Chapter Two: The First Bucket of Gold

Half a pound of braised beef, two large white steamed buns, and a plate of pickled vegetables.

Feng Yuan ate with relish, feeling that this was the best meal he had ever had since birth. In no time, he polished off everything, patted his stomach, and found it still not quite enough—only a slight foundation—but it would suffice.

Gulp!

He poured himself a large bowl of cold water, belched loudly in satisfaction, then sat by the bed, leaned against the headboard, reached under the bed for a straw, crossed his legs comfortably, and began to pick his teeth with great contentment.

Feng Fugui and his two companions watched as Feng Yuan finished his meal and waited for him to hand over the money. To their surprise, Feng Yuan just sat there, unmoved. Feng Fugui grew impatient.

“Boy, you’ve eaten and drunk, now hurry up and give me my money!” he snapped angrily, glaring at Feng Yuan.

“Hehe, Fugui, what’s the rush? I’ve just eaten; strenuous activity right after a meal isn’t good for the stomach!” Feng Yuan replied, smiling. “The sages say, after a meal, one should sit and rest, ideally lie down—this is good for the kidneys. If you do this regularly, it can double your prowess in the bedroom. Fugui, judging by your complexion, you must be struggling in that regard lately. Remember this; it’s good for you. I wouldn’t tell just anyone!”

“Did the sages really say that?” Feng Fugui looked at Feng Yuan, skeptical.

“Of course, Fugui. Don’t forget, I’m a scholar, a learned man—I’d never lie to you!” Feng Yuan declared, his face calm and unblushing, spouting nonsense without a hint of shame. His thick skin was like a city wall.

Feng Fugui, uncultured and rustic, couldn’t discern truth from falsehood when faced with Feng Yuan’s scholarly status. Plus, he frequented brothels and had indeed been lacking lately, so he believed it, nodding secretly and deciding to try it out.

This is the most typical human psychology: whenever something benefits us, even if it’s obviously false, we can’t help but believe it. This is why so many people fall for scams.

Feng Yuan, observing Fugui’s expression, knew his words had hit the mark. Fugui’s problem was apparent from his complexion—pale and puffy, a classic sign of kidney deficiency.

A sly glint flickered in Feng Yuan’s eyes as he continued, “Fugui, while my method is good, it takes too long. I do have a quick remedy for restoring bedroom prowess—seven times in a night. Interested?”

“What is it? Tell me!” Fugui’s spirits lifted instantly.

Feng Yuan smiled, glanced at Ma San and Skinny Monkey beside him, and Fugui immediately understood, signaling the two to leave and shutting the door.

“Quick, Feng Yuan, tell me!” Fugui urged.

Judging from Fugui’s eagerness, Feng Yuan guessed his condition was quite severe. He replied slowly, “Fugui, this recipe is a family secret, passed down from the ‘Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor.’ Have you heard of it?”

“No, what is it?”

“Hehe, that makes things easier!” Feng Yuan grinned mischievously. “The ‘Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor’ is a medical text, co-authored by nine legendary ancient physicians. It contains the finest medical recipes. As the name suggests, it’s the imperial medical book used by the emperor. Imagine, the emperor’s own remedy—how could it not be effective?”

“Of course, anything used by the emperor must be good!” Fugui agreed enthusiastically.

“But,” Feng Yuan continued seriously, “the emperor is the Son of Heaven—his remedies aren’t for just anyone. If it’s discovered, it’s sacrilege against the royal family, punishable by death!” He made a dramatic gesture of decapitation, startling Fugui, who was listening intently.

“Don’t worry, Fugui. As long as you don’t tell anyone, you’ll be fine!” Feng Yuan reassured him with a smile.

“Yes, yes, I’ll never tell. Just tell me the recipe!” Fugui nodded eagerly.

Seeing Fugui had taken the bait, Feng Yuan prepared to extort a hefty sum.

“Fugui, this secret recipe was brought out of the palace at great risk by my ancestors. As much as I’d like to give it to you to show my respect, you know I’m a scholar. If I just hand over what my family risked their lives for, that would be unfilial—a disgrace to my ancestors. So I’m in a bit of a dilemma.”

He looked troubled as he spoke.

“Feng Yuan, don’t worry. I won’t take your recipe for nothing. How about this: you give me the recipe, and I’ll forgive the two hundred coins you owe me!” Fugui offered.

“Excellent! Fugui, you truly are magnanimous—the top man in our village!” Feng Yuan praised, giving him a thumbs-up. His expression quickly shifted, and he added, “But, this is a palace secret, brought out at the cost of my ancestors’ lives. Two hundred coins is a bit too little. Of course, it’s not about the money—I just don’t want to let down my ancestors. I’d feel ashamed to face them.”

“In that case, Feng Yuan, I don’t want to make it hard for you. Let me add a hundred coins.” Fugui opened his pouch, took out a string of copper coins, and handed it to Feng Yuan.

Feng Yuan’s face lit up, but he didn’t take it, still acting troubled. “Sigh, I think I’d better not. If I take a hundred coins for what my ancestors risked their lives for, I’d feel guilty, unable to face them. Besides, these are imperial remedies—paying so little for the emperor’s recipe is an insult to His Majesty. Fugui, do you want to insult the emperor?”

“Of course not!”

Fugui shook his head hastily, then pulled off his money pouch and handed it to Feng Yuan. “Feng Yuan, I have five hundred coins here—take them all. That should honor your ancestors and not insult the emperor!”

Feng Yuan looked at the pouch and, with some reluctance, said, “Alright, for your sake, Fugui, I’ll give you the recipe, even if it means letting down my ancestors. I’ll write it for you now!”

He grabbed the pouch, turned to write, while Fugui behind him was moved to tears—so touched that Feng Yuan would disregard his ancestors for him, a true brother.

In no time, Feng Yuan finished writing the recipe. In reality, it was just a common kidney tonic, one he had seen often in his former life while running errands for his boss, who had similar issues and frequented old Chinese doctors. Whether it worked or not, Feng Yuan wasn’t sure.

“Keep it safe, Fugui, and don’t let it fall into anyone else’s hands. Never tell anyone—it’s the emperor’s recipe, and you could lose your head. Remember!” Feng Yuan warned seriously.

“Rest assured, Feng Yuan, I won’t. If this recipe works, from now on, you’re my sworn brother—I’ll make sure you live well and eat well!” Fugui declared passionately.

“Thank you, big brother!” Feng Yuan responded with equal gusto.

“It’s a deal!” Fugui patted Feng Yuan’s shoulder. “Feng Yuan, I won’t stay any longer. I’ll go try it now and find you later!”

“Alright, Fugui, let me see you off!”

Feng Yuan followed him out and saw him off.

Watching Fugui leave, Feng Yuan took out the money pouch, weighed it in his hand, and beamed with joy.

He hadn’t expected Fugui to be so foolish and easy to deceive. If there were more like him, he’d be rich in no time.

The real reason Fugui was so easy to fool was his lack of education. In this world, scholars hold high status. Feng Yuan, as a scholar, could say anything Fugui didn’t understand, and it would seem impressive and unquestionably true, making it easy for him to believe.

In Feng Yuan’s former life in China, it was the same: uneducated people believed whatever educated people said, blindly following to appear cultured, though they understood nothing at all.