Chapter 4

Another two days passed, and Zhang Chengyuan had largely recovered, no longer needing to stay in the hospital and waste money as per the doctor's advice. This single hospitalization had depleted the Zhang family's savings, not to mention the 20% of medical expenses that DSP Entertainment had covered for him.

However, this does not mean that DSP Entertainment is a charitable organization. Many South Koreans believe that entertainment companies in Korea are the most shameless "vampires" in the world, "diligently" specializing in squeezing the blood and sweat money out of artists. How could they be willing to spend unnecessary money on a stranger like Zhang Chengyuan?

When the news of "DSP vehicle hitting and killing a pedestrian at night" broke, public sentiment surged, and the company's image plummeted. Although the Mapo District Police Department later released the real situation, showing video evidence that DSP was not responsible for the accident, to salvage the company's image, the executives of DSP Entertainment reluctantly paid a portion of Zhang Chengyuan's medical expenses and had the Fin.K.L girl group visit the injured several times. According to Lee Hyori's private remarks, this was the result of Jee Jong-hwa's strong advocacy; otherwise, the penny-pinching board members would never have done so.

Of course, DSP Entertainment's efforts were not in vain. Not only did they perfectly resolve the car accident, but they also salvaged the company's and Fin.K.L's image, making Fin.K.L even more popular and their future prospects more promising.

When it was time to be discharged, not all four members of Fin.K.L appeared. Only Lee Hyori, under the cover of her sisters, secretly came to the hospital to visit Zhang Chengyuan. This deeply moved Zhang Chengyuan. Although he did not say any words of gratitude, he firmly remembered this in his heart, determined to repay her in the future.

Although he could be discharged, Zhang Chengyuan's facial skin was severely damaged, and new skin had not yet fully grown. To avoid frightening passersby, his face was still wrapped in bandages. Therefore, although they had known each other for several weeks, Lee Hyori had never seen Zhang Chengyuan's face, which left her somewhat regretful. She left her phone number, asking Zhang Chengyuan to contact her once he was fully recovered, and sincerely said to Zhang Donghu, "A well-behaved child like Chengyuan must have been very cute before and will be even more so in the future."

Zhang Donghu smiled and thanked her. Regardless of any changes to Zhang Chengyuan's appearance or whether there would be unsightly scars, Zhang Donghu did not care. The fact that his son was alive was the greatest comfort he could have, and he no longer wished for more. He always believed that as long as one was alive, there was hope in life. If the appearance was ruined, so be it; he could always send his son to Apgujeong for plastic surgery once they had enough money.

After seeing Zhang Donghu and his son out of the hospital, Lee Hyori bid farewell and hurried back to deal with her agent's daily supervision.

Taking a taxi back home, after lunch, Zhang Donghu rushed to the company to handle the transfer of his position. Zhang Chengyuan, after checking the entire house inside and out, returned to his bedroom to start meditating and practicing qi.

Zhang Chengyuan's bedroom was rather narrow and sparsely furnished, with only a wardrobe and a desk. To save space, there was no bed, and he slept on a mat on the floor at night.

Sleeping on the floor was once a common habit for most Koreans, with many not because they couldn't afford beds but because they found it more comfortable and warmer due to the underfloor heating. Additionally, some people believed that having a bed was a waste of space and money. In the Seoul metropolitan area, where nearly half of South Korea's population lives, the population density is extremely high, making the average size of civilian homes generally small. If a family had many members, a small room often had to accommodate two or three people, so they were reluctant to let beds take up space for human activities.

Fortunately, Zhang Chengyuan's previous life as a Taoist who lived outdoors made him indifferent to these matters. Sitting cross-legged, he removed the bandages from his face, took a mirror, and looked at himself, his brows furrowing tightly—his appearance was truly unbearable, like a lion stripped of its mane, ashamed to face other lions. In his previous life, although he did not consider himself as handsome as Pan An, he had a unique and ethereal demeanor. Now, with his face pitted and scarred, anyone who saw him would turn away in horror. How could he be considered a sage?

A righteous person should have a righteous appearance. Although a good appearance does not directly help in pursuing the Dao, it is essential for eliminating evil, accumulating merit, and spreading faith in the world. Imagine if every righteous cultivator from prestigious sects looked like Tu Xingzun or Zhu Bajie; wouldn't they be seen as a gathering place for demons and monsters?

From the perspective of both cultivators and the secular world, Zhang Chengyuan needed a good appearance. He did not want to be treated as a monster and avoided at all costs. In South Korea, beauty is not only a matter of etiquette but also a means of survival. Handsome men and beautiful women often have an easier path to success, a standard that is almost universal worldwide but even more pronounced in South Korea. Not only do entertainment stars spark a trend of plastic surgery, but high school students follow the trend during winter and summer breaks, and even some members of the National Assembly join in, as if they cannot survive without it. At this rate, it won't be long before even the President of South Korea undergoes plastic surgery.

Plastic surgery has become a trend and fashion in South Korea, with the public generally adopting a more tolerant attitude toward this practice, which originated from the West but has been widely embraced and developed by Koreans. In this atmosphere, South Korea has become a world-renowned center for plastic surgery, with artificial beauties and handsome men constantly emerging, making the streets of Seoul a beautiful sight.

However, in Zhang Chengyuan's heart, allowing others to cut and shape his face was a dangerous act, placing his life and happiness in the hands of others, which he could not trust. As a cultivator pursuing self-improvement, being cut without his knowledge was one thing, but now allowing others to do so would be foolish. His life should be in his own hands.

More importantly, modern medical plastic surgery is easily detectable and comes with inevitable side effects, often requiring rework after ten to twenty years or even sooner. The cost is also high, and the Zhang family's current financial situation could not afford it. Otherwise, he would have undergone further skin reshaping surgery in the hospital.

The skin must be restored, but Zhang Chengyuan would use his own methods. This is not a difficult task for a cultivator. When spiritual energy fills the body, every part of the body is invigorated, and any harmful substances, such as bacteria, oils, and impurities, are expelled from the body, making the body stronger and the skin as smooth as a baby's.

Unfortunately, the spiritual energy in the world today has been almost completely destroyed by industrialization. Even in beautiful natural reserves, it is no longer possible to quickly absorb pure and abundant spiritual energy as in his previous life. In a densely populated metropolis like Seoul, the process is even slower. If in his previous life, Zhang Chengyuan could regenerate his skin in just a few hours, now, even with daily meditation and cultivation for five to six hours, it would take at least a month of continuous practice.

In addition to his skin, Zhang Chengyuan was also extremely dissatisfied with his height and physique. He was not only thin and weak but also too short, which was why the original Zhang Chengyuan was often bullied. When Zhang Chengyuan stood on the ground from the hospital bed, he found himself half a head shorter than Lee Hyori, who was wearing leather boots, making him feel particularly embarrassed. His father, Zhang Donghu, was 185 cm tall, yet at the age of sixteen or seventeen, he had not even reached 170 cm, clearly a failure.

Feeling frustrated, Zhang Chengyuan resolved to reshape his image. Even if he could not become a revered sage like in his previous life, he would strive to become an extraordinary and distinguished person.