Chapter Text
CAYQ- 01
There were a lot of benefits to having a celestial awakening at a young age. Well actually Yue Qi himself didn't know what it was so he just called it a celestial awakening bestowed by the God's to protect his A-Jiu.
He doesn't know from when it started it's as if he started seeing visions from a world that's not his, but a faraway land where humans live peacefully. But I guess not all humans are peaceful because he also realized that he lived in a Novel world. That's right! The world they live in is actually just words in a book! But that's not really Yue Qi's concern! The most hateful thing is that his precious A-Jiu is the villain of this Novel world! And gets killed horribly.
Although the visions are blurry and uncomprehenseble. Yue Qi would know those snarky remarks even if heard it coming from a well! He only knew that his Shen Jiu was in grave danger.... And so he ran way from the slave traders and took his precious A-Jiu with him! ✌︎˶╹ꇴ╹˶✌︎
He got to spend his childhood with Shen Jiu running from town to town, hiding, doing menial labour but hey at least they're together! And they're free!
But there was one thing. One singular, persistent, nagging thing that stood as the biggest drawback. Something he was truly curious about from the visions.
HOT POT!
From his visions he could see many different and delicious cuisine. And hot pot was the one he really wanted to try because it looked so fun and delicious! Also from a broke man like Yue Qi it felt like a good business opportunity.
"Huo Guo?" Shen Jiu grimaced as he clumsily repeated the unfamiliar term.
"No Baobei it's HOT POT!"
"What kind of ridiculous name is that? Did someone prank you again? You fool, why must you believe in everything people say? Remember that time the vegetable vendor told you that radishes grew sweeter if you sang to them at midnight? You spent three shichen crooning to a vegetable patch while the neighbors threw shoes at you."
Yue Qi's expression twitched with the memory. "The radishes were sweeter," he muttered defensively. "And the neighbors missed."
"They hit you twice."
"Once. The second one was a warning shot."
"Qi-ge. They were shoes. They have no warning shots."
"The point stands." Yue Qi straightened his shoulders, attempting to reclaim some dignity in the face of his fiancé's devastatingly unimpressed stare.
"And no, this isn't a prank. I've come up with this idea on my own." Yue Qi lied through his teeth. He didn't really want to tell Shen Jiu about his celestial awakening yet, he felt insecure that his Baobei might think he's a monster ꃋᴖꃋ
Shen Jiu's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline with the speed of someone who had heard this exact opening before and was already calculating the cost of whatever disaster was about to follow. "Really," he said flatly. "And how did you come up with this new thing I've never heard before?"
They were seated in the small courtyard of their equally small house—a modest dwelling that had seen better days and was currently held together by determination and make shift slug glue and what Yue Qi suspected was at least three different types of prayer. The roof leaked in two places. The walls were thinner than a mosquitos wings. And the front door had developed a mysterious squeak that sounded suspiciously like it was mocking at their poverty them every time they entered.
But it was theirs, purchased through blood, sweat, tears, and an alarming number of odd jobs that Yue Qi had taken on while Shen Jiu studied whatever books he could find with the intensity of a man preparing for an examination that would determine the fate of the world.
Yue Qi took a deep breath. This was his moment. His pitch. The culmination of months of planning and years of longing.
"So imagine a meal," he began, spreading his hands in what he hoped was an enticing gesture, "where everyone sits around a communal pot of simmering broth. And you choose your own ingredients—meats, vegetables, noodles, all raw—and you cook them yourself, right there at the table."
Shen Jiu stared at him.
"And then you dip them in sauces," Yue Qi continued, warming to his subject with the enthusiasm of a man who had been waiting for someone to ask about his niche interests for approximately fifteen years. "Different sauces! Sesame paste, garlic oil, spicy chili, whatever you want. And you eat with friends and family, and it's warm and comforting and—"
"So it's a stew."
"No, it's—"
"You're describing stew."
"It's interactive stew," Yue Qi corrected with great dignity. "The cooking process is part of the experience. Everyone participates."
Shen Jiu's frown deepened. "Why would people participate in cooking their own food when they could simply... have someone cook it for them? That defeats the entire purpose of going to an establishment."
"Because it's fun!"
"Fun." The word hung in the air between them like a particularly skeptical bird. "Cleaning our water buckets when the well freezes is more efficient than this. At least that serves a purpose."
Yue Qi felt his carefully constructed enthusiasm wobble like a table with one short leg. "It's... it's about the experience, Xiao-Jiu. The shared activity. The warmth of the broth, the sizzle of meat, the joy of choosing exactly what you want to eat and cooking it to your own preference."
"It sounds like work."
"It's leisure work."
"How can work be leisure?"
"Because you're doing it with people you care about!" Yue Qi's voice had risen slightly with the passion of his conviction. "Imagine us, sitting together in the evening, with a pot of fragrant broth between us. We talk, we laugh, we cook our favorite ingredients, we feed each other choice pieces of meat—"
Shen Jiu's ears turned slightly pink at that, though his expression remained firmly in unimpressed territory.
"We can do that now. With a regular meal. Without the extra steps."
