Chapter 17: A Subtle Admiration

“You’ve even mentioned the Eastern Divine Continent, and you’re still claiming you’re not crazy?”
“That’s a place out of a myth—how do you expect to find the Eastern Divine Continent in the real world?”
“And America? Even if you went to Antarctica, you wouldn’t find the place you’re looking for!”
After hearing Fatty Wang’s heartbroken words, for a fleeting moment, Chang Yu started to question his own sanity.

From the beginning, he’d found the name Eastern Divine Continent strangely familiar, as if he’d heard it somewhere before, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t recall.
Now that Fatty Wang had brought up Journey to the West, it suddenly struck him where the name came from.
Wasn’t it a place invented by the famous writer Wu Cheng’en?
In his work Journey to the West, there are four great continents:
The Eastern Divine Continent, the Southern Jambu Continent, the Northern Kuru Continent, and the Western Ox-Headed Continent.
The Eastern Divine Continent, of course, is one of those four, and is the birthplace of the Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong.
It was there that Sun Wukong was born from a magical stone, imbued with the essence of heaven and earth.
Back in the orphanage, little Chang Yu had watched that classic TV series, Journey to the West, countless times with the other kids, always on repeat on the central channel.
Even now, thinking about it, the catchy theme song seems to echo in his ears.
That tune… dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun, biubiu~—impossibly catchy.

But no matter how vivid and lifelike Wu Cheng’en’s masterpiece might seem, Chang Yu knew in his bones:
Journey to the West was a work of fiction, and the Eastern Divine Continent was never meant to exist in the real world.
“Could I really be crazy,” Chang Yu wondered, falling into self-doubt, “just as Brother Wang and his psychiatrist friend say? Otherwise, why would a place from a myth come out of Master Hao’er’s mouth?”
“No, no, that can’t be!” He quickly rejected the thought. “Even if my master and the Valley of Fuling were figments of my imagination, my cultivation can’t be faked!”
“I really did receive my master’s endowment, and overnight gained supernatural powers—that’s a fact!”
“Then why did my master insist he was living in the Eastern Divine Continent? Was he playing an elaborate trick on me, or is it just a coincidence of names?”
His mind was a tangled mess, hopelessly muddled, and he couldn’t make sense of anything.
Whether Master Hao’er really was hidden away in the Eastern Divine Continent, or whether he’d just made up a clumsy name to deceive him, Chang Yu had no way to find him and ask in person.
Now, all he could do was wait quietly until the next time he dreamed, hoping for another chance to question Master Hao’er.
There was no point agonizing over it before he could ask Hao’er himself; worrying would only weigh him down.

“Stop overthinking,” Fatty Wang said, clapping Chang Yu on the shoulder, his tone earnest.
“I know you must be feeling pretty down right now. I mean, who wouldn’t be upset after learning they’ve got a problem?”
“But don’t worry—what are friends for? Your troubles are mine, your illness is mine. I’m not about to abandon you.”
“I’ll talk to my specialist friend, see if there’s anything we can do to help you get back to normal.”
“Come, have a smoke, and listen to your brother Wang: there’s no hurdle in life you can’t cross. Try to keep your chin up.”

Fatty Wang took an expensive cigarette from his battered little tin box and handed it to Chang Yu, even lighting it for him with great care.

For some reason, Fatty Wang never liked using the original cigarette box for his “China” brand smokes, always preferring that unremarkable, dusty old tin.
It was a habit of discretion—no one, not even Chang Yu, ever knew what brand he smoked.
If Wang hadn’t revealed it himself, Chang Yu would never have guessed that such pricey cigarettes were hidden in that humble tin.
Fatty Wang wasn’t the type to flaunt his wealth. Even if he smoked “China” every day, he never showed off.
To him, true wealth meant living modestly, keeping a low profile.
Chang Yu took a deep drag, letting the gentle smoke fill his lungs, his face half-hidden in the swirling haze.
Perhaps only “China” could be worthy of Brother Wang’s noble status, he thought admiringly.
For someone as well-off as Wang, life had never been a struggle for food or shelter; working was just a way to pass the time.
That’s why, despite being an elite graduate of a top university, Fatty Wang was perfectly content working as a security guard in front of a small company.
No matter what salary he was offered, he didn’t care—whether it was a lot or a little, it was pocket change to him.
Now that he thought about it, Chang Yu couldn’t help but laugh at himself for once believing he and Fatty Wang, owner of over two hundred properties, belonged to the same class.
What more could he say? Wasn’t the city’s biggest landlord right there beside him, guarding the company gate?
If even the rich are working this hard, shouldn’t those with less try harder too?

