsense!
Kris lay back on the bed, playing with his phone, but his mind couldn't help replaying the scene from before he returned home:
After graduating from university, he'd been delivering food, weaving through the city's streets. His only hobby was the legendary cultivation of immortality, even enjoying novels about it.
Tonight, after finishing a few deliveries in a neighborhood, he'd bumped into an old beggar at the exit. The man's hair was white and disheveled, draped over his shoulders, and his body was filthy. He grabbed Kris, refusing to let go.
"Young man, I see your bones are extraordinary, a once-in-a-lifetime martial arts prodigy. I have a secret manual destined for you."
"Hiss..."
Kris looked at the Buddha's Palm shoved into his face and sucked in a cold breath. Does he think I've never seen a kung fu movie? Don't distract me from my deliveries!
Impatient, he tried to shake the old man off, but despite his age, the beggar's grip was surprisingly strong.
"Wait, young hero, this one isn't suitable. I have another..."
With a flourish, the old man produced several more books like a deck of cards.
"Dude, are you straight-up copying movie scams?!"
Kris's mind screamed, but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to one of the books.
Noticing this, the beggar smiled mysteriously and announced loudly:
"Young hero, you have excellent taste. This art was passed down from Lao Ai, capable of topping the heavens and standing firm. At its highest cultivation, one can command a thousand..."
"Okay, okay, stop, stop." Kris, embarrassed, quickly interrupted.
The beggar pulled out a QR code, squinting and chuckling, "Hehehe, 88 yuan each, WeChat or Alipay works."
"Dude, why don't you just rob me?"
The beggar immediately replied, "Young hero, you have excellent taste. This art was passed down from Lao Ai, at its highest cultivation..."
"Stop, stop, stop." Kris quickly scanned the code, bought the book, and stuffed it into his backpack.
Seeing the payment go through, the beggar laughed heartily and recited a poem:
"Rootless tree, flowers in solitude, ask if yin and yang can align.
Hen's egg, cannot hatch chicks, defying the yin-yang furnace..."
Kris's toes curled in embarrassment, feeling the stares around him. He hurriedly started his motorcycle and sped off.
The beggar's voice still echoed from behind:
"Rootless tree, flowers skewed, without yin and yang, the path is incomplete.
Gold separates wood, mercury separates lead, lone yin and yang on either side..."
Thinking back, Kris sighed. He'd been too hasty; such a simple scam shouldn't have fooled him. Reality couldn't possibly have real cultivation methods.
Glancing at the time—11:30 PM—Kris got up to wash up.
On the desk, the thin booklet lay quietly, its cover facing up, revealing the title: The Mirror of Wind and Moon.
After washing up, Kris stripped down and got into bed, about to turn off the lamp. He hesitated, looking at the book on the desk.
"Ah, whatever, I already bought it."
He picked up the booklet and began reading in bed.
Soon, the room filled with soft snoring. Kris, face covered by the book, fell into a deep sleep.