Chapter 80

Although Song Jincheng was a poor student, he had a kind heart. Despite constantly declaring he would wait for Song Qingshi’s father to pay the bill and bail him out, he still used over twenty Spirit Stones to cover Song Qingshi’s lodging, bought good medicinal herbs and new clothes, helping his injuries gradually improve.

During his recovery, Song Qingshi sorted out his memories while organizing his Mustard Seed Bag. He tried to align the information in his mind with what Song Jincheng had provided, using rational analysis to find clues about his identity after transmigration.

First, he ruled out the possibility of being a powerful expert.

He was just a novice at the Foundation Establishment stage, clearly unrelated to any great figures. Moreover, the memory fragments of such experts were extremely scarce, lacking even character descriptions—likely errors caused by the system explosion, like a few green beans accidentally mixed into a large bucket of soybeans, not worth dwelling on.

Next, he confirmed his identity as Song Qingshi, the modern medical student.

This part of his memory was very complete. Aside from the day he blacked out at age eight after eating liquor-filled chocolates, he remembered everything—his family, professors, online friends, books, and various modern medical knowledge and experiments. This identity seemed to have truly existed.

Lastly, he hesitated over the identity of Song Qingshi, the immortal realm physician.

He could clearly recall memories of leaving the deep mountains alone, wandering around, and obtaining the Medicine King's inheritance. However, some details differed. For instance, he could now perfectly control the Nether Flame and Red Lotus Mystic Fire within his body using the Cold Jade Technique at the Foundation Establishment stage—something his past self couldn’t do. He also remembered many pillsmithing methods and medical skills not found in the Medicine King’s inheritance, as well as numerous books he had read… It felt like his professional knowledge was intact, and his original cultivation might have been higher. He had simply forgotten certain people and events for a period.

Putting it all together:

Song Qingshi concluded that he had transmigrated from the medical student Song Qingshi into the body of the immortal realm pharmacist Song Qingshi. Due to severe injuries, his cultivation had regressed, causing partial memory loss—though it was unclear whether this amnesia was temporary or permanent.

Since the personalities, thought patterns, and habits of the medical student Song Qingshi and the immortal realm pharmacist Song Qingshi were extremely similar, their souls fit together like the same person. Thus, his psychological adaptation was smooth, and he wasn’t worried about identity issues. However…

He said sadly, “I feel like I don’t have a father.”

Song Jincheng nearly dropped his melon in shock: “I’ve spent all my savings on you, and now you’re telling me this?!”

“I’m an orphan with no family,” Song Qingshi said after digesting the memories of both bodies. “I’m a loner and don’t seem to have friends either.” Seeing Song Jincheng’s tearful expression, he quickly reassured him, “Don’t worry. Even though I don’t think I’m good at making money, someone must have given me spending money! Maybe a foster father? Let me think harder—I might remember later.”

He emptied his Mustard Seed Bag and shook it out. Inside were all sorts of odd items: a wooden box containing a dead Illusion Gu, a storybook titled *Three Brothers Hunting Tigers*, a colorful bird-shaped clay figurine, a few self-made talismans, some common medicinal herbs, and a stack of small notebooks filled with quickly jotted experimental notes.

On the wooden box of the Illusion Gu was a small note he had written himself: “Do not peek.”

After reading the note, he dutifully returned the box and handed the talismans and herbs to Song Jincheng: “I remember these can be sold for some money.”

Song Jincheng grew even more sorrowful: “The herbs are all cultivated, and the talismans are factory-made. They’re probably worth… two Spirit Stones.”

Song Qingshi was baffled: “Are talismans really that cheap?”

“You really are from the countryside, even less educated than me,” Song Jincheng sighed. “Over a thousand years ago, Madam Nian developed a method for mass-producing talismans. Common ones like these became household staples. Judging by these talismans, they seem hand-drawn—did you make them yourself?”

Song Qingshi nodded, giving up on his plan to sell talismans for money. He suggested again, “After I recover, I’ll brew pills to sell. My alchemy skills are excellent—everyone fights over the medicines I make. We’ll earn the money back quickly.”

“You’re just a Foundation Establishment Cultivator, yet you talk so big,” Song Jincheng said, eyeing his youthful face with a world-weary tone. “Can you refine Heaven and Earth Black Gold Pills? Mysterious Origin Righteous Energy Pills? Xue Family Calming Pills? Or Sister Li’s Spirit Herb Paste?”

These were the most popular and best-selling pills on the market—simple materials, easy to refine.

When his senior brothers and sisters from the Medicine King Valley were strapped for cash, they’d refine some to sell for extra Spirit Stones.

Hearing these impressive pill names he’d never encountered before, Song Qingshi felt his confidence take a serious blow…

“Quit fronting,” Song Jincheng said, softening at his near-tearful expression. “Our Medicine King Valley has rules about healing the world, and you’re my first patient… Whatever, you needed the medicine—just owe me for now. Pay me back slowly when you have money. My family isn’t poor; my parents will give me more. I just didn’t dare ask this time because my grades were so bad…”

Moved, Song Qingshi said, “You’re so kind. I’ll study with you in the future.”

He resolved to treat this underachiever better—twenty practice exams a day, turning him into a top student to repay this kindness.