"But think of the variety! You could have beef and mushrooms and cabbage and noodles all in one meal, cooked fresh as you eat them!"
"I can have variety now. By making multiple dishes."
"Xiao-Jiu." Yue Qi leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Have you ever seen a group of people gather around a table, each with their own chopsticks raised, all cooking their own food in a shared pot, the steam rising around their faces, their voices overlapping in lively conversation?"
"You just described our dinner three nights ago, minus the shared pot and with more complaining about the landlord."
"THIS IS DIFFERENT."
"How?"
"IT JUST IS."
"Your argument is compelling," Shen Jiu said sarcastically . "Truly, I am moved by your eloquence."
Yue Qi slumped back, defeated by the impenetrable wall of his fiancé's practicality. This was not going according to plan. He had expected some resistance—Shen Jiu approached new ideas with the enthusiasm of a cat being introduced to bathwater—but he had hoped that his vision would shine through.
"It sounds stupid," he sighed, the admission deflating him further. "Maybe people won't like it. Maybe they'll just stay home and make regular stew like sensible people. Maybe we don't get enough money to repair our house like I promised, or the wedding robes that we saw down the street."
That's right Yue Qi forgot to mention that's an Alpha now! And naturally his Baobei presented as an Omega!
(A/N- You think I'd ever write a fic with no omegaverse?)
Shen Jiu's eyes flickered with something at the mention of the wedding robes, no matter how tough he acts which Omega doesn't dream of marrying the love of his life?—a brief softening that was quickly suppressed beneath his usual defensive exterior. "The wedding robes were too expensive anyway," he muttered. "The embroidery was excessive."
"It was beautiful. You looked like a painting when I imagined yourself in them."
Shen Jiu turned pink. "How vulgar! Also I do not like the robes!"
"You stared at them for fifteen minutes. The vendor got scared and shooed us away"
"He was being nosy. And I was simply examining the craftsmanship. To see if we could make similar ones ourselves for less money."
"With what embroidery skills?" Yue Qi asked gently. "Xiao-Jiu, the last time you attempted needlework, you sewed your sleeve to the tablecloth and didn't notice for two days."
"That was one time."
"It was three times. In one week."
"Those were calculated experiments" Shen Jiu huffed.
Yue Qi couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. This was, perhaps, what he loved most about Shen Jiu—the way he defended his pride with the ferocity of a cornered animal, even when everyone involved knew the position was indefensible. It was infuriating and endearing in equal measure, like trying to reason with a very beautiful, very angry cat who had decided that the mail carrier was their mortal enemy.
"The point is," Yue Qi said, steering the conversation back to his original pitch, "I want to try this. I've always wanted to try this. It's been a dream of mine for quite a while. So... what do you think?"
Shen Jiu frowned at him for a very long time. The silence stretched between them like a drawn bowstring, tense and quivering with potential. Yue Qi could practically see the calculations happening behind those sharp green eyes—cost assessments, market analysis, risk evaluation, all conducted with the precision of a man who had learned at a young age that financial security was the only thing standing between him and the streets.
"You have to get supplies and ingredients in bulk," Shen Jiu finally said.
Yue Qi's heart leapt. "Yes."
"You'll need to create a menu."
"Of course."
"You'll need to find a way to keep the broth hot at each table without setting the building on fire."
"... I had not thought of that part."
"And," Shen Jiu emphasized pointedly, "you have to be efficient with money. Last time I checked, that was never your strong suit."
Yue Qi fiddled with his hands, the familiar guilt rising like bile. It was true—he had never been good with money. From childhood to adulthood it was always him who got scammed by bad people. This stupidity has put him and Shen Jiu on the verge of bankruptcy many times! ՞߹ - ߹՞
His poor financial decisions didn't just affect him. They affected Shen Jiu. And Shen Jiu, who had spent his entire childhood learning that every copper coin mattered, who had counted grains of rice like they were precious gems, who had never once complained about their poverty but had instead channeled his frustration into making sure they never went hungry—Shen Jiu deserved better than a fiancé who couldn't balance a budget.
"I was hoping you'd help me..." Yue Qi said quietly.
Shen Jiu let out a long sigh, the sound carrying the weight of approximately three hundred "I told you so"s and an undisclosed number of resigned acceptances. "It won't be easy, you know that? Running a business is not some fun hobby you could indulge in. It's long hours and difficult customers and the constant threat of failure hanging over your head like a sword. And that's assuming we can even attract enough patrons to make a profit, which—given the complete novelty of this 'interactive stew' concept—is far from guaranteed."
Yue Qi nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. I will commit my time and effort into making this happen. Qi-ge promises."
The use of his chosen nickname—the one that Shen Jiu had given him when they were children, the one that carried with it all the warmth and trust of their shared history—seemed to have an effect. Shen Jiu's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension in his jaw easing by a fraction.
"You're really determined about this," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I am Baobei."
"You've thought about it for a long time."
"For years, actually."
