For about half a minute, Qiyu's gaze remained fixed in the direction the middle-aged woman had disappeared.
"Oh, right. What should I call that... older sister?"
Qiyu burst out laughing.
"You really know how to flatter women. Calling her so young on purpose."
Ye Chenfeng awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.
But inside, he was thinking: What else was I supposed to call her? Thank god I didn't call you Auntie when you appeared out of thin air... Damn—
He looked up and met Qiyu's eyes.
The amusement in them had vanished completely, replaced by a bone-chilling glare.
A layer of cold sweat instantly broke out across Ye Chenfeng's back.
He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten again. This woman could hear every word in his head.
Could he stop making snarky comments internally? No. He couldn't. It was a habit he'd built over more than twenty years; it wasn't something he could just switch off. Girls with psychic powers were seriously terrifying.
He forced out an awkward smile.
"I-I was kidding. Don't take it personally, okay?"
Qiyu glared at him for two seconds, then suddenly turned her head away.
She also felt she'd overreacted a little. Why was she taking every single thought that popped into his head so seriously? What he thought was his freedom. She wasn't his mother.
She regained her composure and said flatly, "I call her Aunt Mary. She's an adventurer's housekeeper."
"Housekeeper?"
"Yeah. Adventurers spend most of the year running around outside, so Maya assigns them a housekeeper to handle everyday chores and look after the house." Qiyu paused. "When there are guests, she handles entertaining them."
Her tone was casual, as if she were introducing the robot vacuum at home.
Then she added, "When there are enemies, she switches to combat mode and beats them to death."
She said it as lightly as if she were commenting on the weather.
Ye Chenfeng's smile froze on his face.
His brain automatically translated the subtext: If I have bad intentions, I go from being a "guest" to being an "enemy." The Aunt Mary who'd just smiled at me and gently asked whether I wanted Chinese or Western food for dinner could tear me into pieces in a fraction of a second.
He glanced toward the spot where Aunt Mary had disappeared, then at Qiyu.
"...I think the Chinese dinner just became a lot more delicious."
Qiyu couldn't hold it in and laughed.
After laughing, she remembered something.
"Oh, right. Are you hungry? Aunt Mary can—"
Before she could finish, Aunt Mary's voice came from the direction of the kitchen, carrying a hint of apology.
"Miss, there are no ingredients in the kitchen."
Qiyu froze.
Only then did she remember—in Utopia, drones delivered fresh vegetables and synthetic meat on schedule every day. She'd never needed to prepare ingredients herself. There was always something in the refrigerator whenever she opened it, as natural as breathing.
But this was Earth. There were no drones, no delivery system, and nothing at all in the refrigerator.
A sci-fi room that could teleport to any coordinate, with not even a single egg in its kitchen.
Qiyu's face grew slightly warm.
Ye Chenfeng, on the other hand, was completely casual. He leaned back against the sofa and waved his hand.
"No big deal. I'll head back in a little while. I was just here to look around."
Seeing how unconcerned he looked, Qiyu's eyes suddenly lit up.
"Wait." She sprang up from the sofa. "I'll give you something to eat. It's something only adventurers get."
Ye Chenfeng instantly sat up straight.
Something only adventurers got. Food eaten by aliens. Food on a sci-fi level.
His imagination automatically ran wild—would it make his whole body glow? Would his muscles suddenly balloon? Would he turn into another species after swallowing it, like in the movies?
His eyes shone, and even his voice changed.
"Does it turn you into the Hulk?"
Qiyu tilted her head.
The Hulk?
Little Maya's voice sounded in her mind. "An Earth movie character, a superhero in the Marvel Universe. Fictional. After being exposed to gamma radiation, he transforms into a gigantic green creature with immense strength and reduced intelligence."
Qiyu took a second to process that, then the corners of her mouth slowly curled upward.
"It's not that dramatic." She paused, deliberately lowering her voice. "But it's pretty close."
Ye Chenfeng's eyes lit up even more.
Qiyu turned and walked deeper into the room. A few seconds later, she returned with something resting in her palm.
It was tiny, about the size of a peanut. Its surface was smooth, and it was a deep ink-green, faintly gleaming with a layer of fine luster, as if an entire forest had been compressed into a single seed.
"This is a Starcore Bean." Qiyu held it out to Ye Chenfeng. "One is enough to meet all of a human body's nutritional needs for an entire day. We people of Utopia eat one every day from the moment we're born."
Ye Chenfeng took it and examined it in his palm.
"It's really that small?"
"Yeah."
"Does it really turn you into the Hulk?"
"I told you, it's not that dramatic."
Ye Chenfeng glanced at her, then tossed the Starcore Bean into his mouth.
It barely had any flavor. There was a faint sweetness, like holding a mouthful of mountain spring water. It dissolved after just a couple of chews and slid warmly down his throat.
"That's it?" He was a little disappointed. "I thought it would at least make me glow—"
He stopped halfway through the sentence.
A warm current spread from his stomach. It wasn't the heat of drinking ginger soup. It was deeper and finer, as if something were flowing through his blood vessels into every corner of his body.
His lower back.
The old problem he'd had for six years—the ache caused by driving a bus for eight hours every day, sitting in the same position and putting constant pressure on his lumbar spine, the soreness that made it hurt even to bend over and tie his shoes after work—was suddenly gone.
It wasn't that it "felt a little better." It didn't hurt at all. It was as if someone had gently pinched the perpetually inflamed nerve, then let go.
He froze, then instinctively twisted his waist.
Then came his shoulder. His right shoulder. The one attached to the hand he used to grip the steering wheel. There had always been a hard knot beneath his shoulder blade, the kind even a massage couldn't work loose. Now that knot was melting, dissolving bit by bit like ice dropped into hot water.
He rolled his neck. It was loose. His entire spine felt loose.
"My back..." His voice was dazed. "Why doesn't it hurt anymore?"
Qiyu sat cross-legged across from him, her chin resting on the back of her hand as she watched his reaction. Her tone was completely matter-of-fact.
"It wasn't supposed to hurt in the first place."
Ye Chenfeng looked up at her.
Qiyu's expression was serious. She wasn't joking or showing off her technology. She genuinely believed that a person's body shouldn't hurt, and that pain was abnormal.
"The Starcore Bean doesn't just fill you up," she said. "It strengthens your cells and repairs every hidden injury in your body—all the damage you've gotten used to, all the wear and tear you've told yourself is just 'the way things are.' It repairs all of it."
Ye Chenfeng was silent for a long time.
He thought of the ache in his lower back after every shift, the knot beneath his right shoulder blade that no amount of pressing could loosen, and the occasional stabbing pain in his stomach that he was too lazy to get checked out. He'd always thought that was simply what came with the job, the price he had to pay, something normal.
It turned out it wasn't normal.
He lowered his head and looked at his palm, then clenched his fist. He seemed a little stronger than usual, but that might have been his imagination.
"You people of Utopia... eat this every day?"
"Since the first day we're born."
"No wonder you're all so healthy and sturdy."
Qiyu smiled.
Ye Chenfeng leaned back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling, his expression complicated.
After a while, he suddenly spoke.
"Thank you."
His voice was soft but sincere. He wasn't thanking her for the bean, but for something he couldn't quite put into words.
Qiyu didn't reply. She simply watched him in silence.
The sound of waves drifted faintly in through the window, and moonlight bathed the entire living room in silver. A rookie adventurer from the future and an ordinary working-class bus driver sat together in a sci-fi room that had no idea where it was drifting, sharing a priceless bean.
It was very quiet.
And very good.