Song Jincheng found his innocence amusing and casually replied, “Sure, sure. Get into the Medicine King Valley first.”

As they continued sorting through the junk, Song Jincheng found a strange notebook with careful penmanship. Flipping through a few pages, it seemed to record someone’s preferences—favorite foods, colors, activities, and even a birthday… He handed it over, smirking. “Is this someone you have a crush on?”

Song Qingshi took the notebook, glanced at it, and froze.

The red figure appeared in his mind’s eye again, filling him with intense longing. It felt like a piece of his heart had been torn out—more painful than an alchemy explosion, more agonizing than all his lab mice dying, impossible to mend…

Tears welled up uncontrollably.

Song Jincheng panicked, realizing he’d touched a nerve: “Are you okay?”

Song Qingshi pulled himself together, wiping away tears. “It’s someone I liked… but I can’t remember.”

Song Jincheng asked, “Is there a name in the notebook?”

Song Qingshi shook his head. “No names, just descriptions, but…”

“You’re too close to see clearly. Let me analyze it as an outsider.” Always helpful, Song Jincheng took the notebook back and flipped through it. “Look here—it says this person is skilled at cooking, makes delicious meals, even tastier sweets, and the best ice cakes… Do you like sweets?”

Song Qingshi looked at him eagerly. “Yes! I love desserts, especially ice cakes.”

Jealous, Song Jincheng said, “If this person isn’t a chef, they must really like you to make your favorite treats so often.”

The words comforted Song Qingshi, lightening his heart.

Song Jincheng asked again: “Not your mother, right?”

Song Qingshi shook his head. “I have no family in this world.”

“That’s terrible,” Song Jincheng said sympathetically, ruffling his hair before continuing. “The notebook says this person is smart, beautiful, kind, cute, considerate, gentle… likes white and red, has a weak constitution, stomach troubles, enjoys swordplay, medicine-making, reading, studying… Let me think…”

He drifted into thought, his expression gradually twisting.

Song Qingshi waited expectantly.

“How are you this lucky?!” Song Jincheng’s face contorted with jealousy as he envisioned the described person. He grabbed Song Qingshi and shook him. “This is definitely a beautiful, kind girl! Gentle, virtuous, delicate, and she can cook! Heaven! She’s my perfect woman! Tell me—how did you charm such a perfect girl?! Teach me!”

Song Qingshi, rattled by the shaking, asked, “A girl?”

He wasn’t entirely sure about his preferences—he felt attraction could go either way…

Song Jincheng pressed on: “Look, it’s emphasized here that this person is emotionally sensitive and needs care. Doesn’t sound like a rough-and-tumble man, does it?”

Song Qingshi summarized, “So… I liked a sentimental girl?”

“No, a goddess,” Song Jincheng declared. “And look at these messy notes you scribbled in the margins—words like ‘virtuous,’ ‘beautiful,’ ‘charming.’ You wouldn’t use those for a man, right? Plus, you wrote ‘so beautiful’ over and over… Just how beautiful was she?”

Song Qingshi tried recalling the red figure. “Maybe… breathtakingly beautiful?”

“Liar! Someone like that would never fall for you!” Song Jincheng called him shameless but remained envious. He scrutinized Song Qingshi. “You’re decent-looking but scrawny… not the type girls usually go for. How did someone like you get a girlfriend while I’m tall, handsome, and still single?”

After some thought, Song Qingshi said, “I’m more proactive.”

“Proactive?” Song Jincheng didn’t understand.

Song Qingshi lectured matter-of-factly: “When you meet someone you like, confess immediately. Hand over all your assets, give lots of gifts, and obey without question—go east if told, kneel on a washboard if ordered… Your wife is always right, and if she’s not, refer to the previous rule.”

This was what his modern-world father had taught him, endorsed by his mother and sister.

Knowing his emotional intelligence was low, he’d decided to follow these rules if he ever liked someone.

The notebook proved his methods worked.

Song Jincheng hesitated, "What about male pride?"

Song Qingshi asked earnestly, "What's more important - a girlfriend or your pride?"

Song Jincheng patted his shoulder and sighed, "Man, I've realized you're deeper than I thought."

Song Qingshi said seriously, "Though I don’t remember who this girl is, I must find her and bring her back."

"Wait," Song Jincheng suddenly thought of something, "You said you have no family and aren’t good at making money, yet someone gave you a lot of cash..."

Song Qingshi nodded.

Song Jincheng grew even more envious. He muttered, "Could it be... you’re a sugar baby?"

Song Qingshi’s face darkened instantly. He wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Swelling up with anger, he stayed silent for a long time before beginning to suspect there might be some truth to it. If he couldn’t earn money, maybe he really was a useless man living off a woman. The thought saddened him deeply, and he resolved to work harder, get his act together, and make sure the woman he loved never suffered because of him...

Song Jincheng pushed open the window and gazed outside, feeling a melancholy that didn't suit his usual demeanor. He sighed, "Life's so damn unfair."

Outside, the wild shrieking of birds filled the air.

Lately, he felt the birds had gone mad—flying everywhere, screeching endlessly, as if searching for something.

"So damn loud." He irritably shut the window and grumbled, "It’s not even spring—what’s with all this mating frenzy?"

Song Qingshi agreed, "Yeah, pretty noisy."