Shen Jiu's brows furrowed, green eyes narrowed in what would seem like a scowl, but Yue Qi knew this was the expression he made when he was in deep thought. The same expression he had worn when deciding whether to trust the strange boy who had appeared in the slavers' compound claiming to know a way out. The same expression he had worn when weighing the risks of running away against the certain misery of staying.
Having firsthand experience of his brutal honesty and intolerance for ideas that would serve no purpose, Yue Qi was sure Shen Jiu would vehemently reject the proposal. He braced himself for the inevitable criticism and ready to go to bed so can continue to mourn.
So it practically gave him whiplash when the younger man groaned and said, "They better sell well."
Yue Qi blinked, mouth agape. "You... you're interested?"
"You seem to want to make it work that badly."
"Really?"
"... Is there an echo going on in your brain?"
"So you're sure? Like, really, really sure?"
Shen Jiu glared. "Are you saying nonsense just to let me down, Qi-ge? I said I'm in. Hurry up before I change my mind."
YES! THE HOT POT SHOP WAS APPROVED BY MY BAOBEI!!
The internal celebration was so intense that Yue Qi was surprised it didn't manifest physically in the form of fireworks or a spontaneous musical number. He had dreamed of this moment for years.
He gave Shen Jiu the biggest hug, wrapping his arms around the smaller man with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever reuniting with its owner after a long separation. Shen Jiu, for his part, reacted with all the enthusiasm of a cat being forcibly cuddled against its will.
"Let go of me, you absolute fool!" Shen Jiu clawed at his arms, his nails finding purchase in the fabric of Yue Qi's robes. "We're in public! Have you no shame?!"
"Never," Yue Qi declared, squeezing tighter. "I have never had shame, and I refuse to start now. This is the happiest moment of my life!"
"Your ribs are cracking!"
"That's the sound of my heart expanding with joy!"
"That doesn't even make anatomical sense!"
"I'm a romantic, not a physician!"
Shen Jiu eventually managed to escape through a combination of strategic pinching and what Yue Qi suspected was a threat to redirect the household budget toward purchasing nothing but plain congee for the next month. He emerged from the embrace looking ruffled and indignant, his hair slightly disheveled and his cheeks flushed with a combination of exertion and embarrassment.
"You're impossible," Shen Jiu muttered, straightening his robes with sharp, efficient movements. "Absolutely impossible. I don't know why I agreed to marry you."
"Because I'm charming and persistent and I make excellent congee?"
"Your congee is acceptable at best."
"You ate three bowls of it yesterday."
"I was being polite."
"You never eat three bowls of anything to be polite. You once ate a single dumpling at the Chen family's banquet and claimed you were full for three days."
"The dumpling was adequate. I was simply... rationing my appetite."
"For three days?"
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes diecided to ignore him.
Yue Qi grinned, the expression stretching across his face with the brightness of a man whose entire future had just been handed to him on a silver platter. "So," he said, his voice practically vibrating with excitement. "Where do we start?"
Shen Jiu's expression shifted from flustered to calculating so quickly that it was like watching a river change course. "We start with a budget," he said firmly. "A detailed, itemized budget that accounts for every copper we spend. And then we research suppliers—I won't have us purchasing ingredients at inflated prices because you made friends with a vegetable vendor who told you his cabbages were 'specially cultivated with love.'"
"To be fair, they were very good cabbages."
"They were regular cabbages sold at triple the market rate because you're too kind to haggle."
"I'm not too kind to haggle, I just... Didn't want to waste my time" Yue Qi replied meekly
"You value not hurting anyone's feelings"
"That's not—" Yue Qi paused, considering. "That's not entirely inaccurate."
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness beneath the exasperation that made Yue Qi's heart flutter in his chest. "I'll handle the finances," Shen Jiu continued, "and the supplier negotiations. You can focus on... whatever it is you do that makes people want to give you things."
"I'm friendly?"
"You're pathologically agreeable."
"That's just a mean way to say friendly."
"It's an honest way to say that if I left you alone with our savings for a single afternoon, you'd return with a cart full of decorative lanterns and no money for actual ingredients."
Yue Qi opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. The lantern incident had been... well, it had been a learning experience. And in his defense, the lanterns had been very pretty, and the merchant had seemed so sad about not being able to sell them, and Shen Jiu had been out of town visiting a potential employer, so there had been no one to stop him from making what was, in retrospect, a poorly-timed purchase.
"We have fifteen decorative lanterns now," he said weakly. "The house looks festive."
Shen Jiu huffed and looked at the giant Alpha "Qi-Ge?"
"Mm?"
Shen Jiu's expression softened slightly, the sharp edges of his face rounding with something that might have been affection, if affection were a cautious, guarded thing that had learned to survive in harsh conditions. "We're really going to do this, aren't we? We're going to open a shop that serves food no one has ever heard of?"
"That's the plan."
"It's a terrible plan."
"It's a bold plan. There's a difference."
"What's the difference?"
"Bold plans are terrible plans that work out in the end."
Shen Jiu stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head with the resignation of a man who had long ago accepted that his life would be filled with inexplicable decisions and questionable judgment calls. "Fine," he said. "But if this fails, I'm going to spend the rest of our lives reminding you of it."
