Big Data Cultivation

Ever since he began his cultivation, he had spent most of his time in Peach Blossom Valley, with the rest of it at the Hongjie Clubhouse.

His wife had some opinions about this. After bringing him lunch twice to Peach Blossom Valley and realizing her husband wasn’t deceiving her, her mood improved a bit. Nonetheless, she would still nag him to come home and “pay his dues.”

Just last night, Madame Wang had summoned him back home, and in order to avoid being ridiculed by Xu Leigang, he decided to head over earlier.

As soon as he got out of the car, he happened to see Feng Jun walking out of the villa. Rubbing his eyes, he thought, Why do I feel like something’s not quite right?

Feng Jun glanced at him, moved his mouth a bit, and finally managed to say, “Try to control it a bit, you are still laying the foundations… If you don’t exercise restraint, it could affect your progress.”

Wang Haifeng’s face turned red, a rarity for him. He considered himself still young and didn’t like anyone suggesting otherwise, so he could only offer a wry smile in explanation, “My other half at home, she just doesn’t trust people, says she wants to ‘drain me dry’… Where’s the basic trust between people, huh?”

Feng Jun nodded slightly, “Harmony in yin and yang is good, but excess is detrimental… Hand me the car keys for a moment.”

Watching the other man drive away in his Q7, Wang Haifeng stood stunned for a moment before slapping his thigh hard, “I knew something was off… Surely my hair hasn’t grown out that fast?”

“You only noticed the hair?” Xu Leigang also emerged from the villa, musing aloud, “The Master walks without making a sound now… It’s almost certain his cultivation level has greatly increased.”

“Really?” Wang Haifeng furrowed his brow in thought, then nodded slightly before grumbling, “Looks like I need to have a word with the wife… Can’t let this affect my cultivation.”

Feng Jun drove the Q7, repeating the first thing he always did upon his return—finding a barbershop for a haircut.

There was a barbershop right at the entrance of his residential community, but he would never choose to go there.

Needing a haircut every ten or so days with the hair always being quite long—how could he possibly do such a thing right by his own front door?

Actually, he had stopped Wang Haifeng because he had some errands he wanted to arrange for him. As a master, it’s only natural for the disciples to undertake tasks on one’s behalf.

But upon reconsideration, for the sake of caution, it was better to keep Wang Haifeng and the others from knowing too much. It was safer not to fully reveal himself to anyone! This was critical for keeping his greatest secret safe.

The loss of yang energy in Wang Haifeng wasn’t particularly severe; it was just something he mentioned in passing.

After getting his haircut, Feng Jun headed to the auto parts city and placed an order with the modification shop owner for another twenty retrofitted farm vehicles, ten all-terrain vehicles, and ten modified motorcycles.

For the shop owner, the transaction was sizable, so despite dealing with a repeat customer, he requested an advance payment of five hundred thousand.

To Feng Jun, this sum was trivial. Next, he made reservations for generators, walkie-talkies, and lighting equipment, among other things.

After attending to these matters, he bought two laptops and, sitting in his car, began searching for relevant information using his mobile phone’s hotspot.

He was looking for a car that could be powered by burning firewood. According to his father, Feng Wenhui, in the 1950s, some buses ran on firewood, and their roofs were even fitted with sizable steamers.

Moreover, as the internet suggested, the country managed by Kim Il-Sung, due to sanctions and extreme scarcity of resources, still had vehicles that ran on firewood.

In Feng Jun’s opinion, if firewood could power a car, it could naturally power a generator as well.

However, his search online led him to discover a more useful artifact: the Boiler Camel Motorcycle!

As the name implies, this contraption consisted of a boiler hauled by a machine, which, once fired up, could serve as a generator’s engine.

As someone from the arts, Feng Jun didn’t quite understand the mechanics, only knowing that such devices were now obsolete and that he would have to custom order any such item.

Though he was from an arts background, he had friends who were engineers, and after taking out his mobile phone, he flipped through his contacts for a while and finally found a name: Mou Miao.

Mou Miao was his deskmate during the first year of high school, a kind person with little interest in socializing and a passion for tinkering with mechanical models and circuit boards, displaying a techie vibe. They’d had a good relationship.

Mou Miao later attended a 211 university and, after graduating, landed a job in Yongyang at a joint venture company, apparently doing quite well.

Feng Jun had always kept his phone number, but after meeting once during the Spring Festival of their graduation year, Feng’s own circumstances became somewhat embarrassing, and he lost touch.

He thought for a moment and then made the call.

Mou Miao answered the phone, his voice as gentle as ever, “Hello, who is this? Please go ahead.”

“Shui Da, it’s Feng Jun,” Feng Jun addressed him by his nickname, “How have you been lately?”

“You’re the flower-thief, huh,” Mou Miao chuckled, and it was apparent that he was pretty happy too, “I called you this summer, but your number was out of service.”

“Oh, I changed my number,” Feng Jun said nonchalantly, “I’m now working in Zhengyang. But I won’t be using this number for much longer anyway, planning to get a better one.”

