Chapter 7

Ding ling ling...

The alarm on Xiaoming's phone woke him from his deep sleep. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time on his phone: 5:20 AM.

At this hour, even in summer, the sky outside was still dark. Most people, except for those in special professions, were still fast asleep.

Xiaoming had one of those special jobs that required him to wake up early; he ran a noodle shop.

This noodle shop was inherited from Xiaoming's parents, who had worked hard for half their lives to build a small house and a noodle shop. Now, they had left everything to Xiaoming.

To outsiders, running a noodle shop might seem much harder than a regular job, as it required waking up early and going to bed late, making it far more tiring than working eight hours a day. But there were exceptions, like Xiaoming.

Xiaoming, who had no grand ambitions, had always been content with a peaceful life and a little money to spend. Therefore, he only operated his noodle shop at two specific times: one was during the morning rush hour when many people were heading to work, and the other was in the evening when night shift workers finished their shifts. These two periods were very profitable, generating about 60-70% of his daily income. This allowed Xiaoming to work relatively easily while still ensuring a steady income. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to save much money just from the rent.

After getting up, brushing his teeth, and washing his face, Xiaoming was about to leave when he suddenly remembered that he wasn't the same as before. The events of yesterday were still vivid in his mind, causing him to break out in a cold sweat. He looked down at his unremarkable right hand, feeling a mix of fear and trepidation.

Uh, why isn't it making any sound? It, it's gone?

Or was everything he experienced just a dream?

He pinched the skin on his right hand, which felt rough and strong, just like any other hand, with no abnormalities. Xiaoming was stunned for a moment, unsure of what was happening.

"Hmm..."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Xiaoming scratched his ear, thought for a minute, and finally decided to stick to his usual routine.

As usual, Xiaoming locked the door and walked out of the alley, heading towards a narrow street under the streetlights. On that street, which had a history of thirty years, his noodle shop was located.

The narrow street wasn't just home to his noodle shop. As he walked, he saw many old breakfast shops opening their doors, and even two vendors selling fried dough sticks and soy milk were setting up their tables and chairs.

Xiaoming pulled up the roller shutter and entered his noodle shop. He first took out a broom to sweep the trash off the floor, then quickly started boiling water and kneading the dough.

Kneading the dough was the foundation of making noodles, and it was very important. The quality of the dough depended on the kneading process, which affected the formation of gluten. Only good kneading could ensure the highest survival rate of gluten, resulting in the best quality noodles. The texture of the noodles was incomparable to ordinary flour products, which was the charm of noodles. Although kneading agents had been developed in recent years, Xiaoming's father, who had been in the noodle business for over a decade, relied on his hands-on skills to build a good reputation, which couldn't be replaced by kneading agents.

Xiaoming's skills couldn't match his father's, but he had seen his father knead dough countless times since he was a child, so he could handle the basic techniques. He easily kneaded the dough with his hands.

After kneading the dough, the next step was to let it rest.

Resting the dough meant leaving the kneaded dough to sit for a while, about twenty minutes in the summer. During this time, Xiaoming could take a short break, such as drinking a cup of hot water.

Normally, a cup of hot water could be enjoyed in peace, but if the right hand, which was about to reach for the cup, suddenly turned and grabbed a rolling pin, and then hit the forehead, anyone would be upset.

Fortunately, the hit wasn't too hard, and Xiaoming quickly reacted, sweating profusely. "Sir, sir, the noble officer... uh, you're awake?"

The right hand, which had transformed into a terrifying form, looked around and asked, "Where is this?"

"Uh, this is my noodle shop."

Xiaoming answered respectfully.

"Noodle shop?"

The right hand didn't comment, "Did I tell you to be careful with the thing I gave you?"

"That thing? Yes, no problem, absolutely no problem. I put it in the safest and most reliable place in my house, where no one but me can find it!"

Xiaoming hurriedly replied.

"What are you doing here?"

The right hand seemed to ask casually, but after Xiaoming answered, it didn't pursue the matter further and asked another question.

"Doing, doing what?"

"This, this..."

Xiaoming scratched the back of his head with his left hand. The question was so simple, no, not simple, but rather too trivial. He really didn't know how to answer.

After some thought, Xiaoming cautiously said, "In human terms, I'm here to make money. Making money is mainly about accumulating a form of credit currency, which I can use to exchange for necessary living essentials..."

"Making money... I need money..."

The right hand interrupted Xiaoming before he finished, "A lot of money."

"Need a lot of money? This..."

Xiaoming was a bit confused. Did aliens need money too?

"Yes, a lot of money. As a host, you are almost at the bottom of the human social hierarchy. The resources I want to obtain cannot be acquired in your current state, so I need a lot of money."

Xiaoming felt a bit embarrassed. Was he being looked down upon by an alien?

However, Xiaoming's spirits lifted. The fact that this unknown being had demands was a good sign. It was better than the alien not telling him anything. As the saying goes, where there is a need, there is a weakness. With the alien's demands, he could take advantage of the situation, or rather, flatter, or even gather intelligence.

So, Xiaoming opened his mouth, ready to offer suggestions. He felt like Zhuge Liang had possessed him!

He even touched his chin with his left hand, which had a bit of stubble, and a charming, confident smile appeared on his face. He slowly said, "Sir, I have something to say, but I'm not sure if I should..."

"Ah... damn, wait a minute..."

As soon as he said he had something to say, the right hand slapped him, causing his face to swell.

This, this isn't how it's supposed to be on TV. At this point, it should at least say "please speak" or show respect, right? Why did it hit me? Indeed, the barbarians from beyond Earth are unreasonable.

With a pained expression, Xiaoming quickly said, "Sir, you might not understand the situation on Earth. In fact, you don't need to be so polite. Earthlings are very weak and cowardly. They are greedy for life and shameless. If you show your true strength and dominate, you won't need money. Many people will beg to give you what you want. Then, when you rule the Earth, getting the resources you need will be easy. Of course, if you don't want to deal with these foolish humans, I, though unworthy, am willing to help..."

As soon as he finished speaking, his left cheek was slapped again.

"Idiot!"

"Do you think I can use force to dominate all of humanity in my current state?"

The right hand coldly said this, then slapped Xiaoming again. "If you speak without thinking next time, the punishment will be doubled."

Xiaoming covered his face with his left hand, admitting to himself that being slapped really hurt. At the same time, an unparalleled anger rose in his heart—damn it, I've never been hit by anyone, not even my father, and you, a mere alien, dare to hit me... Ah!

Xiaoming let out another cry of pain. He had forgotten that the right hand could sense his emotions.

Humans are the most adaptable creatures. Xiaoming swallowed his tears and blood, then put on a flattering smile. "Sir, there's no need to be angry. I have a few good suggestions..."

"To make money, there are many methods in the world, but the fastest way to get money quickly is through smuggling, drug trafficking, or robbing banks. Given our current conditions, smuggling and drug trafficking are impractical, so I strongly recommend robbing a bank."

At this point, Xiaoming looked around as if to prevent eavesdropping, then lowered his voice. "Sir, based on my long-term observation, the bank on Zhishui Street is very easy to rob, both in terms of traffic and security. As long as we... hehe!"

Xiaoming hated that bank because a bank employee had once looked down on him. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge.

"Rob a bank? No, we absolutely cannot draw attention to ourselves from human society right now."

The right hand immediately rejected Xiaoming's suggestion.

Xiaoming didn't lose heart and quickly came up with another plan. (I need everyone's recommendations. Please recommend me on Qidian. The author shamelessly asks for votes. Thank you all!)

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