"If this fails, I'll deserve it."
"And you'll do the dishes for a month."
"I already do the dishes."
"For a year, then."
"But I've always done it"
"Ok be quiet now!"
"Deal," Yue Qi was thoroughly confused but whatever, he said, extending his hand.
Shen Jiu took it, his grip firm and calloused from years of hard work. "Deal," he echoed.
They shook on it like merchants finalizing a trade agreement, and Yue Qi had to resist the urge to pull Shen Jiu into another hug. This was progress. This was partnership. This was the beginning of something that would either be a spectacular success or a spectacular failure, and either way, they would face it together.
Now he just had to figure out how to actually make hot pot work in this Xianxia world.
The first problem was the broth.
After several attempts offscreen (because the author was too lazy to write any of it, which was frankly unfair given how much detail had been devoted to the initial pitch—but the author was also the one holding the narrative reins, so Yue Qi supposed he couldn't complain too much), the broth situation was resolved through a combination of traditional recipes, experimental substitutions, and one memorable incident involving a spirit beast that had somehow gotten into their test batch and infused the entire pot with what could only be described as "the taste of regret and Yue Qi s tears"
Things like chilli peppers and garlic were not still widely known. So, Yue Qi still had to burn some money to make a deal with a foreign merchant.
The second problem was the heat source.
This was more complicated. Regular fire was too unpredictable, threatening to either boil the broth too vigorously or let it cool to an unappetizing lukewarm. Specialized cultivation tools were too expensive for a fledgling business. And the less said about the failed experiment with warming talismans, the better—Shen Jiu had refused to speak to him for two days after that particular disaster, though the burns had healed nicely with the application of expensive salves that Shen Jiu had insisted on purchasing even though Yue Qi had protested that he was fine.
("You're not fine, you idiot, your eyebrows are singed off!")
("They'll grow back Baobei!")
("That's not the point! The point is that you nearly set yourself on fire for the sake of soup!")
("It's not just soup, it's hot pot!")
("IT'S THE SAME THING, QI-GE!")
Eventually, they had discovered the solution in the most unexpected of places: the Glutinous Spiked Leaf Bug Snakes.
These creatures—which lurked in paddy fields, disturbing the rice planters and eating all the hard work they had invested in growing their crops—were considered pests by the local agricultural community. They were small, slimy, and possessed a particular type of heat-generating organ that allowed them to regulate their body temperature in even the coldest conditions.
When properly harvested and processed, this organ could be transformed into a small, portable heating element that could maintain a consistent temperature for hours. It was, in essence, the xianxia equivalent of a portable stove, and it was the key to making hot pot work in this world.
The discovery had come about through a combination of accident and desperation. Yue Qi had been helping a local farmer clear his paddies of the pests (for a modest fee, of course—Shen Jiu had insisted on negotiating the terms), and he had noticed that the creatures' bodies remained warm even after death. Curious, he had conducted a series of experiments that had eventually led to the development of a reliable heating system.
His Baobei is so smart!!
Shen Jius process was simple:
1. Slay the creatures (which was easier said than done, given their speed and tendency to hide in the mud).
2. Collect their heat-generating organs.
3. Place the organs in direct sunlight for a shichen (two hours).
4. The organs would crystallize and solidify into a stable form.
5. Grind the crystallized organs into a powder.
6. Mix the powder with a special combination of oils and waxes.
7. Shape the mixture into small, flat discs.
8. Ignite the discs with a spark of spiritual energy.
9. Place the ignited disc beneath a pot of broth.
10. Enjoy perfectly heated soup for up to four hours.
It was, Yue Qi had to admit, a rather grim process. But the creatures were pests, and their removal was a service to the community, and if their organs could be repurposed to create something that brought people joy, wasn't that a better fate than simply being thrown away?
Shen Jiu had been skeptical at first, but after seeing the system in action—and after calculating the profit margins involved in selling "portable heating discs" as a byproduct of their creature-removal services—he had come around.
And so, after months of preparation, trial and error, and at least one incident involving a runaway cart full of vegetables (long story, don't ask), Qijiu Hot Pot was born.
The grand opening was, in a word, chaotic.
The shop itself was modest—a single-story building with a main dining area that could accommodate perhaps thirty customers at a time, plus a small kitchen in the back where ingredients were prepared and broths were assembled. They had invested in sturdy wooden tables with specially designed indentations to hold the heating discs, and each table was equipped with a central pot that could be filled with the customer's choice of broth.
The menu was simple but varied:
· Clear Herb Broth: A light, fragrant base made with fresh vegetables and medicinal herbs. Recommended for those who preferred subtle flavors.
· Spicy Pepper Broth: A bold, fiery base that would make even the most hardened cultivator break a sweat. Not recommended for the faint of heart.
· Pork Bone Broth: A rich, creamy base that had been simmered for hours to extract maximum flavor. The house specialty.
· Split Pot: Half clear herb, half spicy pepper, for those who couldn't decide.
