Chapter 170 Cultural Infiltration

The old Daoist still refused Ottosen's help,

because he found Ottosen's offer rather baffling.

This was Chinese territory. When Chinese people lost something on their own turf, how could their own police not do their best to find it?

Did he need this foreigner to meddle?

Was he implying that if a foreigner lost something, the police would be more attentive, but not if it was a local?

What kind of logic was that!

Foreigners would never give up on subjugating us; the old Daoist would never fall for it!

The old Daoist gave Ottosen a dismissive glare, as if he was talking nonsense, and went to the police station to report the loss himself.

Ottosen shrugged awkwardly. Seeing Zhou Ze looking at him, he said helplessly,

"I just wanted to help."

"Thank you,"

Zhou Ze replied.

"You're the owner of this bookstore, right?"

Ottosen sat down next to Zhou Ze.

"Yes."

"I've always dreamed of opening my own bookstore, and it has to be like yours, in a bustling area. This kind of life is truly wonderful."

"You can try it."

If you're not afraid of losing money.

Seeing Zhou Ze's cold attitude, Ottosen immediately said,

"I really like Chinese culture."

"That's like the British talking about the weather."

"What do you mean?"

"It's all nonsense."

"I really like Chinese culture; I'm different from others." Ottosen emphasized, as he stood up and grabbed a Chinese textbook from the nearby students' table, flipped through it, and read to Zhou Ze:

"If a scholar is enraged, he will fall two corpses, spill blood five steps, and the world will wear mourning."

Ottosen recited clearly, and said to Zhou Ze,

"I can understand the meaning here, and I admire Tang Ju's character of not fearing the powerful, very much like our ancestors who braved the storms at sea."

Icelanders all believe themselves to be descendants of Vikings, the so-called Viking pirates.

What Ottosen had just recited was an excerpt from "Tang Ju Does Not Disgrace His Mission."

This article is included in textbooks in many places, and many people were required to memorize it by their teachers when they were in school.

It's roughly about the King of Qin showing off to Tang Ju,

and Tang Ju drawing a sword and telling the King of Qin that if he kept pushing, he would kill him,

so the King of Qin immediately surrendered and shouted:

"So fragrant." (a meme meaning 'I was wrong').

Zhou Ze lit a cigarette,

exhaled a smoke ring,

and didn't bother to pay him any attention.

"Sir, do you still think I don't understand Chinese traditional culture?"

Zhou Ze shook his head and said,

"If you really understood it, you would know that this story is fake."

"Fake? It comes from the book *Zhan Guo Ce* (Intrigues of the Warring States)."

"It is indeed fake. Use your clever brain to think about it.

When the King of Qin summoned Tang Ju, how could Tang Ju walk into the palace hall carrying a long sword?

Moreover, the King of Qin had already learned a lesson from Jing Ke's assassination attempt. Besides, Tang Ju was already over ninety years old at the time."

"............" Ottosen.

Zhou Ze flicked his cigarette ash.

Honestly,

when he was in school, he also felt uncomfortable when memorizing this classical Chinese text, because he knew it was fake, but he still had to memorize it, and he would lose points if he got it wrong on the exam.

Ottosen returned the book,

sat back in his original position,

and pondered while putting dried tea into his mouth.

In the afternoon, after the students left, Ottosen, under Zhou Ze's gaze, paid Yingying and left.

"Are foreigners all so rich? The 888 yuan package actually sold."

Bai Yingying was a little incredulous.

Dried tea, rice cakes, and yellow wine were not rare in her time, let alone now.

"Anything becomes valuable when you add ethnic characteristics; it's called cultural value."

Zhou Ze remembered that when he was in college in his previous life, he had a roommate from Sichuan, who told everyone as a joke that his village had custom-made a batch of ethnic costumes that he had never seen before to develop tourism. When tourists came, his mother and aunts would greet them:

"Tourists are here, let's put on our clothes and go cheat them out of their money!"

Then everyone would put on those custom-made clothes and go to the village entrance to perform and attract tourists.

He got up, stretched, and it was almost dusk. The heat outside had also decreased a bit, so Boss Zhou simply walked out of the store and squatted on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

The old Daoist ran back excitedly, holding his phone high in his hand.

"Found it?" Zhou Ze asked.

"Yes, I found it. The police comrades retrieved the surveillance footage, helped this poor Daoist identify the suspect, and then most of the police station went out to help this poor Daoist find it. After working hard for most of the day, they finally caught the thief and helped this poor Daoist recover my phone. The police comrades are still concerned about the people and wholeheartedly serve the people!"

"Okay," Zhou Ze nodded.

"This poor Daoist is going to send a banner over there tomorrow." The old Daoist was very excited.

"Sure."

"Boss, do you want some *bingfen* (icy jelly)?"

The old Daoist pointed to a small stall across the street and asked.

Zhou Ze hadn't noticed it before. There was actually a small stall across the street. Logically speaking, stalls were not allowed in this area, so he guessed that the vendor was using guerrilla tactics.

The stall sold *bingfen*, a Sichuan delicacy that was a good way to cool off in the summer.

"Bring me one, without any seasoning."

