"Looks like heatstroke to me," someone in the crowd offered confidently.
That sparked a wave of agreement.
Others chimed in—maybe it was some other illness. But really, who cared?
Xu Zheng sure didn't.
He bolted straight for the back kitchen.
When he reappeared, he held a steaming cup of something… viscous. Black-red. Thick as motor oil. Smelled like burning rubber and spicy regret.
People instinctively recoiled, pinching their noses.
"What the hell is that?!"
"Medicine," Xu Zheng replied calmly.
Technically, it was medicine—if the goal was to commit war crimes.
This was one of Xiangling's "experimental chili milk teas" from earlier that morning. Specifically, the worst one. The kind of concoction that violated the Geneva Convention. Xu Zheng had tried to pour it into the soil earlier, and even the weeds died at light speed. It had the same effect as industrial herbicide.
The red-faced man laying on the ground? Eyes shut, still faking unconsciousness like a pro.
But the moment that lethal aroma hit his nostrils, something in his soul trembled.
No way… he's not actually going to make me drink this, right?
…Right?
He didn't dare move. His life depended on his acting.
Xu Zheng approached with the chili death brew and knelt beside him. No reaction.
Xu Zheng nodded with approval.
"Damn. Respect. This guy's fully committed to the bit."
And since there was no objection…
He began pouring the "medicine" down the man's throat.
The guy's teammates—also in disguise among the crowd—exchanged horrified glances.
This dude was really going all in.
Boss must've paid him a fortune.
But at what cost?! No amount of mora is worth this liquid suicide.
The stuff looked like tar and smelled like Satan's armpit.
If they had to choose between drinking this or actual sewage, they'd pick sewage every time.
But the poor bastard on the ground didn't know any of that.
One of his teammates gave him a subtle kick.
"Abort! It's not worth it, bro!"
He took it as encouragement.
"Thanks, brothers. I'll hold on. I'll survive. Just one more sip… just one…"
He could already guess what was about to go in his mouth. He'd tasted the drinkable version of Xiangling's chili milk tea this morning.
This wasn't that.
As the thick, black-red sludge entered his mouth and slid down his throat, he saw God.
No—he saw every mistake he had ever made.
His mouth burned. His esophagus convulsed. His stomach clenched like it was being strangled.
Every organ in his body howled in protest.
He swore the stuff was burning through his intestines.
"You sons of bitches," he screamed silently, "Why didn't you call it off?!"
Time slowed.
His life flashed before his eyes.
Age 3: Peeped on the neighbor auntie while she was bathing.
Age 7: Made the neighbor's kid sister cry.
Age 10: Hid a dead rat in the teacher's office.
Age 11: Stole snacks from the corner shop.
Age 12: Got beat up, patched up by that same kid sister.
Age 13: Got beat up again.
Age 14: Also beat up.
Age 15: Finally won a fight—against a 7-year-old.
Age 16: Ran away from home.
Age 17: Went broke.
"Damn… I've never done anything good in my life…"
He closed his eyes peacefully. But inside, he screamed with regret.
If I get another chance… I wanna be a good person. Marry that little neighbor girl. Be a proper husband. Make my parents proud. Be a useful member of society…
In that moment, his body surged with newfound energy.
The pain was transcendent. The milk tea wasn't even tea anymore—it was lava with a hint of dairy.
With a sudden scream, he sat bolt upright.
The crowd jumped.
"HOLY SHIT."
The man staggered to his feet, face black and red, now matching the drink's color palette.
Without a word, he sprinted to the kitchen, dove face-first into the water vat, and began chugging.
Xu Zheng blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
"Damn. He drank the whole thing. Lived. And ran off to drink more?"
The onlookers fell into stunned silence.
No one could process what they'd just seen.
First the man was dying, then he was reborn—like a phoenix risen from hell-spice.
The crowd was floored.
Not only was Xu Zheng a cooking prodigy, but now he was apparently some kind of miracle doctor too?
The logic didn't matter. The results were clear:
Xu Zheng had brought someone back from the brink… and made him more alive than before.
People were shook.
They began comparing themselves to him—and fell into despair.
When I was his age, I was proud of doing single-digit math. This kid? He's making gourmet meals and saving lives with spicy poison.
If I were a girl… I'd be throwing myself at him right now.
Suddenly, a thought struck many of them.
This kid… this unpolished gem… is still single!
We might not be able to marry him… but we've got daughters!
"Xu Zheng! My daughter's super cute! I'll bring her by sometime, alright?"
Xu Zheng turned his head slowly, confused.
Why was this man pitching his daughter like a vacuum salesman?
Still, confusion wasn't a reason to be rude—he smiled politely.
That one smile sent the crowd into a frenzy.
"He didn't say no! That's a maybe! That's a win!"
Suddenly everyone started pitching their daughters like it was speed dating.
"My girl's got legs for days—198cm! I'll bring her next week!"
"Me me me! I'm soft, sweet, and easy to pin down—handsome, won't you take a look at me?"
One bold young lady shoved through the crowd and tried to cop a feel.
Things went off the rails fast.
A man shouted, "What about boys?! Little Xu Zheng, you can take a peek at me too!"
"Little Xu Zheng, wanna try a big sister with a housewife kink?" someone else offered cheerily.