He did indeed plan to change his number. The one he got upon arriving in Zhengyang was chosen at random and few people knew it—mostly the Hongjie crowd. Most importantly, the number he had picked up casually was too hard to remember.

Now that he had money, he planned to get a lucky sequence or a big number of some sort, but he had yet to find the time to do so.

“Oh, then just call me after you’ve changed it,” Mou Miao was, as always, easy to talk to, “You’re calling me for a reason, aren’t you?”

“Let’s talk about my thing later,” Feng Jun said with a smile, “How have you been in Yongyang?”

“Not particularly well,” Mou Miao spoke calmly, “The company downsized, and I got laid off. I’m currently looking for work in the capital.”

“What?” Feng Jun was astonished, thinking Mou’s temper was exceptionally good. To be so calm after a layoff, where he himself nearly felt like hitting someone when he was fired from the gym, “Is it easy to find work in the capital?”

“Not easy,” Mou Miao’s voice finally carried a hint of frustration.

Amidst that frustration was also a touch of helplessness, “If I continue in my field, finding a job won’t be a problem, but it’d pay less than what I got in Yongyang. I can’t let my former company have the last laugh… Wouldn’t that prove I wasn’t worth the salary?”

Feng Jun paused briefly before replying with a smile, “Exactly, you have to make your former company regret letting go of such talent.”

“I’m no great talent,” Mou Miao said weakly, “After being in Yongyang and then coming to the capital, you realize what the world never lacks is talent, there are just too many incredible people.”

The capital, of course, was full of talented people! Feng Jun continued to chat and laugh with him for a while.

Hearing that Mou Miao was unemployed, he was somewhat moved, pondering whether he should entice his old classmate to Zhengyang to join his team—Mou had a bottled-up personality and was very obedient, so there was no worry that he wouldn’t fall in line.

However, he quickly dismissed the idea. Mou Miao’s nature made him a play-by-the-rules kind of guy, and Feng Jun decided not to disrupt his tranquil life.

In the end, Mou Miao steered the conversation back, “Come on, Feng, stop beating around the bush. What’s up?”

Feng Jun then shared his thoughts.

There was a long silence from Mou Miao before he expressed his astonishment, “A Boiler Camel Motorcycle-powered generator has no issues technologically, if one doesn’t consider pollution; it’s just that the thermal efficiency is rather low. Technically, it’s mature, and there are no problems.”

Of course, I know it’s technically mature, Feng Jun silently gave a wry smile, “So… what about production?”

“Production… naturally, there’s no problem,” Mou Miao replied very directly, “The issue now is that it has to be custom-made.”

I know it needs to be custom-made, Feng Jun’s mouth twitched slightly, “Then… where is a suitable place to get them custom-made?”

“You’re asking me?” Mou Miao was surprised, “Around Zhengyang, you can find a place anywhere, especially near Chaoge.”

“I’m not familiar with that, am I?” Feng Jun gave a dry laugh, thinking that with this information, he should be able to solve the problem by contacting Wang Haifeng.

But since he had decided to keep the news to himself, he wasn’t going to change course lightly. An idea struck him, “I was thinking, Big Water, since you’re not busy anyway, how about coming over to help me keep an eye on setting this up? At least ten units for the first batch… money is not an issue.”

From the other end of the phone, a bitter chuckle could be heard, “Feng, I might be unemployed, but I’ve saved quite a bit. You think I’d take your money?”

“It’s not my money,” Feng Jun stated candidly, “I’m helping a boss with this, he owes me a favor, and I can call the shots… Anyway, someone’s got to make that money, right? It’s up to you if you can spare the time.”

“Time… I have, and it might be nice to treat it as a trip to Zhengyang,” Mou Miao answered hesitantly, “But I’m not familiar with the place and could only help you look after things, which shouldn’t be too big a problem.”

“I have acquaintances, and I’ll introduce you when the time comes,” Feng Jun thought of Wu Shao, his father Wu Jianguo was doing well in Funiu, and Sheng Tang Construction was well-known. The best part was that the Wu Family didn’t overlap with his circle of friends, eliminating the possibility of information leaks.

“Well… okay, I’ll go buy a plane ticket right now,” Mou Miao hesitated before replying. However, just as he was about to hang up, he murmured quietly, “You could’ve done the money-making yourself, what’s wrong with a literary man?”

Despite saying so, he arrived very quickly, and by 7 o’clock that evening, he had landed in Zhengyang by plane.

Feng Jun was already waiting at the exit. Seeing Mou Miao’s tall figure emerge, he waved eagerly, “Old Mou, this way… huh?”

He suddenly noticed that Mou Miao was pulling a suitcase in one hand, and on the other side, a petite young woman was following him.

Mou Miao was about one-eighty-two meters tall, and the young woman was roughly one-fifty-five, the stark contrast in their heights was quite evident.

Mou Miao turned towards the call, frowned slightly, “You are… damn, Feng, when did you get so tall?”

(Updated to here, summoning monthly tickets.)