As he spoke, Zhou Ze took out his River of Forgetfulness oral solution and took a sip.

"Okay!"

The old Daoist went to buy two servings of *bingfen* and squatted on the curb with his boss to eat.

Zhou Ze's serving was sour plum juice *bingfen*, which was very refreshing, while the old Daoist's serving had a lot of seasonings such as brown sugar and peanuts, which looked particularly rich.

As they were eating,

a black van drove up and stopped in front of Zhou Ze and the old Daoist. One side was written with the words "Law Enforcement," and the other side, unsurprisingly, should be the words "City Management."

The car stopped,

and four or five city management officers got out.

Two of them were familiar faces. When Zhou Ze had asked the old Daoist to sweep the streets to contribute to the creation of a sanitary city, those two city management officers had sent the old Daoist back.

The two of them also saw the two people squatting here eating *bingfen*.

One of them raised his hand to greet them:

"Yo, father and son are eating!"

"Pfft!"

The old Daoist was so frightened that he sprayed the *bingfen* directly out of his mouth,

and because he sprayed it out so quickly,

it even shot out of his nose,

with a lot of peanut crumbs stuck to it.

Zhou Ze didn't say anything and continued to eat with a disposable spoon.

The city management officers ran over to talk to the stall owner.

The stall owner was an old lady with completely white hair.

As they talked,

the old lady continued to make *bingfen*.

The city management officers each held several boxes, gave the money, and when the old lady's *bingfen* was sold out, she obediently pushed her stall away and repeatedly promised that she would not set up a stall here again tomorrow.

The other officers took the *bingfen* and drove back, probably to distribute it to their colleagues in the unit.

The young city management officer who had greeted the old Daoist earlier walked over with a serving of *bingfen* and squatted down on the curb to eat with them.

After he squatted down,

the old Daoist felt uneasy, fearing that this straightforward young man would say something shocking again and kill him.

"This *bingfen*, I really can't get used to it,"

the young city management officer said helplessly after taking a few bites.

If they hadn't wanted the old lady to close her stall and leave early, they wouldn't have bought the rest of it. It wasn't expensive, but he really couldn't get used to it.

*Bingfen* is more popular in Sichuan, but it doesn't really suit the taste of the people of Tongcheng, especially since it is usually topped with a lot of seasonings. Zhou Ze's refreshing serving was much better.

"It's still not as good as our *liangfen* (mung bean jelly) here," said the young city management officer.

Zhou Ze nodded,

agreeing with him.

When he was working in the hospital in his previous life, he had been assigned to a medical team to support Sichuan for a month, and he had suffered because he couldn't get used to the food there.

Zhou Ze still clearly remembered that a young doctor from the same department as him had specially bought a large piece of *liangfen* from a stall below and called Zhou Ze to eat it with him.

At first, Zhou Ze refused, because he really couldn't enjoy the taste of the local *liangfen*, which was cut into strips, mixed with chili, vinegar, oil, and minced garlic.

However, the young doctor just asked the boss for a few cloves of garlic and a little soy sauce.

The garlic was crushed and mixed with soy sauce, and the *liangfen* was cut into large squares like mahjong tiles. Zhou Ze and him ate and drank most of the night with this dish and some drinks.

Zhou Ze would never forget that taste.

Unfortunately, the doctor who had eaten *liangfen* with him later suffered from medical exposure. When he was treating a patient, the other party concealed the fact that he was sick, causing him to be infected as well.

And he had already sent out wedding invitations at that time.

He didn't make it through. You could say he was weak, or you could say he wasn't strong enough. In the end, he chose to jump from a tall building and end his own life.

Sigh.

"Boss, Boss?"

While Zhou Ze was squatting there lost in thought, the old Daoist reached out and gently poked Zhou Ze's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Zhou Ze came back to his senses.

"Uh, you didn't hear clearly just now, this little brother said he wants to invite me to his house to perform a ritual."

Zhou Ze looked at the young city management officer in surprise.

"It was my mother who asked me to. Not me. I don't believe in this, but my mother is a rural person, and she wants to ask for peace of mind. A few days later is the tenth anniversary of my father's death."

"Oh."

Zhou Ze looked at the old Daoist again,

"Just go if you want."

"No, Boss, I want you and me to go together."

"Like father, like son, on the battlefield,"

the young city management officer said with a smile.

"Can you stop talking, you son of a b*tch!"

The old Daoist stood up and shouted at the young city management officer.

Mmp,

You want to go to the underworld to see your dad, but I don't want to go!

The young city management officer was confused.

At this moment,

the old Daoist reached out behind his back and signaled Zhou Ze to look at the back of the young city management officer.

Zhou Ze turned his head to look,

and found that the old Daoist had already stuck a talisman on the back of the young city management officer without him knowing when.

This guy now has the habit of sticking talismans everywhere he goes,

ancestral talismans are like dog-skin plasters on street utility poles.

Last time it was sticking them on the toilet in the bathroom,

this time he just sticks them on strangers on the street.

However,

Zhou Ze still saw what the old Daoist wanted him to see,

at the spot where the talisman was stuck on the back of this young man,

a black palm print appeared...