The Lick God: Fu Nantian

Several days passed in the blink of an eye.

Yi Feng had grown accustomed to life in the village and, as usual, rose early in the morning.

He planned to learn the old man’s flashy techniques, so that in the future, his cooking could be both visually dazzling and delicious—especially with his god-tier culinary skills.

But when he stepped into the kitchen, there was no sign of the old man.

Had the old man’s routine been disrupted?

Just as Yi Feng was puzzling over this, a familiar humming tune drifted from the main house.

"Such a splendid spring day, flowers and butterflies vie in beauty..."

The melody carried a lighthearted joy.

Following the sound, Yi Feng found the old man looking utterly revitalized.

Gone were his usual plain clothes, replaced by flowing white robes with wide sleeves, as pristine as snow, draped with a sheer blue outer garment.

As the saying goes: Buddhas rely on golden adornment, men rely on fine attire.

Truer words were never spoken. With just a change of clothes, the once-sleazy old man now carried himself with an air of dignity, even handsomeness.

Standing before a large bronze mirror, the old man carefully trimmed his beard.

The small razor moved deftly, shaping his goatee into something refined—adding just the right touch of maturity and ruggedness without appearing unkempt.

A stray lock of hair swept past his brow, perfectly accentuating his natural charm.

Paired with a roguish grin and a devilishly arched smirk, he looked like a dashing, well-seasoned treasure of an elder.

His demeanor and appearance could only be described as a handsome old man.

No doubt, in his youth, he must have been the heartthrob of every village for miles.

Even in Yi Feng’s past life, this old man would have been the star of any square dance gathering—winning over countless aunties with a single smirk, instantly becoming the center of attention.

Any other grandpa would see him as a formidable rival!

Yet, even now, the old man wasn’t done.

Admiring his reflection, he turned at every angle, giving only a faint, self-satisfied smile.

Then, as if retrieving a priceless artifact, he pulled out a small wooden box, blew off a thick layer of dust, and carefully opened it.

Inside were wood shavings, which he meticulously arranged in an incense burner before lighting them.

A soothing, elegant fragrance filled the air, refreshing the senses.

Only then did Fu Nantian nod in approval, finally noticing Yi Feng at the door.

“Well, boy, what do you think of this old man’s new look?”

Yi Feng gave a thumbs-up, his curiosity piqued.

“Old man, you’re looking pretty sharp. Got a banquet to attend or something?”

Fu Nantian shot him a smug sidelong glance, barely suppressing a grin.

Ahem. “This old man has important matters today. You’re on your own. The village has plenty of scenic spots—West Lake is great for fishing and boating, while East Cloud Peak’s pine forest is perfect for sightseeing or hunting.”

“In short, I’ll have no time for you today. Go enjoy yourself outside, and don’t you dare disturb my affairs!”

His tone was unusually stern, and Yi Feng played along with a nod.

“Got it!”

Yet the moment he agreed, he was promptly ushered out of the courtyard. Before leaving, the old man enthusiastically pointed out more attractions and sternly warned him not to return before sunset.

Dazed, Yi Feng wandered toward the village outskirts, but the more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

Lately, the old man had been acting secretive, and today he was dressed like a groom on his wedding day—even breaking out his finest robes. What in the world was going on?

Driven by burning curiosity, Yi Feng smirked and turned back.

When he reached the familiar courtyard, just as he was about to push open the tightly shut gate...

A woman’s voice rang out from inside.

“What is it?”

The voice sounded rather cold, as if from an old foe.

"Hehe... Isn't it just that the Violetgold Roses are blooming? I specially invited you here to admire them."

Fu Nantian rubbed his hands together as he spoke, his voice filled with nervousness and a hint of awkwardness, sounding just like a bashful young lad—utterly inexperienced. It was a tone that didn’t match his elderly appearance at all.

What in the world is going on...

Yi Feng nearly stumbled at the words!

Completely baffled, Yi Feng could only peek through the door crack to see what was happening.

In the courtyard.

A beautiful woman sat at the table, clearly no longer young but exceptionally well-preserved, her face showing no signs of age—only the grace of maturity.

Her curves, accentuated by a plain but elegant pale-yellow dress, exuded an intoxicating charm, like aged wine.

The old man stood beside her, fawning with a smile.

His demeanor and movements were stiff with unease, making it unclear who was the host and who the guest. He pointed at the roses in the courtyard, his eyes flickering with nervous anticipation.

"Ting'er, these are your favorite Violetgold Roses..."

That intimate address nearly made Yi Feng spit out his drink!

He had thought something serious was happening, but it turned out to be an old flame visiting...

Yi Feng didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and he found himself stuck in an awkward position.

He knew eavesdropping was wrong, but since things had come to this, he could only endure the sickeningly sweet scene and silently cheer the old man on.

Under his expectant gaze.

The noblewoman cast a fleeting glance at the garden.

Her eyes filled with disdain before she averted her gaze.

Holding an embroidered handkerchief to her nose and mouth, she wrinkled her delicate brows in complaint.

"The scent of these roses is far too pungent—utterly vulgar. I’ve long grown tired of such shallow things. The Nine-Revolutions Blood Peony is far more refined."

Fu Nantian froze, the light in his eyes dimming.

But in the next instant, he plastered on another smile and nodded eagerly in agreement!

"Yes, yes! You’re absolutely right—these roses are far too crude. From now on, only Nine-Revolutions Blood Peonies will be planted here!"