“Don’t let the difference in our backgrounds come between us,” Wang said.
He was a man who’d dealt with countless tenants, a master at reading people, and he’d spotted the trouble in Chang Yu’s eyes at a glance.
“I’m not one of those snobs who looks down on people. Our friendship shouldn’t change because of money or status.”
“You’re a good kid, kind-hearted—not like those hypocrites who seem respectable but are rotten inside. I really want to be friends with you.”
“And don’t envy me. We can’t choose where we’re born, but having a noble heart is more important than a noble birth.”
“I’ve seen plenty of rich scoundrels in my day. Those brats swaggering around, using their family’s money and influence to bully others—sooner or later, they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

Chang Yu was silent for a long time before finally saying, “Brother Wang, if everyone understood life as clearly as you, it would be a life well lived.”
...
Night had fallen. At last, the day’s work was over, and Chang Yu dragged his exhausted body home.

Home means the same thing to everyone.
It’s a warm harbor, a refuge for the soul. No matter how battered or wronged we feel outside, home is where we find those lingering threads of comfort.
That’s why home matters so much—it’s a person’s foothold in the city.
Without it, we become rootless, drifting like duckweed, with nowhere to belong.
But for Chang Yu, there was no true home.
He had a place to stay in the city, yes, but it was only rented—a temporary stop, not a real home.
He wasn’t the owner, only a guest.
Here, he had no real say. If he left, someone else would take his place.
At a single word from his landlady, Auntie Zhang, he’d be out on the street.

And wasn’t that exactly the situation he faced now?
With just one day left before rent was due, he couldn’t help but feel anxious.
But so many things in life can’t be fixed just by worrying.
He’d tried to convince Zhao Dasheng to hire him as a bodyguard, but no matter how he explained, the boss just didn’t believe in his abilities and refused to take him on.
It had even led to some unpleasantness between them.
Chang Yu had also tried seeking help from his own master.
His master had been generous, giving him two bags of spirit stones, but Chang Yu realized that such things couldn’t be spent as money in the mundane world.
Going back to Zhao Dasheng was out of the question, and his master’s help was like distant water that couldn’t quench his immediate thirst—he had reached a dead end.

“What should I do?” Chang Yu sat by the window, staring into the night, his mind restless.
Outside, cars sped down the road, their headlights flaring with a dazzling golden glow.
A few nearby high-rises sparkled with scattered lights—red, green, blue, purple.
Each window, with its different curtains and lights, cast its own unique color.
From a distance, the whole scene looked like a vibrant painter’s palette—a blend of reality and dream.
This was the city at night, the most authentic side of urban life.
Within those towering buildings lived countless small families—insignificant, ordinary, easily overlooked.
But together, they built the city, each quietly living their own stories, with their own joys and sorrows, laughter and tears.
Ever since he’d come to this metropolis, Chang Yu had liked standing at the window, gazing out over the city, sometimes for hours.
Whenever he was troubled or blue, he’d turn off all the lights, let darkness fill the narrow room, and look out at the world beyond the glass.
Everything outside seemed a luxury to him—homes, cars, families, riches. All the things he longed for were out of reach.
Watching the busy silhouettes behind those distant windows, he felt a pang of envy.
When would he, too, have a place of his own in this city?
“If I could own an apartment here, would I finally be free from a landlord’s whims? Wouldn’t have to hand over my hard-earned money to a stranger?” he wondered.
“If I could have my own home, I’d be the happiest person in the world. Even in this cold, indifferent city, I wouldn’t feel empty or lonely anymore—because my heart would finally have roots.”
No more hopping from rental to rental, no more watching the landlord’s moods, no more drifting through life. How wonderful would that be?
If he could go a little further, maybe he’d have a loving family, a wife and child of his own, a warm home, hot meals waiting for him every night, a light left on late just for him, a door left open for him to return to.
How good that life would be.
He truly envied them, Chang Yu thought.
But… could such a life ever be his?