And then there were the ingredients, displayed on a long table at the front of the shop like a buffet of culinary possibilities:
· Thin-sliced beef and pork, cut so finely that they cooked in seconds
· Fresh vegetables of every variety, from crisp cabbage to tender mushrooms
· Hand-pulled noodles, made fresh each morning
· Tofu, both fresh and fried
· Dumplings, filled with a savory mixture of meat and vegetables
· And, of course, the house-made dipping sauces, which Shen Jiu had spent weeks perfecting
The first customers had arrived hesitantly, drawn by the novelty of the concept and the promise of a free sample for anyone who visited on opening day. They had stared at the raw ingredients with confusion, unsure of what to do with the plates of uncooked meat and the bubbling pots of broth.
"Is this... a joke?" one woman had asked, eyeing the thin-sliced beef suspiciously. "Are we supposed to eat this raw?"
"No, no," Yue Qi had explained, demonstrating the proper technique with the patience of a teacher guiding a particularly slow student. "You take the meat, you dip it in the broth, and you cook it yourself. Like this."
He had plucked a slice of beef from the plate, swirled it in the bubbling broth for a few seconds until it turned from red to brown, then dipped it in the sesame sauce and popped it into his mouth. "See? Simple."
The woman had looked skeptical but had followed his lead, and after her first bite, her expression had transformed from doubt to delight. "It's... it's actually good!"
"Of course it is!" Yue Qi had beamed. "Hot pot is the perfect food! It's warm, it's filling, it's customizable—everyone can choose exactly what they want to eat and cook it exactly how they like it!"
And from that first hesitant customer, word had spread like wildfire.
By the end of the first week, Qijiu Hot Pot had developed a loyal following. By the end of the first month, they had a waiting list for tables during peak hours.
The reviews were glowing in the local newsletter!!
"The spicy broth changed my life! I've never tasted anything so bold and flavorful!" - A young cultivator from Qing Jing Peak
"The clear herb broth is the perfect remedy for a long day of sword practice. I feel rejuvenated just thinking about it!" - A disciple from Bai Zhan Peak
"I came for the food but stayed for the experience. There's something special about gathering around a shared pot with friends and cooking together. It brings people closer." - An anonymous patron
And of course, there were the inevitable negative reviews, which Shen Jiu collected and analyzed with the intensity of a scholar studying ancient texts:
"Too interactive. I came to eat, not to cook. If I wanted to prepare my own food, I would have stayed home." - One-star review from a grumpy elderly man
"The spicy broth is too spicy. I ordered it expecting a mild heat and instead my mouth feels like it's been set on fire. Do not recommend." - Two-star review from a woman who had clearly ignored the multiple warnings about the spice level
"One of the staff members gave me a dirty look when I asked for a fork instead of chopsticks. I understand that this is a traditional establishment, but surely accommodations should be made for us foreign merchants right?" - Three-star review from someone who had, in fact, been given a fork but had then complained that the fork made it difficult to fish ingredients out of the pot
(The staff member in question had been Shen Jiu, and the "dirty look" had been his normal resting expression. But Yue Qi had apologized profusely and implemented a fork-friendly ingredient policy, so it all worked out in the end.)
But despite the occasional negative review, the shop flourished. And through it all, Yue Qi and Shen Jiu worked side by side, building their business and their lives together with a partnership that was as solid as the mountains that surrounded their city.
It was, in short, everything Yue Qi had ever dreamed of.
Now, if only the author would stop trying to interfere with the plot, everything would be perfect.
˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗
Shang Qinghua's mouth hung open in disbelief as he stared at what was clearly a hot pot restaurant in the world of PIDW and choked when he read the establishment's name: Qijiu Hot Pot. He had come here after hearing Qi Qingqi rave about it during their mandatory Peak Lord meeting—a meeting that had been running for an hour and had accomplished absolutely nothing except establishing that some people really liked to hear themselves talk and other people really wanted to murder those people.
(Honestly, the meeting would have gone much faster if Yue Qingyuan were sect leader to mediate arguments and maybe Shen Qingqiu to cut out the unimportant topics to keep the meeting in check. But that was an entirely different issue to worry about another time, and Shang Qinghua had more pressing concerns at the moment. Like the fact that hot pot existed in his novel and he had no idea how or why.)
Obviously, he hadn't believed what he heard. Hot pot? In PIDW? The stallion novel he had written specifically to appeal to the masses with nonstop action and endless papapa scenes? The same novel that had featured exactly zero scenes of characters enjoying warm, communal dining experiences because that would have gotten in the way of the fight scenes and the—ahem—other scenes?
It was impossible. It was absurd. It was...
Absolutely, undeniably real.
He had traveled quite a distance away from Cang Qiong Mountain to see for himself, using a combination of hurried walking, opportunistic hitchhiking with a passing caravan, and one very confused sword flight that had ended with him tumbling into a pile of hay. And now he stood before the entrance to Qijiu Hot Pot, staring at the sign as if it might transform into something more reasonable if he looked at it hard enough.
The sign remained stubbornly hot pot-related.
"No fucking way," he muttered to himself. "No fucking way."