No sooner had he spoken than Fu Nantian swiftly uprooted the once-treasured roses, decisive as if discarding filth.

Covered in dust, his once-elegant robes now soiled, he showed not a trace of displeasure—a stark contrast to his usual stingy nature.

Is this...

the same old man who would fight tooth and nail to protect his flowers?

Yi Feng was dumbstruck, at a complete loss for words.

In just a few breaths.

The garden was reduced to bare earth, and the old man personally brought out a covered teacup from inside.

"Ting'er, this is freshly picked Cloudpeak Mist Tea."

After placing the tea on the stone table, Fu Nantian squeezed out an expectant smile.

The beautiful woman finally took a small sip.

Watching her elegant tea-drinking in silence, Fu Nantian’s smile bloomed cautiously, as if he derived more joy from her enjoyment than from tasting the thousand-year celestial tea himself—an indescribable satisfaction.

But the moment didn’t last.

After just one sip, the woman set down the cup indifferently.

"You invited me here just to drink tea?"

Her tone wasn’t just cold—her words were outright rude.

When a host invites a guest and personally serves tea, common courtesy demands gratitude regardless of the tea’s quality. Yet this woman had the audacity to respond with nothing but scorn.

It almost sounded as if the old man had done something wrong!

Yi Feng felt his blood pressure rise, his frustration mounting on Fu Nantian’s behalf.

But when he shifted his gaze.

Fu Nantian showed no anger—not even a trace of resentment. Instead, he smiled apologetically and quickly pulled out an ornate box from his sleeve!

"Of course not!"

"Ting'er, this is a Ten-Thousand Spirit Pearl I obtained from a secret realm. Grind it into powder and apply it to your face—it has miraculous beautifying effects."

The Spirit Pearl was an exceedingly rare treasure, formed under extremely stringent conditions. Only a divine clam with a special bloodline, after absorbing the essence of all living things, could possibly produce one. It contained boundless natural energy, offering immense benefits to cultivation.

Such a supreme-grade divine pearl would be regarded as a priceless treasure even by Sages.

Had there been any outsiders present, hearing that such a treasure was to be ground into powder for a facial treatment, they would have been furious, cursing it as a wasteful desecration.

Yet Fu Nantian didn’t seem the least bit distressed—his eyes were fixed solely on the beauty before him.

The woman, however, was even more outrageous. She cast a casual glance at the pearl, her brows furrowing tighter, her expression growing colder.

"Just an eight-thousand-year-old Spirit Pearl?"

“After so long apart, this is all you bring to appease me? The other day, when I happened to run into someone, they casually gifted me a ten-thousand-year Spirit Pearl.”

Her cold, disdainful remark dripped with contempt.

Yet her hand unhesitatingly took the brocade box and tucked it into her flowing, cloud-patterned sleeve.

Seeing that she had finally accepted the gift, Fu Nantian hurriedly offered an apologetic smile.

"Yes, yes…"

"This time—this time was a bit rushed. I haven’t had any good opportunities lately. Next time, I’ll definitely bring you something truly rare!"

Perhaps his words had some effect, as the woman finally forced a faint smile.

Their conversation flowed naturally, their exchanges practiced, as if both were long accustomed to this dynamic.

Watching this unfold, Yi Feng was utterly dumbfounded, his anger long since drained.

He truly hadn’t expected to witness the old man in such a pitiful state—this was the very definition of a "simp." He couldn’t help but feel indignant on Fu Nantian’s behalf.

Just as he was silently cursing the situation, the woman suddenly seemed to stir up trouble again, her smile vanishing in an instant.

In a flash, her expression shifted to one of distress, her willow-leaf brows knitting together—her face changing as swiftly as flipping a page.

"You’re so thoughtful."

"I’ve heard that when a Spirit Pearl reaches the twenty-thousand-year mark, its effects become especially remarkable…"

"Alas, how could I dare hope for such a twenty-thousand-year treasure? Just the chance to see one would bring me such joy…"

As she spoke, her sorrowful, longing gaze drifted toward him.

That single glance was enough to send Fu Nantian into a frenzy, as if injected with adrenaline. He immediately thumped his chest in eager agreement.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

"Anything Ting'er wants, she shall have!"

The woman smiled faintly, then rose and vanished into the void with a ripple.

Though her figure had disappeared, a faint fragrance lingered in the air, leaving Fu Nantian utterly entranced. He sat there in a daze, a foolish grin plastered on his face.

Clutching a still-warm cup of tea, his expression softened with contentment.

Witnessing that infatuated, intoxicated look, Yi Feng was completely speechless.

Again and again, he had felt outraged on the old man’s behalf, only to see him reveling in the situation. This wasn’t just simping—this was the pinnacle of simpery!

As an upright young man with strong moral principles, Yi Feng could no longer hold back.

BANG!

He shoved the door open and stormed in, intent on setting the old man straight.

"Old man, didn’t you claim to be some mighty Sage? Why are you degrading yourself like this?"

Startled by Yi Feng’s sudden intrusion, Fu Nantian scrambled to his feet in panic, as if some shameful secret had been exposed.

But once he processed the words, the old man’s gaze steadied, unflinching. He sat back down, as immovable as a mountain.

"Kid, you’re still young. You don’t understand love."

Yi Feng stared blankly, then slumped into a seat with a sigh.

"Love?"

"What kind of bullshit love is this? You’re just a one-sided simp!"

Fu Nantian stiffened at the accusation, tilting his head in confusion.

"What is a 'simp'? It doesn’t sound like a compliment."