"This isn’t right, that isn’t right... In your eyes, is the whole world wrong? Your mindset makes suspect that you have a persecution complex, always thinking others wish to harm you."
"That’s not what I an..."
"No, you do. You see a raven, think it’s wrong—it’s a bad on; you draw a Tarot card, think it’s wrong—it’s a bad on; you et a Big Wizard, still think she’s wrong... bury your head in the snow pile for a bit and think, does the world really have so many things wrong?"
"There’s no snow this season..."
"This has nothing to do with snow! It’s a taphor! As Malfoy would say, a twisted person sees a twisted world... My point is, is it possible that the wrong one is you?"
Xiao Xiao and Xin Fat Man walked on either side of Zheng Qing, critiquing Zheng Qing’s latest wild idea—after leaving Sakura Pub, he was eager to share his deep-seated unease with his two friends.
However, Doctor and Fat Man were dismissive of his apprehensions.
Zheng Qing could understand this—putting himself in their shoes, if he were Xin Fat Man and heard all his recent mystical talks, he too might think he’s quite unwell.
"I didn’t an Sister Korma’s unease was related to those ravens," Zheng Qing tried to sort out his thoughts, emphasizing: "I just feel her current state is a bit strange, sowhat unlike her previous self..."
"Surely not."
Xiao Xiao adjusted his glasses, hitting the nail on the head: "She used to be just an ordinary student, not even a registered wizard; now she is a Big Wizard, and currently, in a rapid accumulation phase after advancing as a Big Wizard, undergoing transformation every mont, even every second... She is not ’sowhat’ unlike her previous self, but ’very’ unlike."
That makes sense too.
But Zheng Qing still felt that this ’difference’ was subtly different from the ’discrepancy’ he was sensing.
As he pondered, Xin Fat Man patted him on the shoulder to comfort him: "Don’t overthink it. I believe it’s due to those ssy rumors and weekly thirty-sothing class assignnts, thus your ntal stress is enormous... You’re overthinking, suffocating yourself. Hold on, once the sester ends, you’ll have fewer worries."
Zheng Qing expressed doubt about this.
"It’s twenty-eight classes."
He ultimately refrained from discussing his ideas further with the two friends, choosing instead to correct an indisputable error: "I have twenty-eight classes a week now."
It was already an unknown number of tis he corrected this small mistake.
The Fat Wizard put an arm around his shoulder, guiding him towards a vendor stall: "Yes, yes, you only need to attend twenty-eight classes a week... Studying is so exhausting, surely straining your eyes, so I’ll recomnd a North District specialty snack to aid your vision, lest everything seems wrong to you!"
Speaking, the trio halted before the vendor stall.
The appearance of North District stalls was quite different from other districts of Beta Town: North District vendors rarely had fixed storefronts, mostly pushing small wooden carts with no nas, topped with oiled paper umbrellas, having a few dust-repelling, rain-avoiding, wind-proof talismans, spinning under locust bead strings, looking ready to flee any mont.
North District custors were akin to these small vendors, not wealthy, unlike the custors from East Zone or West Zone who required cozy, warm stores with services from tooth-picking sprites after als. Even North District Wizards rarely carried gold beans in their pockets; copper coins were the most common currency in this area.
So, when Xin Fat Man boldly tossed a gold bean at the vendor’s stall, not only did the stall owner but also bypassing pedestrians cast sidelong glances.
Yet, when they noticed the Red Gown worn by the young Wizards, their faces showed understanding, followed by envy towards the vendor—North District folks knew academy guests were the best fat sheep.
"Are you burning money just to be fleeced like a fat sheep?"
Zheng Qing leaned over, whispered in the Fat Wizard’s ear, his lip movent subtle, tone helpless: "This gold bean could buy his entire stall."
Xin patted his shoulder.
"You just don’t understand."
He squeezed his mouth outward, his cheek fat happily jiggling, voice equally soft: "I’m telling the vendor with this gold bean that I only eat the best, not to swindle with the junk he sells to other North District people..."
For the self-proclaid ’foodie’ Fat Man, spending money on good food didn’t matter; what mattered was the quality.
The gold bean’s luster greatly motivated the vendor’s enthusiasm; he bent down, from the small cart’s hidden compartnt retrieved a half-foot-high brown jar, along with three clean, small porcelain bowls, then removed the gourd hanging at his waist, pulled the cork, generously poured three bowls of soy sauce-red broth into them.
Zheng Qing watched clearly, the vendor used a wooden ladle to scoop broth from a large barrel for other custors—just by looking at the broth color, one could easily discern the difference.
"What is this?" Zheng Qing sniffed, catching a hint of tart, sweet fragrance.
"Lamb Eye Juice."
Xin Fat Man nad sothing sounding dreadful: "It originates from the Mongolian Plateau Werewolf Tribe as a delicacy, generally used by their Witch Doctors to treat moonlit aftereffects or hangovers, headaches, gout, etc... For us, it also helps to sort out Magic Power."
"I’ve heard of it."
Xiao Xiao adjusted his glasses on the other side, with a sudden realization on his face: "Reportedly, lamb eyes are soaked in tomato juice... the taste varies with different eyes. Herb-marinated eyes are best and safest; many prefer raw or cooked ones too..."
Zheng Qing silently swallowed saliva—the re na of the snack induced physiological discomfort.
Simultaneously, the vendor opened the brown jar, scooped out six marinated black and white eyeballs, gently placing them into the porcelain bowls, two in each.
Remaining blood threads on the eyeballs were distinct, and once imrsed in the broth, they spread like jellyfish tentacles in all directions, Zheng Qing could faintly hear them gurgling as if ’drinking’ the broth, soon the satiated blood threads lazily curled up, retracting around the lamb eyeballs, the eyeballs then rolled around the broth, finally turning towards the three guests, staring motionlessly like dead fish.
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