Chapter Five: The Supermarket

At noon, with everyone in the family either off to work or at school, only Chen Liang was left alone, lying bored on his bed. In this era, unless someone extended an invitation, no one would visit others at mealtime, especially as lunch approached. Supplies were far too scarce; the grain rationed out to the people by the state was never enough to fill their stomachs.

For someone like Chen Liang, a tall, burly man of over six feet, if he truly let himself eat his fill, he could easily wolf down six or seven large steamed buns in one sitting—it would be child’s play! In this time, what might seem like an extraordinary appetite today was completely ordinary; everyone was perpetually hungry.

Chen Liang, who had just eaten five or six cornmeal buns for breakfast, was hungry again before noon. He staggered out of bed and headed to his parents’ room, where a small corner had been partitioned off for use as a kitchen. There, he saw some buns kept warm by the dying embers of the coal stove and a dish of pickled cabbage his mother had made.

For the first time, Chen Liang felt a trace of resentment toward his meals. Damn it, when would the days of corn buns with pickled cabbage ever end? Normally, having worked undercover, Chen Liang had little regard for what he ate—he’d chewed on corn buns and, when things were really tough, even gnawed on grass. But that was always for a short time—bearable, if only for a while.

Now, faced with the reality that such meager fare would be his daily lot, Chen Liang finally couldn’t take it anymore. Why was he doomed to eat nothing but corn buns? He longed for a real feast! Remembering the lavish spreads of delicacies he’d enjoyed before his transmigration, Chen Liang, tears in his eyes, gnawed fiercely at a corn bun, imagining each bite was braised pork knuckle, red-braised pork belly—until he couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer.

His cravings spiraled—he wanted meat, he wanted rice, he wanted fresh seafood, he wanted a Manchu-Han Imperial Feast! And knowing that right next to the restaurant was the city’s largest Fulejia chain supermarket only made his hunger pangs worse; he was dying to go on a shopping spree.

Just as he was thinking about the supermarket, a wave of dizziness swept over Chen Liang, and in a daze, he suddenly felt as if he was standing inside the very supermarket. Staring blankly at the endless shelves piled high with goods, Chen Liang was stunned. Was he really back? Damn! What about his beloved little niece? He didn’t want to leave her behind—he’d finally found family to accompany him in this world. The thought of his adorable niece trembling under the tyranny of his shrewish sister-in-law without his protection filled him with reluctance to leave.

“Don’t send me back! I want to go home!” As he raised both hands and shouted, a “whoosh” sounded in his ears, and the next instant, Chen Liang, still in his outstretched pose, found himself back by the coal stove at home.

He fell silent. Was this really luck? Chen Liang, who had never won a lottery in his life, felt a surge of excitement deep inside. This time, it seemed, he might have actually hit the jackpot.

Now, in his mind, Chen Liang could clearly sense the entire layout of the supermarket—as if he could control everything within. Suppressing his excitement, with a single thought, a bag of “Kang Shuaifu” instant noodles, emblazoned with the slogan “More in every bowl, better than two bags, no extra charge,” appeared in his hand.

Staring in disbelief, Chen Liang’s eyes reddened. “It’s real!” With another thought, three more packs of instant noodles appeared. Desperate to keep from shouting in excitement—after all, a man trained as an undercover agent would never lose control—he vanished from the coal stove, only to return hoarse a moment later, fresh from the supermarket.

He pulled out an electric kettle, boiled a full pot of water, grabbed two large rice bowls from the cupboard, and soaked three packs of instant noodles at once. Forgive Chen Liang—driven mad by hunger, all he wanted was a bowl of braised beef-flavored noodles.

Anyone who has eaten instant noodles knows that while the taste isn’t anything special, the aroma is incredibly appetizing. And that was enough; the rest could wait until after he’d eaten.

Slurping down the noodles, Chen Liang felt utterly satisfied. Damn, instant noodles really weren’t that tasty—he swore never to eat this junk food again. It wasn’t healthy at all!

What was the point of worrying about health after eating instant noodles? Bah! Scoundrel!

Cursing under his breath, Chen Liang glared at the empty noodle packets. “Useless!” He discovered he had to touch an item to make it disappear. As soon as he laid a hand on a packet, it vanished—how marvelous! He promptly tossed it into the coal stove. Perfect—destroying all evidence, so thorough that even the sharpest investigator would be left clueless.

Sated, Chen Liang lay on his bed and focused his mind on the supermarket’s inventory. Instantly, a torrent of information flooded his consciousness, leaving him dumbfounded.

In his previous life, he’d lived in a newly designated first-tier city. As the city’s largest supermarket chain, the Fulejia’s underground store could accommodate a flow of a hundred thousand shoppers, and its warehouses on the third, fourth, and fifth basement levels were packed to bursting.

He’d thought he’d just caught Lady Luck’s attention, but it turned out he’d practically pinned her to the ground! With so many supplies at his disposal, how could he possibly use them all up in a lifetime?

Lying in bed, he cracked open a bottle of soda and downed it in one go. From now on, he’d eat two bowls of rice at every meal! He’d do the same with soy milk! And he’d find three wives—one to warm the bed, one to dine with him, one to sleep beside him! Bah! Scoundrel! Shame on you!

Laughing at himself for his daydreams, Chen Liang finally settled down for a nap. A full stomach made him sleepy.

He slept soundly until after three in the afternoon. Stretching luxuriously, Chen Liang climbed out of bed, excitement lighting his face. He went to the rice jar and, from the supermarket, produced a 25-kilogram bag of black earth northeast rice to refill it. Next, he replenished the flour container, brimmed the egg basket in the cupboard, and hung a thick slab of pork belly from the kitchen rack.

Only then did he feel content. Seeing that it was nearly time for kindergarten to let out, he took out a big, round, sugar-heart apple. Yes, this was for his little niece—after all, in these hard times, even eating an apple in the dead of winter was a luxury.