But the evidence was right there in front of him. The building was bustling with activity, customers streaming in and out with satisfied expressions and the lingering aroma of spices clinging to their clothes. The line stretched out the door and around the corner, a serpentine queue of hungry patrons waiting for their chance to experience the culinary wonder that had taken the city by storm.
Shang Qinghua joined the line, his mind reeling with possibilities. Who had created this? Another transmigrator, obviously—there was no way a native inhabitant of PIDW would have independently developed the concept of hot pot. But who? And how? And most importantly, why hadn't they contacted him?
Well, that last question was easier to answer. Shang Qinghua was, after all, the author of this world, and if a transmigrator had ended up here, they might not be particularly happy to meet the person responsible for creating the dangerous, unpredictable world they now inhabited. Especially if they had read the novel and knew about all the terrible things that happened to the characters.
But still! Us transmigrators had to stick together! It was lonely being the only person in an entire world who knew what a smartphone was, and the isolation was starting to wear on him. He would have given anything to have someone to talk to about the things he missed from his old life—someone who would understand the pain of living without internet access or delivery food or the simple pleasure of watching cat videos at three in the morning.
The line moved slowly, giving him ample time to observe the establishment from the outside. It was well-constructed, with a welcoming facade and large windows that allowed passersby to glimpse the activity within. The sign was professionally painted, the characters neat and legible. And the smell...
The smell.
Shang Qinghua's stomach growled loudly, drawing the attention of the people around him. He smiled sheepishly, patting his belly. "Sorry, sorry. Haven't eaten yet. The food here must be really good, huh?"
The woman in front of him—a middle-aged matron with a kind face and a basket of vegetables—nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, it's wonderful! My family comes here every week. The pork bone broth is my favorite—so rich and comforting! And the dipping sauces! You absolutely must try the garlic oil."
"Garlic oil?" Shang Qinghua's mouth watered at the thought. "That sounds amazing."
"It is! And the owners are such lovely people. The alpha is always so friendly and helpful, and his partner he Omega....well, he's a bit prickly, but you can tell he cares deeply about the quality of the food. He once personally came to our table to explain the proper way to cook the beef so it wouldn't be too tough."
"Proper way to cook the beef?"
"You know, swirling it in the broth just long enough to cook it through but not so long that it becomes chewy. It's an art, really." The woman's eyes grew misty with the memory. "I'd been overcooking my meat for years before they taught me the proper technique. The shame of it!"
Shang Qinghua nodded sympathetically, even as his internal monologue was running at full volume. The owners are clearly cultivators. Or at least, one of them is. The alpha, friendly one sounds like it could be anyone, but the prickly one... It sounds oddly like Shen QingQiu....could it be Shen Qingqiu? No, that's impossible. Shen Qingqiu would never lower himself to work in a restaurant. And what would he be doing outside of Cang Qiong Mountain?
Shang QinhHuas head was boiling, nothing seemed to go right in this weird omegaverse spinoff PIDW world!
The possibilities were endless and deeply confusing.
The line continued to move, and after what felt like an eternity (but was actually only about an hour—the restaurant was efficient), Shang Qinghua finally made it to the front. He was greeted by a young woman with a cheerful smile and a notepad.
"Welcome to Qijiu Hot Pot! Table for one, or will you be joining someone?"
"Just me," Shang Qinghua said, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as he felt. "I'm, uh, new here. What do you recommend?"
The hostess's smile widened. "For first-time guests, I'd recommend the split pot—half clear herb, half spicy pepper—so you can experience both of our signature broths. And then you'll want to select your ingredients from our fresh table. We have a wide variety of meats, vegetables, and house-made noodles."
"Great. Perfect. That sounds... perfect." Shang Qinghua felt like he was dreaming. This was all so normal. So wonderfully, blessedly normal. He had missed hot pot so much, and now here it was, in the middle of the cultivation world, like a gift from the culinary gods.
He was led to a small table near the window, where a pot of split broth was already simmering atop a peculiar flat disc that emitted a steady, even heat. The hostess explained the process—select ingredients, cook them in the broth, dip them in sauce, eat, repeat—and then left him to his own devices.
Shang Qinghua approached the ingredient table with the reverence of a pilgrim visiting a holy site. There was thin-sliced beef, so fresh it practically glistened. There was pork, marbled with just the right amount of fat. There were vegetables of every color and variety, from leafy greens to root vegetables to mushrooms that looked like they had been picked that very morning.
And there were noodles. Hand-pulled noodles, made fresh in the kitchen and brought out in generous portions. Shang Qinghua had to resist the urge to weep.
He filled his plate with an assortment of ingredients—a little of everything, because he wanted to try it all—and returned to his table. The broth was bubbling gently, releasing a fragrant steam that made his stomach growl with anticipation.
He started with the beef, following the technique the hostess had described: pick up a slice with his chopsticks, dip it in the broth, swirl it around for a few seconds until the color changed, then remove it and dip it in the sauce. The first bite was transcendent.
"Oh my god," he moaned, his eyes closing in bliss. "This is amazing."
