Chapter 9

This meal left Qiao Ning utterly satisfied.

The fish soup was fresh enough to make your tongue fall off. That whole big fish—he ate it all himself, couldn’t bear to waste a single morsel.

Simply poached with only scallion, ginger, salt, and white pepper as basic seasoning, the fish’s natural sweetness was elevated to its limit. Even the tofu in the soup was wonderful—soft and tender on the tongue.

Compared to the fish, though, even the tofu fell a little short. The best fish Qiao Ning had ever eaten.

The Clam, Shrimp and Vermicelli Claypot was delicious too—the clam meat and shrimp both incredibly fresh, the clams tender, the shrimp firm and springy.

The vermicelli and vegetables were good as well, but next to the clams and shrimp, the gap was obvious—they paled in comparison.

Qiao Ning polished off both pot and soup, stuffed to bursting. The soup had been too much to finish, so he saved the rest and made Fish Soup Noodles for dinner—also unbelievably good. Ordinary dried noodles transformed into a world-class delicacy.

Even the cohabiting housemate coming home inexplicably bad-tempered, slamming and banging things, couldn’t dent Qiao Ning’s good mood.

Lying in bed with his phone, he thought contentedly: this Spirit Spring really is a treasure.

Its ability to elevate ingredients alone qualified it as a super Golden Finger. Who could say no to delicious food?

He slept like a log.

Qiao Ning woke refreshed, body comfortable, mind sharp. Perhaps because he hadn’t been overworked lately and had rested well, his physical condition was visibly improving.

Up to wash—the housemate, as usual, already gone.

Pushing open the bathroom door, Qiao Ning got a faceful of steam trapped overnight. His good mood took a hit.

He aired the room out, thinking: tonight, I really do need to have a word with that male housemate.

Once or twice could be forgetting. But this made several times running—showering in the hall bathroom every day, then never opening the window after.

He cleaned the bathroom, and while putting away the mop noticed the shampoo bottle tipped over. He reached out to right it.

Picking it up, something felt off. This bottle was bought when he first came back after rebirth—his old one had just run out.

But it had only been about a week, and it seemed there was barely anything left in the bottom.

He unscrewed the cap and checked. Indeed—just a puddle at the bottom.

Qiao Ning: “…”

Wait. Even two people using it shouldn’t burn through it this fast! Was the guy blowing bubbles with his shampoo?!

Irritated, Qiao Ning snatched up his soap dish. The soap looked about the same size—no obvious change—but he couldn’t take the risk. He threw out soap and dish together.

He was poor; soap was cheaper than body wash, and he’d used it since childhood.

The shampoo was one thing. If his soap had been used too… just imagining it made Qiao Ning’s skin crawl.

Glumly starting to brush his teeth, he picked up his toothpaste—and his hand froze.

Wait—did that idiot use his toothpaste too?

Couldn’t take the gamble.

Dark-faced, Qiao Ning tossed toothpaste and toothbrush both, unboxing the spares he’d bought—there’d been a promotion, and cheapskate Qiao Ning had stocked up. He’d use them eventually anyway.

Teeth brushed, he locked his bedroom door and pocketed his keys down to the third floor.

At this hour of the morning, the landlady was usually home. Today was no exception. Seeing Qiao Ning, her first words: “Little Qiao! More strawberries? This time I want ten jin!”

Qiao Ning laughed helplessly. “Not yet, I’m afraid.”

The landlady looked disappointed, then said understandingly: “New varieties—unstable yields, right?”

Qiao Ning nodded quickly. She’d even come up with his excuse for him.

She asked what he’d come for. Qiao Ning didn’t mention his friction with his housemates—nothing sharp enough to be worth airing—and said he’d come to ask about terminating his lease early.

It was late March. Qiao Ning’s lease ran to early May. He’d originally planned to lie flat in the rental through these two months—private space to test his Golden Finger, convenient.

When the lease ended, he’d move back to school for thesis defense, stay through graduation, collect his diploma, then go home. Going back now would just mean returning two months later.

But lying flat here wasn’t comfortable. A dozen-odd pots—fewer than ten now, actually.

The Golden Finger experiments took little time, and the remaining hours left him at loose ends.

He’d gone to movies, wandered malls—alone, it all felt pointless.

He seemed to lack a certain ability: making his own fun.

Freshly disgusted by his housemate yet again, Qiao Ning suddenly saw it clearly. What was the point of dragging out these few months? He wanted to go home—so go.

Defending his thesis and collecting his diploma a few months from now was a few-months-from-now problem. Communicating with his Academic Advisor could all be done online.

Once he’d thought it through, Qiao Ning stopped agonizing and came straight down to discuss early termination.

His lease wasn’t up, so the Security Deposit was probably forfeit—but he hoped to salvage what refund he could on the rent. If not, so be it.

