The chair indeed could work, although quite slowly. He dragged himself into it, ignoring all the long-tongued women and imps screeching at him from a distance. The wounds on his body stopped bleeding before long, and the excruciating pain on his leg began fading. It took a total of what felt like more than two hours before he could actually move his limbs and continue his plan - of moving the chair into his father's house.
It took a while, but he did it. The chair was in the first floor living room. Wu Xiaoming looked around, and it did not seem like there was an optimal place to place it - he simply did not know anything about Fengshui. For the longest time, it was just a combination of superstition and status symbol to him - only the rich guys with time, connection and money would hire "masters" to help them organize their houses. For a normal worker like himself, it would be a challenge just to find a place to live.
Rich guys with time, connection and money, that would be his father and older brother. And this was the first floor living room, there was a long sofa right here. So, he pulled and pushed the wide chair, adjusting its position. After around ten minutes, he finally fitted the chair in the same position as the long living room sofa.
A pleasant ring came from the chair, as well as the entire house. He let out a long sigh and sat on it, sensing and measuring its healing and soothing power. It was definitely boosted by a little. But what was most obvious, was the strength of the aura protecting this house. He peeked through the front window, it seemed that those imps and long-tongued women were pushed further away.
Maybe it was time to call it a night. Wu Xiaoming laid flat on the chair, took a deep breath and fell asleep. It was the first time he ever did so in the ethereal realm.
Wu Xiaoming woke up refreshed the next morning, to breezy wind and bird songs.
Current currencies: 10252 Spirit Fragments, 68 Vision Slivers. The three additional Vision Slivers were from the paint pitbull. His experience was also only a small chunk away from level 8. Though, the additional skill point would probably be useless - the next skill he would like to assign was the first skill in the Taoist Tree.
Affinity: increases or grants spirit resource; improves ability to sense energy and see hidden traces of evil spirits; Grant skill: Basic Golden Light Spell.
Spirit resource, which was basically their own version of mana. And Basic Golden Light Spell, would be a set of spells conjuring golden light energy. Similar to "Law of the Words" active skill from the Confucianist Tree, it covers ranged attack, defence and other utilities like lighting up a room. The only difference was that using these spells would cost spirit, as opposed to using his own stamina. But to gain this skill, he needed to finish Tao Te Ching first. It was only five thousand Mandarin words, so he could very well finish it today.
The wide red wood chair did bring another issue to his mind: in the game he was a part developing, there was a "hub area" for the player, basically an absolute safe house where they could buy stuff from merchants, heal and upgrade their equipment. It would be the area where the currencies were spent. For Spirit Fragments, he understood that it would serve as his "life" in this world. But for Vision Slivers, he had no way of using it now.
Another important point would be he would very much like a way to repair his equipment if possible. After many uses, some spikes on the morningstars began to dull. And the Rusted Grim Enchanted Sword was not in a good state to begin with, it would surely be a waste if he broke it in battle due to lack of maintenance.
Walking into the kitchen, somewhat hungry, there was nothing he could eat without cooking, so he took out the easiest things to cook he could think of: two eggs, big ones, and one tomato.
It's been a while since he last cooked scrambled eggs with tomatoes, but it was his go-to dish, so hopefully his muscle memory - his "soul memory" would still hold.
Having whisked the egg and heated up the expensive looking no-stick pan and olive oil, he simply poured the egg in. While he waited for the bottom of the egg to solidify, he cut up a few spring onions and sprinkled them into the egg.
He stirred it a few times and poured the egg out while it was almost fully cooked. Then he reheated the pan with additional oil and stir fried the tomatoes. When the tomatoes were half cooked, he put the egg in.
It took about twenty minutes, his muscles were indeed as clueless as he somewhat expected. But lucky for him he still remembered how to cook it.
The egg was fragrant, and the taste was just as he remembered - better even. Probably because the eggs and the tomatoes were of higher quality.
"Ooh, I smell eggs." Just this moment, Douglass Kirkland walked in, in a guest robe. His eyes opened wider as he saw Wu Xiaoming: "You cooked? I thought Xiangyu had arranged a chef that will do it - "
Someone opened the front door, and two strangers walked in, in white, kitchen uniforms. The one in the front was a tall man roughly in his late 30s or early 40s, and the other was a shorter, younger man with freckles on his face. They were holding grocery bags, apparently just back from shopping.
"Oh - you cooked?" The tall man asked, seemingly slightly disappointed and even offended.
"I - I was hungry. " Wu Xiaoming could only respond by scratching his head: "I didn't know. Sorry."
"No worries." The man nodded, then proceeded to take over the kitchen: "What do you want to eat, Mr. Kirkland?"
"Coffee, and omelette with steak." Douglass Kirkland sat beside Wu Xiaoming.
"I would like some steak as well!" Wu Xiaoming raised his hand.
"Temperature?" The man asked as he unpacked with the younger man - presumably his assistant.
"Whatever you think is best." Douglass Kirkland snapped his fingers.
"Same." Wu Xiaoming swept his plate. His hunger was slightly "trimmed", he could still eat.
While they were still waiting, Douglass Kirkland's phone rang. He stepped off to the side to take it, but not far enough that Wu Xiaoming couldn't eavesdrop.
"Hey! Leslie, didn't think you would call this soon, how's it going with you?" Douglass Kirkland put on his usual upbeat and warm agent voice: "...uh-huh… uh-huh… that's good. Yeah, he's pretty interested in the project, and maybe you didn't know this, but he's kind of a paranormal and urban legend geek. Yeah… yeah - okay! Okay, I'll make sure he be there on time. Thank you very much!"
"So, uh, audition is today?" Wu Xiaoming asked as Douglass Kirkland sat back down.
"Yep." Douglass Kirkland grabbed a napkin and unfolded it: "But - as your agent, I'd recommend you take your time considering this project. Don't rush. Don't agree to join right on the spot."
"What? I thought you supported this decision?"
"That was before. Actually - since he called me this early and wants to audition you this soon, there might be a chance that the project is kinda in trouble." Douglass Kirkland sighed, then nodded at the chef who handed him a plate of omelette with steak: "Thank you."
Wu Xiaoming went silent. He understood what Douglass meant implicitly - he was no star, he was at most a mid tier celebrity with an action star dad, his entire public persona was he was the son of Wu Wentao. Therefore, for a director to show this level of eagerness, it could mean that the project might be facing funding issues or even cancellation, and was in desperate need to justify its existence.
"I'll do my best." Wu Xiaoming sighed.
"Oh?" Douglass Kirkland looked at Wu Xiaoming with a bit of surprise and applause.
"When is it?" Wu Xiaoming nodded at the chef who handed him a plate of omelette: "Thank you."
"2 PM." Douglass Kirkland nodded: "No need to actually prepare, they will give you some impromptu scripts to read. It's a reality show, after all. But I need to remind you, they MIGHT want to test your knowledge about urban legend and the paranormal."
"I - I will try to do some homework in a bit." Wu Xiaoming scratched his head.
"Eh, there's too much to learn. I guess what they'd really want to see is that you are actually interested in the role and the show, instead of just collecting a contract." Douglass Kirkland shrugged: "Now - I don't really know how you impressed Charlie Manchester so, but just keep that energy, and you'll be alright."
"I smell eggs." Just this moment, Wu Wentao and Wu Xiangyu came into the kitchen. Wu Wentao was yawning, while Wu Xiangyu was checking his phone.
"Your son cooked. But he left us with nothing!" Douglass Kirkland turned to Wu Wentao, laughing: "Stir fried egg with tomatoes, man!"
"You did?" Wu Wentao and Wu Xiangyu both seemed quite surprised.