Chapter Fifty: The Deal

They moved quickly, and the two of them soon reached an agreement. Fang Yuan saw the man who had been facing away from him say something to his assistant, and then the assistant opened the combination lock on the case in his hands. Fang Yuan didn’t even need to look to know what was inside, but he couldn’t help sneaking a glance. Good heavens—it was a case full of US dollars, all crisp and new.

Seeing this, Fang Yuan remembered what the bald man had said during their meal: “Good stuff.” Was this the “good stuff” the bald man had mentioned? Watching the man hand the entire case of dollars to Brother Nan, Fang Yuan was sure that whatever Brother Nan had shown him earlier must have been the “good stuff” the bald man was talking about. What could be worth a whole case of US dollars? Apart from diamonds, Fang Yuan couldn’t think of anything more valuable. There were, of course, some rare antiques that fetched high prices, but this was a small item that could be held in one hand, and given the setting of the exchange, it was unlikely to be an antique.

He had caught a glimpse of the item earlier when sunlight hit it—it had the look of a diamond or something similar. Fine diamonds could be found in any major mall, and the man who kept his back to Fang Yuan clearly wasn’t short on cash. So why were they conducting the deal here? That was something Fang Yuan couldn’t figure out.

Once the deal was done, a speedboat quickly arrived and took the two men away. Brother Nan didn’t hurry back but stood on the shore, gazing out into the distance for a long while. At last, he broke into a satisfied smile before returning by boat.

This little episode didn’t dampen Fang Yuan’s mood, and he continued diving toward the open sea.

“Master, why do you think that Brother Nan kept staring into the distance just now? And that grin on his face—he looked so... sleazy,” Chonchon muttered.

“Chonchon, let’s make a deal. Please stop calling me ‘Master’ all the time. Just use my name, all right? Every time you say ‘Master,’ it makes me feel like I’ve time-traveled or something,” Fang Yuan said, unable to bear the title any longer. It just made everything feel out of place.

“Master, what does ‘time-traveled’ mean?” Chonchon’s attention was only caught by the unfamiliar word, not Fang Yuan’s request.

“Uh…” With a companion who was sometimes dim-witted and sometimes sharp, Fang Yuan really couldn’t stay annoyed for long.

After explaining the meaning of “time-traveled,” Fang Yuan promptly forgot what he had said before. Chonchon went unusually quiet for a while, as if digesting the story Fang Yuan had just told.

“Chonchon, Chonchon—” After a while, Fang Yuan spotted something not far ahead, glinting in the sunlight on the seabed. He couldn’t tell what it was from this distance. He called out to Chonchon, not because he was particularly interested in the thing, but because he found the silence unsettling. He’d gotten used to Chonchon’s constant chatter; though sometimes annoying, the sudden quiet was even more disconcerting.

He called several times before Chonchon responded. “Master, it’s just a glass bottle. Sunlight refracted off it, that’s all,” Chonchon said dismissively.

There were plenty of such things in the sea nowadays—usually message bottles made by naïve children that sank to the bottom because they weren’t well sealed. Some were simply wine bottles tossed overboard by people on passing boats after they’d finished drinking. Over time, the seabed had become littered with bottles of all kinds.

“It’s getting late. We should head back,” Fang Yuan said. He moved so gently in the water that the small fish swimming by didn’t bother to avoid him. If he wanted, he could easily reach out and catch a few. But they were just little fish, and Fang Yuan wasn’t interested in them. If he were to catch anything, it would have to be a big fish—only then would his abilities be put to proper use.

He hadn’t liked eating fish much before, but with Chonchon’s company, he had grown fond of it.

On the way back, he spotted a good-sized fish and caught it without hesitation. It looked to weigh over ten pounds, but Fang Yuan had no idea what kind of fish it was.

“Master, I want a pearl. Can you find me a nice one?” Chonchon suddenly said.

“A pearl? What would you do with that? You couldn’t wear it anyway,” Fang Yuan replied, first surprised, then realizing the oddness of his own words. It was only after a long silence from Chonchon that he realized how inappropriate he’d been.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, since you’re living in my brain now, you wouldn’t have any use for a pearl. I’m a man, so I certainly wouldn’t carry one around. So…” Fang Yuan tried to explain.

“It’s okay. It just popped into my head. I forgot I’d never have a chance to use a pearl. Never mind, let’s go back,” Chonchon said.

Chonchon was right, but Fang Yuan still felt something about the conversation was off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. Chonchon was inside his body—naturally, it had no use for such things.

Back on shore, Fang Yuan rinsed the seawater off himself and went to look for his phone. With weather like this, his clothes would dry quickly, so there was no need to worry about catching a cold. Still, once they dried, there’d be salt marks, so he’d have to wash them again when he got home.

At this temperature, the fish couldn’t be left for long. He’d need to gut and preserve it quickly. Fortunately, his place wasn’t far—just half an hour’s walk. But his clothes were soaked, and no taxi driver would let someone dripping wet and carrying a fish into their cab, nor would a bus driver.

After walking for a while, Fang Yuan decided to head to the restaurant and have Da Zhuang cook the fish for him. He could cook at home, but his skills were mediocre. The restaurant was closer anyway—twenty minutes’ walk and he arrived.

Normally, Fang Yuan had set opening hours for the place. Though he arrived before opening time, Da Zhuang was still there.