Perhaps thanks to the goodwill bonus from Strawberry Diplomacy, the landlady was quite agreeable. Hearing he wanted to terminate early, she only sighed with regret, then amiably offered: deposit plus next month’s rent refunded; this month, no.

That was already good. Qiao Ning hadn’t planned to leave immediately anyway—still had things to wrap up.

“Say, Little Qiao, you’ve been looking great lately.” The landlady studied him, the more she looked the more envious. “Have you gotten fairer? This face of yours—your skin is amazing! Any skincare? Recommend something to me!”

Qiao Ning touched his cheek reflexively. He saw it daily and hadn’t noticed, but it did feel smooth.

“No skincare. Maybe it’s from staying indoors out of the sun lately, and resting well.”

“Is that so…” The landlady sighed with disappointment, then remembered to add: “When you have strawberries, tell me first, okay?”

Qiao Ning promised over and over: “Won’t forget.”

Lease matters settled, Qiao Ning’s mood lifted again.

Since quitting the Corporate Workhorse grind, his moods turned good so easily. Truly—when the person relaxes, the spirit follows.

Home, Qiao Ning went straight to the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror for a good while.

He had gotten fairer. Skin better too. And…

Qiao Ning stood straight, gestured against the mirror. He felt taller too—possibly imagination. If he’d really grown, how wonderful.

His adolescence had been poorly fed—forget nutrition, he’d often gone hungry, plus heavy stress, all of it stunting his growth. His pre-Gaokao physical had measured 1.73 meters; he’d gained two centimeters in university, then nothing. His height had frozen.

With shoes on he could claim 1.76, but Qiao Chenggong was a tall man, the stepmother wasn’t, and Qiao Rui had hit 1.8 in high school. Every thought of his own height depressed Qiao Ning.

No way to measure at home, so Qiao Ning set the matter aside—while the hope inside quietly swelled.

Back in his bedroom, he locked the door.

Today’s new Golden Finger experiment: once done, he could start wrapping up the potted plants.

Sitting at his desk were the bottled waters he’d bought: 550ml, 1.5L, and 5L.

He hesitated, then grabbed the 5L—he couldn’t finish that in a day anyway.

But 1.5L was a lot too. After a moment’s struggle, Qiao Ning chose the 1.5L, unscrewed the cap, and dripped in one drop of Spirit Spring water.

Then screwed the cap back on and shook the bottle.

The drop was invisible once it entered, so this was purely psychological—mixing it evenly.

Spirit Spring water: manufactured. Qiao Ning unscrewed the cap again and gulped down several big mouthfuls.

He sat quietly, feeling it out.

Hey! Nothing!

Just a bit cold. The weather hadn’t fully warmed; drinking several gulps of cold water on an empty stomach first thing in the morning—chilly.

Hugging the big bottle, Qiao Ning drank several more mouthfuls.

And you know—not sure if it was his imagination, but with the Spirit Spring added, even the water tasted better.

Hard to name any actual flavor—still just bottled-water taste, not sweetened.

But it went down smoothly. Even plain water felt refreshing now.

Worried the effect would fade if he dawdled, Qiao Ning didn’t sip slowly. It tasted good anyway—he hugged the big bottle and chugged mouthful after mouthful.

Without the label, his posture had quite the air of a man draining liquor by the bowlful.

Then it was finished.

He felt… nothing.

So drinking Spirit Spring water alone had no effect?

But on plants it worked instantly?

Qiao Ning thought: was it because he was so much bigger than a plant that a single drop was simply too little?

Still not daring to take undiluted spring, he opened the 550ml bottle instead—dripped in one drop.

Hesitated. Added two more.

Then chugged the whole bottle. Tasty.

Qiao Ning hiccupped—a water burp—and felt he could slosh if he shook, the sound of water in his belly.

Not hungry anymore. Properly waterlogged.

Needing to wait and observe, Qiao Ning didn’t dare go out. He found a movie on his laptop and leaned against the headboard to watch.

Barely into the opening scenes, Qiao Ning sensed something off. His body felt… sticky? Like he’d sweated and it was trapped against him, uncomfortable.

He swiped a hand across his neck. It came away greasy. Qiao Ning stared at his hand in shock. What… what was this? Blackish-grey oil?

Hold on—he’d showered just last night. Could he be that dirty? Dye rubbing off his clothes?

He lifted his shirt and saw it clearly: a layer of unknown substance already coating his skin. Not dead skin—dead skin wasn’t this oily.

And the stuff was thickening, shifting from grey to black.

Meanwhile, a stench reached his nose.

Qiao Ning: “…”

Damn it all—he was ON HIS BED. His nest!

He scrambled off the mattress in a tangle of limbs and bolted for the bathroom.