Chapter Twenty-Two: Eight Bowls of Ramen

“Hey, chubby, you’re a bit premature in celebrating. Your Dharma name...” Liu Jun couldn’t hold back any longer as he watched the chubby guy grin foolishly.

“My Dharma name? What about it?” the chubby man asked, puzzled.

“Try reading it backwards.”

“‘Weak wisdom, weak wisdom, intellectually weak???’” The chubby man’s face crumpled in despair.

Poor kid, learning Buddhism without a proper teacher, and his Dharma name even insults his intelligence. Hahaha.

“Bro, what’s your Taoist name?”

“Golden Money Seed!” Liu Jun looked up at the sky. Damn, he had laughed too soon.

Two people bonded by their shared misfortune embraced and wept; these Dharma and Taoist names were absurdly touching in their own way.

After a moment of reflection, Liu Jun patted the three thousand yuan in his pocket and decided to buy a vehicle first. After all, you can’t ride the bus holding a fox. Leaving the little fox at home alone wasn’t an option either—it was teething and gnawed like a husky. Grabbing the little fox, who was busily chewing on the master’s chair, Liu Jun led the chubby guy toward the street lined with vehicle sellers.

“Bro, what kind of vehicle do you want to buy?” the chubby one asked curiously.

“Something like a Honda Accord or Audi,” Liu Jun replied.

Half an hour later, the chubby guy stared blankly at a sign for a Yadea electric scooter. The name was really quite similar.

Carrying the little fox, Liu Jun approached the shop’s entrance, where the electric scooter salesman hurried out and came straight toward Liu Jun. The salesman ignored the chubby guy, probably fearing he’d ruin his reputation.

“Young man, if you’re buying an electric scooter, take a look at this one—pure white body, black wheels, slender handlebars. Doesn’t it look like Snow White?” The salesman had quite a flair for words.

“Don’t give me fancy talk, how’s the quality?”

“Quality is top-notch, a big brand, guaranteed. Just look at the craftsmanship.” As he spoke, the salesman gave the front of the scooter a hard tap.

“Look at the materials, the quality.” He tapped again, and with a crack, the front panel split.

“See? The paint doesn’t even chip when it cracks.” The salesman awkwardly withdrew his hand.

“Enough praising. Just tell me the price,” Liu Jun said, eyeing the scooter.

“Originally 2699 yuan. But you look friendly, let’s make a good deal—2500 for you.”

“But you just smashed it a moment ago.”

“I’ll give you 2300, a friendly family discount.”

“My goodness, boss, is your grip always this strong? How did you break it in one tap?” Liu Jun pretended to be shocked, raising his voice.

“Don’t shout, don’t shout. 2100, 2100 and it’s yours. Any lower and I’ll take a loss.” And so, for 2100 yuan, they bought the electric scooter.

When paying, the chubby guy even tried negotiating for a helmet and gloves, but the salesman politely but firmly showed them the door, face ashen.

Just as Liu Jun was gleefully about to leave on the new scooter, he caught the chubby guy trying to sit on the back seat. He quickly stopped him.

“Chubby, take a taxi back. Not only might the back seat not fit you, but if you sit on it, the wheels will abandon us and run away without us.”

With that, Liu Jun rode off happily, a proud new owner of a vehicle, albeit a small electric scooter.

Riding to the market, he planned to buy some food and also some carrots. Yes, carrots—for Bai Susu. Liu Jun didn’t understand why a fox loved munching carrots; it was a blow to the rabbits’ reputation.

While crouching at a vegetable stall selecting carrots, he overheard two middle-aged women talking nearby.

“Hey, did you hear? Fushui Hospital is haunted.”

“Yeah, yeah, and the ghost’s already killed three or four people.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m telling you, my neighbor’s grandfather’s in the hospital, so I know all the details.”

“Your neighbor’s grandfather is that old and still working at the hospital?”

“No, no, he’s lying in the morgue.” Haha, impressive.

As for Fushui Hospital, nominally a second-class Grade A district hospital, its reputation was truly dreadful. Around Liu Jun’s area, it was notorious. They had even lost patients to simple colds and had a reputation for incompetence.

One common incident spoke volumes: A neighbor’s brother had a quarrel with his wife. In a fit of anger, she stabbed him. He called 120 (emergency number), clutching his belly, and waited downstairs for the ambulance. When the ambulance arrived, the doctor was preparing to put him on the stretcher. Seeing the hospital’s name, Fushui, the man immediately got off.

“You guys go ahead. I think I can hold on a bit longer. I’m going to another hospital.”

The doctor could do nothing as the ambulance left. The man then took a taxi to a military hospital several dozen kilometers away.

Think about it—stabbed, bleeding, and yet refusing to go to Fushui Hospital.

Back to the point, Fushui Hospital wasn’t far from Liu Jun’s home. The girl with the ponytail he often saw on the bus always got off at the Fushui Hospital stop—most likely she worked there.

Maybe out of curiosity or personal interest, Liu Jun decided to check out Fushui Hospital. When he mentioned it during his night shift to Mo Li, she declined, suggesting he take the chubby guy instead, to toughen up. Indeed, Mo Li’s cultivation was too advanced; whenever she acted, she could finish things instantly, leaving Liu Jun and the chubby guy as mere bystanders.

The next afternoon, Liu Jun, the chubby guy, and the little white fox went to the hospital. They didn’t enter, only scouted the layout to familiarize themselves with the various departments. After all, ghosts wouldn’t be roaming around during the day.

“Bro, don’t you think the ambulance’s siren sounds a bit dull? They should change it.”

“Why? To what? The hottest ethnic beat? You want to dance a square dance behind the ambulance? Our siren’s fine. Go check out Belgian ambulances—their sirens sound like ghost entrance music in movies, enough to send patients off for good,” Liu Jun replied impatiently.

They studied the hospital’s directory at the entrance, making sure they wouldn’t be lost or trapped if they had to escape from ghosts at night.

By six in the evening, Liu Jun decided to take the chubby guy for dinner. He didn’t mind—mostly the chubby guy was starving.

“Liu, if I’m working with you, you’ve got to buy me a meal.”

“Alright, I’ll take you to a nationally renowned, uniquely special place.”

Twenty minutes later, they sat in a Lanzhou noodle shop.

The chubby guy didn’t say a word this time, quietly eating his noodles as they were served. Liu Jun picked a noodle strand and gave it to the little fox. Surprisingly, the fox ate it—at least it wasn’t a picky eater. Placing the fox on the table, Liu Jun took a small dish and picked some noodles from the chubby guy’s bowl to feed the little fox.

After finishing his bowl, the chubby guy was already on his second bowl, not in a hurry. Now that his wallet had less than a hundred yuan left, Liu Jun felt confident he could afford the noodles.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty. The chubby guy had finished six bowls and was about to start the seventh when Liu Jun hastily stopped him.

“Chubby, I’m not stingy with you. I’m worried if you eat too much, you won’t be able to run if we have to fight ghosts tonight.”

“No problem, bro. I’m only about 80% full—still can run,” the chubby guy replied between bites of his seventh bowl.

Damn, 80% full? Now Liu understood why this guy was connected to Buddhism—it was clear he was a disciple of the Buddha’s followers.

“Five seconds—if you can’t finish, you pay yourself. I’ve got to go.” In Liu Jun’s stunned gaze, the chubby guy finished the bowl in just two seconds.

Ha! The bill came to sixty-four yuan for eight bowls, shrinking Liu Jun’s wallet by nearly a tenth. That pig!