Chapter Forty: The Art of Making Money

Brothers, just a flick of your finger—add the book to your collection, recommend it, and you’ll give Half-Immortal’s new novel powerful support, truly a timely help. My deepest thanks.

Aprilie, full of disdain, raised her middle finger at Brekin and then entered the bar, accompanied by her loyal bodyguard, Anthony.

“You’ve met your match,” Qiu Fengyu laughed beside Brekin, who looked thoroughly disgruntled, delighting Qiu Fengyu. “This drink’s on me, Aprilie.”

“Thanks!” Aprilie turned her head and flashed Qiu Fengyu a smile.

“No need—you helped me put this bastard in his place, so I’m treating you!” Qiu Fengyu raised his glass to Aprilie, drained it in one gulp, and set the empty glass on the bar with a sharp clink, slipping several bills beneath it. “This one’s on me. Brekin, I like her.” With that, he left, grinning.

“Well, miss, you’ve successfully won him over,” Brekin said to Aprilie, his voice tinged with resentment.

Aprilie laughed. “I like it this way. Tell me, has he always been so mysterious?”

“It depends on what you mean. If you’re talking about certain aspects of his manhood, I admit… he’s always been quite enigmatic. Even my Russian girl hasn’t managed to figure him out yet…”

With a sharp splash, Aprilie threw her drink in Brekin’s face.

“You really are a jerk.” Aprilie, annoyed by the joke, didn’t hesitate to douse Brekin with her drink.

Brekin wiped his face, half laughing, half exasperated. “I was only joking. It’s the truth, you know. I’m not lying—he’s an outsider, hasn’t been here long, but everyone seems to like him…”

“You should have spoken like that from the start,” Aprilie huffed. “Don’t use the tone you use with those prostitutes when you talk to me. I don’t like it, understand?”

“All right… I thought people here wouldn’t mind. Girls in our town usually accept that kind of banter… Fine, I won’t say another word.” Brekin, seeing Aprilie’s expression darken, hurriedly shut his mouth.

In the end, Aprilie learned about Qiu Fengyu’s unavoidable stories with Russian girls before she moved here—an open secret in the town.

“He’s really quite an interesting fellow!” Aprilie’s face was twisted with laughter.

It wasn’t really a funny story, but when attached to Qiu Fengyu, it became hilarious. The main reason was that this guy usually acted so dignified.

Someone so dignified, if they didn’t have a few ridiculous stories, would drift away from the people. So, Qiu Fengyu was popular in town—this was one of the reasons.

“You’d better not get involved with him!” Anthony warned Aprilie once again.

The two of them sat on the lawn behind the house, discussing this topic for some time.

“You’ve said it over and over. If he’s really so dangerous, then… why are we still sitting here safe and sound instead of being killed or hunted?” Aprilie said carelessly.

Anthony fell silent.

Meanwhile, Qiu Fengyu had returned to his loft and was video chatting with Alisa. Her chubby roommate was visible beside her, dancing comically for the camera as if putting on a show for Qiu Fengyu.

“She’s your fan now. She wants to come with me here during the holidays and watch you slaughter a cow,” Alisa laughed to Qiu Fengyu.

“Quite an unusual taste—I like it!” Qiu Fengyu joked back.

The girl danced even harder, shaking her ample hips at Qiu Fengyu, making Alisa laugh so much she couldn’t continue, and ended the call.

Well, it looks like I’ve become the jester for these two girls.

Qiu Fengyu rubbed his nose, a bit embarrassed. But slaughtering a cow was nothing—he enjoyed the beef afterward, and the meat he bought from Britt tasted much better than before, with far less of that bloody flavor. Stewed, it was delicious.

One morning, he suddenly realized he hadn’t gone jogging for several days. After he started slaughtering cows, his running routine had been interrupted. He was impulsive by nature, so he got up, changed, and went out for a run.

On the road, he ran into Coffin and joined her.

“You didn’t stick with it,” Coffin looked at Qiu Fengyu. “Are you dating someone?”

What kind of logic was that? Not keeping up with running meant he was in love? Qiu Fengyu was momentarily baffled, then replied, “No, no, you know me—I don’t want to date.”

