Chapter Ten: How Long Has "Simple and Honest Folk Customs" Lasted as a Compliment?

Hearing Feng Xue speak this way, the old man hesitated briefly. Yet, glancing at Feng Xue’s attire, he brought the tobacco to his nose for a sniff, and instinctively tucked it behind his ear before speaking:

“That young master is from the wealthy Qin family of the county, educated in the West. The man behind him is Master Zhao of the Tiger-Subduing Fist. Though only considered second-rate in the martial world, here in our county, he is a top expert! As for this young gentleman…”

At this point, the old man hesitated, then settled on a somewhat fitting description:

“This young master probably wishes to discuss business with the Qin family, yes? My advice is to go straight to the foreign trading company and speak with the manager. Although the Qin young master has been educated abroad, he’s likely befuddled by his studies! He speaks in foreign tongues, and you won’t get much from him in negotiation!”

As he spoke, the old man shook his head with an expression of disdain, as if showing contempt for all things foreign.

“Oh,” Feng Xue’s mind settled with this knowledge, and she smiled gently.

“I’m not particularly interested in the Qin young master but rather curious about skilled practitioners. By the way, does our county have any experts? Not fighters, but those… well, those proficient in summoning spirits and divination.”

Upon hearing this, the old man’s eyes brightened with comprehension. He considered his words carefully:

“As for masters of the mystical arts, we do have a few in this county. For example, Aunt Jiu is a renowned shaman in the surrounding villages. People come to her for spirit writing and rice divination. She also handles funerals and rites, but such matters are somewhat unlucky to meddle in, so it’s best not to disturb her without cause.

“There’s also Taoist Qian at the northern charity hall, who has two disciples. In his youth, he was skilled in exorcising ghosts and demons. Now, older and seeking peace, he mainly helps with feng shui consultations. But should serious trouble arise, he never shirks responsibility. A few years back, when zombies plagued the northern villages and few were left alive, he led the effort to resolve it.

“Then there’s Miss Lan. Her family originated from the north, with generations of immortals, though she no longer follows that path. She studied medicine abroad and returned to open an apothecary. However, from what I see, her so-called Western medicines are more like immortal remedies. If you walk two streets ahead, you’ll find it…”

At this, the old man seemed to recall something with some disdain:

“Oh! And there’s a foreign monk, said to be a disciple of some foreign deity. But he’s rather powerless, only occasionally handing out fruit juice and flatbread to lure the thrifty to listen to his sermons… Yet the county magistrate trusts him greatly and has granted him a prime piece of land.”

Listening to the old man’s candid words, Feng Xue couldn’t help but smile. Though he showed little fondness for the “foreign temple,” he did not deliberately omit it, revealing a genuine and straightforward nature. If fortune had not led him to meet a good person, it suggested the county’s folk still retained a decent character.

With these thoughts swirling, Feng Xue began to infer the state of this world based on the information she had.

This world appeared similar to her original one, with a technological level roughly akin to the mid-twentieth century. Occasionally, bicycles passed on the streets, but no automobiles were seen.

Moreover, judging by the old man’s vigor and the county folk’s lifestyle, this place seemed somewhat more prosperous than her own world’s equivalent period. Perhaps it was a remote region, or maybe the presence of extraordinary powers had altered the course of history here.

Still, Feng Xue understood that an old man like this could hardly access any high-level intelligence. What he knew was likely mere gossip and rumors, something to listen to but not fully trust.

With this in mind, Feng Xue inquired about the location of a pawnshop. Upon learning that the county had a money exchange, she abandoned the pawnshop idea and exchanged some gold beans for a mix of bills and coins.

Though she could have sold one of her watches at the pawnshop for a high price, given her limited risk tolerance, she opted for the safer money exchange—even if only slightly safer.

...

“Boss, how much for a sesame flatbread?” With money in hand, Feng Xue approached a breakfast stall. The owner was initially impatient, gesturing toward his sign for her to read, but upon noticing her unusual clothing, his expression quickly changed to a smile.

“Master, two plain sesame flatbreads cost one wen. The ones with butter come in sweet and savory, one wen each. I also have some braised meat, finely chopped and stuffed inside—it’s delicious! Just three wen each!”

“I’ll take two butter ones, one sweet and one savory.” After walking over ten kilometers early this morning, Feng Xue took out three coins and handed them over, silently pondering.

Though a small gesture, the owner’s glance alone suggested that literacy rates in this world might not be low.

“I exchanged about ten grams of gold beans for fifteen guan—fifteen thousand wen—in currency. Judging by the price of flatbreads, gold seems pricier than in the modern world, but grain prices remain stable. If it were a luxury item, the premium would likely be greater. Overall, it appears relatively stable.”

“Master, the butter sesame flatbreads are one wen each—you gave too much.” As Feng Xue mused, the owner handed over the flatbreads and politely pointed out the surplus. Feng Xue smiled in response.

“I wanted to ask you something. I heard there’s an apothecary run by an immortal family here. How do I get there?”

The reason she chose to visit this so-called immortal apothecary first was simple: apothecaries and clinics were often one and the same. Consulting them about her life-shortening ailment seemed far more fitting than seeking out the old lady who handled funerals or the Taoist who ran the mortuary.

“That’s no trouble at all!” The flatbread vendor handed her the breads and a wen coin, then pointed.

“Follow this road ahead. There’s a small foreign-style building selling Western rouge, very eye-catching. When you see that rouge shop, turn right. The second storefront there is hers! But Miss Lan doesn’t like people prying into her family affairs. If you’re just getting medicine, that’s fine, but if you’re… well, you understand me!”

“Then, boss, another butter sesame flatbread, please.” Seeing the knowing look on the vendor’s face, Feng Xue ignored any misinterpretations and took two flatbreads in her hand. She declined the coin and the vendor wrapped another flatbread in oiled paper with a smile. Feng Xue ate as she walked.

Perhaps due to having eaten only compressed biscuits for two meals, the simple butter flatbread surprised her with its crispness. The bit of malt syrup inside was nothing compared to modern sugars, yet it was strangely satisfying.

“The old man earlier, and now this vendor—this county’s folk seem genuinely simple and honest. Well, perhaps it’s because I don’t quite look like an ordinary local.”

Feng Xue glanced at her jacket. Though not noble by her standards, for this era, it might actually be worth more than the fine suit worn by the Qin young master.

Walking while eating, Feng Xue’s expression suddenly grew strange.

She had found the foreign-style building, but the Western rouge…

“Good heavens, perfume and foundation are called Western rouge here?” Staring at the wooden sign with the six big characters “Meilansha Western Rouge,” she almost wanted to laugh. But first—

“Meilansha? Is that the Meilansha known for aromatherapy oils? They sell foundation? Translation error? Or a curious coincidence of parallel worlds?”