He continued eating, working his way through the ingredients with the methodical approach of a man who had been denied good food for far too long. The clear herb broth was light and fragrant, the perfect complement to the fresh vegetables. The spicy pepper broth was fiery and bold, making his nose run and his eyes water in the best possible way.
But it was the pork bone broth that truly captured his heart. Rich and creamy, with a depth of flavor that spoke to hours of careful simmering, it elevated every ingredient it touched. The noodles, in particular, were spectacular when cooked in the pork bone broth—soft and chewy, with just the right amount of bite.
By the time he had finished, Shang Qinghua was in a state of culinary nirvana. He sat back in his chair, patting his full belly with contentment, and surveyed the restaurant with new eyes.
The owners had done an incredible job. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the service was attentive without being overbearing, and the food was nothing short of spectacular. It was, in every way, the hot pot experience he had been craving since he first transmigrated into this world.
He had to meet them. He had to know who was responsible for this miracle.
"Excuse me," he called to a passing staff member. "Could I speak with the owner? I'd like to personally thank them for their wonderful food."
The staff member—a young Omega with a pleasant face and slightly frazzled expression—nodded. "Of course! I'll let Master Yue know you'd like to see him."
Master Yue. Shang Qinghua's heart skipped a beat. Could it be...?
His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when a tall, handsome man approached his table with a warm smile. The man was dressed in simple but well-made robes, his hair pulled back in a practical style, and his eyes held the kind of gentle kindness that made people instinctively trust him.
Shang Qinghua knew that face. He had written that face, describing it in loving detail across dozens of chapters. It was the face of Yue Qingyuan—the future sect leader of Cang Qiong Mountain, the eldest of the current generation of Peak Lords, and the man whose tragic backstory had been revealed in the novel's most emotionally devastating arc.
Except... this Yue Qingyuan wasn't wearing sect leader robes. He was wearing an apron, and there was a smudge of flour on his cheek, and he was standing in the middle of a hot pot restaurant that he had apparently founded.
"Welcome to Qijiu Hot Pot," Yue Qingyuan said with a warm smile. "I heard you wanted to speak with me?"
Shang Qinghua's brain short-circuited. "You... you're..."
"Yes?" Yue Qingyuan's expression shifted slightly, his smile becoming a touch more guarded. "Is something wrong, honored customer?"
"No, no, nothing's wrong!" Shang Qinghua squeaked. "I just... I wanted to thank you for the food. It was amazing. Truly amazing. I've never had anything like it."
Yue Qingyuan's smile relaxed. "I'm glad to hear that. We take great pride in our food here."
"And, uh, if you don't mind me asking..." Shang Qinghua's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "How did you come up with the concept of hot pot? It's so unique and innovative! I've never heard of anything like it before!"
A flicker of something...recognition? suspicion? Passed through Yue Qi's eyes before settling into careful neutrality. "It's a long story. The shortened version is Glutinous Spiked Leaf Bug Snakes."
Shang Qinghua blinked. "These... are from slimes?"
"Yes! They lurk in paddy fields, disturbing the rice planters and eating all the hard work they invested in growing their crops. If you slay them, they disperse into crystallized drops that solidify if placed in the sun for a shichen. Then, you grind them up into a powder, heat it with sugar and water, and it forms a dough that's very sticky. And then you cook them for..."
Shang Qinghua might have zoned out a little. How was this the shortened version? But really, Yue Qingyuan seemed a little too excited about his discovery on how to make hot pot work in PIDW. Was there really no other option besides using monsters?
"It's giving Dungeon Meshi," he blurted.
Yue Qingyuan stopped his explanation and stared at the man. This term... It sounded oddly like one of the w things he experienced in his celestial awakening..
"Um? Anime?"
"Because I'm a transmigrator, just like you!" The smaller man hopped in his seat while making animated gestures. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was alone!"
Yue Qingyuan's expression went through a series of rapid changes—surprise, recognition, and the suspicion. Okay so this man must be from the world of his celestial awakening! How bizarre! But Yue Qi still wanted to get more information out of this Omega so stayed quiet and pretended to be a "transmigarator"
"So, you must've been a reader, right? How else would you have ended up here, you know? What's your ID? No wait, where are my manners? I'm Shang Qinghua, but my ID was Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky."
Yue Qingyuan stood very still. His amicable smile froze in place, and his eyes took on the quality of someone who had just realized they had stepped on a particularly unpleasant bug and were now trying to figure out how to deal with the mess.
"So....You wrote this Novel world? " His curled lips twisted into something more threatening.
Shang Qinghua shrunk in his seat, not quite understanding the sudden ire but fully aware that Yue Qingyuan was mad at him. "Y-yeah...? What's your ID?"
His left eye twitched. So this is the man who put his Baobei through so much misery!!
"That's not really important. Is it?"
"Hey bro! What's wrong?"
He wanted to strangle this man right here and now. "Well, aside from Shen Jiu's being brutally tortured to death. I'm quite okay"
"Ah, I'm really sorry about that. Again. But I had to pay rent, you know? It's really a bummer that all the beta reading you did for me didn't matter in the end, but Shen Jiu was still well known."