“No? What about Aprilie…”

“Oh, heavens, don’t mention her. She’s still just a girl,” Qiu Fengyu firmly denied, cutting Coffin off.

Coffin nodded with a smile. “True, she’s only twenty-one, right?”

Twenty-one? She looked more like seventeen or eighteen to me. Qiu Fengyu shrugged, letting the subject drop.

“The case in Mexico is closed.” Halfway through the run, Coffin brought up the drug lord case from Mexico. “It’s been classified as gang drug dealers killing each other. Our people… those FBI agents stopped their investigation… it’s all over.”

“It’s over? Good—I don’t like violence.”

How shameless could he be? Coffin was speechless. She’d already decided in her heart that whether it was the Russian mob or the Mexicans, Qiu Fengyu was behind it. Yet he could still say such things with a straight face.

“All right, you know, this is—”

“This is your turf, right? No trouble allowed on your territory? I know…” Before Coffin could finish, Qiu Fengyu cut in, laughing.

“Glad you know!” Coffin shot him a glare.

On their way back, they ran into Aprilie in sportswear, apparently about to go jogging herself. They waved to her. Aprilie rolled her eyes at both of them. She hadn’t been out running for a few days either.

But whenever she went jogging, Anthony was always right behind her.

“They’re always trouble,” Coffin sighed to Qiu Fengyu as she watched Aprilie and Anthony run off. “I hope they can get through these next two months peacefully.”

“The girl’s a good person,” Qiu Fengyu said.

“You like her?”

“Oh, heavens, here we go again. She’s still just a girl!” Qiu Fengyu denied once more.

They dropped the subject, each heading home—one to the police station, the other to prepare breakfast.

However, Qiu Fengyu hadn’t expected to become something of an internet sensation. The rhythm of the cow slaughtering and the music matched so well, and in later interviews, his noodle-pulling video left these Americans astonished.

The craft was truly like art. Not just slaughtering cows, but noodle-pulling even more so—a rhythmic transformation of thick dough into fine strands with both hands. It was magical.

They’d seen noodles pulled before, but nothing like this. Watching a lump of dough become delicate noodles, the movements so graceful—even the host, after tasting them, couldn’t help but ask for seconds, leaving the Americans dumbstruck.

After several days of viral attention online, groups of tourists actually began arriving, all eager to witness Qiu Fengyu slaughter a cow and visit his noodle shop, see him pull noodles in person, then taste the results.

But the cow slaughtering wasn’t always available. When Britt heard about it, he came to Qiu Fengyu with a proposal: “Why don’t we let them watch you perform the slaughter? We charge a fee and sell them the beef…”

His ideas were solid.

“No way—if I slaughter cows every day, I won’t be able to do any other work,” Qiu Fengyu refused without hesitation.

Britt looked at him mournfully. “They pay five hundred dollars just to watch you pull noodles… For slaughtering a cow, they’d pay more, plus they’d buy the beef. I can pay you for your labor…”

“How much?”

“Two hundred dollars—viewing fee goes to you, but the beef sales belong to me…”

“No, no, no—I don’t want my hands covered in cow blood every day…” Qiu Fengyu shook his head.

“Five hundred dollars…”

“Deal.” Qiu Fengyu shook hands with him without hesitation.

So, whenever there were visitors, Britt would arrange with them: if they bought the beef from the cow slaughtered by Qiu Fengyu, then after paying a thousand dollars viewing fee, they could film the process, keep it as a souvenir, or share it online.

There really were such tourists. Usually, they’d gather ten people and form a group to watch Qiu Fengyu slaughter a cow, generally in the afternoon. Watching him slaughter a cow with rhythmic movements was truly an artistic experience.

Britt would promote enthusiastically: “Do you know why the noodles taste so good? Because Qiu uses this very beef to make the broth.”

It was persuasive. After the slaughter, the visitors would buy the beef at eight dollars per pound, far above the market rate of five dollars. They left delighted.

Indeed, when they cooked the beef at home, it tasted better than anything from the market. They felt the money was well spent.

Britt not only earned the five hundred dollar labor fee but also made a handsome profit.

But such days didn’t last. After ten days or so, with so many videos posted online, people’s interest in coming here gradually waned.