Shang QinhHua knowing their relationship apologized. If there was one person who loved Shen QingQiu it was Yue QingYuan. In the original drafts he made Yue QingYuan somewhat of a Yandere
"As a perverse man who inappropriately touched disciple,huh? which we both know didn't even happen! My Baobei would never do that!"
Shang Qinghua opened his mouth to respond, when a deep voice came from behind Yue Qingyuan.
"Qi-ge, is something wrong with this customer's drink?" Shen Jiu took a glance at Yue Qingyuan's murderous aura and reconsidered. "Do I need to toss him out?"
"It's okay, Xiao-Jiu. This honored customer is about to leave. I'll take care of it." Yue Qi gave a reassured smile, and his fiancé turned back to helping another customer with great reluctance.
His smile vanished the instant he turned to Shang Qinghua. "Why are you here?" It was a demand, not a question.
"I just had to find out who this brilliant person was to make hot pot in this world. I didn't have any ulterior motives, I swear!"
"Great. Now leave. We're perfectly fine here, where A-Jiu doesn't have to be separated from his Qi-ge."
"Bro don't be like that!" Shang Qinghua cried. "Us transmigrators have to stick together!"
"Absolutely not."
"What?! Why not??"
"I'm happily engaged to my Baobei —a fantasy that I'd never thought would come true—and we own a very successful business. I'd rather not have your presence ruin all my hard-earned work."
"Fine, don't let me stay. But let me ask you this," Shang Qinghua squeaked in fear at Shen Jiu's glare as he passed by and lowered his voice. "How were you able to change PIDW's plot so easily? My System wouldn't even let me pee on my own for a while, and I still had to act as a spy for Mobei-jun. For survival, of course."
"System?" Yue Qingyuan wondered. Isn't it one of those celestial things that controled people in those otherworldly novels?
"Well... I don't have such a thing "
Shang Qinghua nodded repeatedly. "Oh, I see, I see. That makes sense. You don't..." He faltered like his brain was slowly comprehending what he'd just heard. "What do you mean you don't have one?"
"I never had a System"Yue Qingyuan shook his head.
Shang Qinghua stared at him as if he grew a new limb. "How... is that possible? And you've managed to escape your lives as slaves? Both of you?"
Yue Qingyuan glared at the skittish man
"What you expect us to remain in slavery and let others humiliate us? "
"Well, that's not... What I meant.."
He didn't know why he was still talking to the author guy when he could be running his business, so he began to turn around as Shang Qinghua went into a heated conversation with himself.
"Bro! If you won't let us be friends, can I come visit once in a while for some hot pot?"
Yue Qingyuan slowly turned back to see Shang Qinghua wringing his hands nervously.
"I've been missing meals like this from my past life, and it's really great to see someone bring hot pot into this world."
He sighed. "Do whatever you want. Just don't expect us to reinact your sadistic novel! I won't have my Xiao-Jiu go through that again."
He didn't bother to see Shang Qinghua's reaction and went to help another customer instead.
Later on, as they were cleaning up during closing time, Shen Jiu looked at him with an unreadable expression.
Yue Qingyuan stopped sweeping. "Xiao-Jiu?"
"Who was that scrawny-looking man? It looked like you knew each other."
He waved dismissively. "Just someone I ran into while I was at the bookstore. We had similar book interests, is all."
"Why did it look like you were ready to strangle him?"
It took a lot of restraint not to. "We have different opinions on how the villain in our favorite book was written."
Shen Jiu huffed a derisive laugh. "Then Qi-ge's opinion must be the correct choice."
Yue Qingyuan chuckled humorously. "Xiao-Jiu is never mistaken."
"That villain must be important to you." Shen Jiu looked away. "I've never seen you look so hostile to anyone."
"He's very important to me."
He didn't have to see Shen Jiu's face to know he was pouting. "Oh, I see. My husband-to-be holds a fictional man in such high regards. Don't let me get in the way of your wholehearted affection."
"You'll always be the first person who holds all of my affection, Xiao-Jiu," he reassured with a warm chuckle. "Besides, the villain reminds me of you."
Shen Jiu whipped his head back with wide eyes. A startled blush dusted the tips of his ears. "M-me?"
Yue Qingyuan hummed serenely. "Every time I think about all the hardships the villain has, I think about how I could make your life better. I think about earning more money to feed and clothe you. About providing more things for you to live comfortably without worrying about how much food we have left. About how I could be the best husband for you."
Shen Jiu's blush began to spread to his cheeks. But then he huffed in his usual act of pretending to look annoyed. "Foolish Qi-ge. As long as you're beside me, I'll always be happy."
Yue Qingyuan's eyes widened in surprise, an indescribable warmth blossomed in his heart like an orchard in full bloom. His dearest person always had the most tender words to say, and it happily shocked him every time. Yes, Qi-ge and Xiao-Jiu would always have each other. He'd made sure of that when he transmigrated many years ago, and he would make sure of that now.
"Of course, Xiao-Jiu."