I started on a deserted island and encountered Ying Zheng, who insisted I was an immortal.

"Shu'er, you don't know this, but the master's abilities are boundless!"

Wang Ben, spitting as he spoke, gestured with his hands as he boasted to his daughter about Zhang Ying's various "miracles."

"That water can freeze into ice!"

"That paper, you saw it? It's even better than silk. The teacher said it's called linen paper, it's...it's used for writing things down!"

"And the grain, yielding five thousand catties per mu! Five thousand catties! That will ensure no famine in the world!"

"And those curved-shaft plows and seed drills are all powerful tools for national prosperity!"

"And then there are potato chips, sweet potato fries, lamb skewers, hot pot..."

As Wang Ben spoke, he couldn't help but slurp his saliva, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I've never eaten such delicious mutton in my entire life. Even if I die now, it'll be worth it!"

Wang Ruoshu was deeply shocked.

Ying Zheng, standing to the side, added in a timely manner, his tone extremely solemn.

"The Master himself told me that he was a celestial being, who came from heaven."

"Because he violated the heavenly rules, the Heavenly Emperor stripped him of his magical powers and imprisoned him on this island."

He paused, then emphasized his words.

There really are immortals in this world.

......

Wang Ruoshu was awakened by a strange, refreshing fragrance.

She opened her eyes, and the "immortal" named Zhang Ying was handing her a broken willow branch.

There was also a rough earthenware bowl containing a little bit of fine white salt, and next to it was another bowl of green water that exuded the fragrance of mint.

Brush your teeth and rinse your mouth.

Zhang Ying's tone was flat, offering no further explanation.

Wang Ruoshu held the rough willow branch in her hand, then looked at the salt in the bowl, her heart filled with confusion.

The noble ladies of Xianyang used special ointments and fine cloths to clean their teeth every morning; they had never used such crude things.

But this belongs to an immortal.

She imitated Zhang Ying, gently rubbing her teeth with the end of a willow twig and then rinsing her mouth with the mint water.

An unprecedented refreshing sensation exploded in my mouth, even more invigorating than the best mouthwash in the palace.

As she looked at Zhang Ying's retreating figure, her sense of awe deepened.

The aroma of breakfast soon wafted out from the depths of the cave.

Zhang Ying was carrying a large wooden tray with a pile of plump, steaming white things on it.

"Steamed buns, the staple food," he said succinctly.

"This thing... is so soft?"

Wang Ben was the first to reach out and pinch one in his hand; the texture was unlike any other type of noodle he knew.

The noodles he remembered were the kind of flatbread used in the army that could be used as bricks; they were dry and hard, and had to be soaked in water before eating.

Zhang Ying glanced at him.

"The dough was made with old yeast. I don't have a stone mill here, so the wheat was coarsely ground and contains bran. Just make do with it."

Old yeast?

Bran?

Ying Zheng and the other two were completely bewildered, thinking it was just vocabulary that only immortals could understand.

Wang Ben couldn't wait any longer, and he tore it open with force.

"hiss--"

A rich aroma of wheat wafts up with the steam, and the inside of the steamed bun is as soft and fluffy as a cloud.

He stuffed a large mouthful into his mouth.

The chewing motion stopped.

It was a pure, slightly sweet wheat aroma that melted on the tip of the tongue.

No other dishes are needed; the texture and flavor of this steamed bun alone are enough to make one feel intoxicated.

"Delicious! So delicious!"

Wang Ben praised vaguely, finished one in a few bites, and reached for the second one.

Ying Zheng was not as rude as him.

He picked up a steamed bun and examined it carefully.

Each one is almost exactly the same size.

If used as military rations, this would mean that the rations for each soldier could be precisely quantified, eliminating deductions and waste.

Wang Ruoshu also ate in small bites, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She never imagined that there could be such delicious noodles in the world, a hundred times better than the flatbread made by the best chef in the Prince's mansion.

"This has no flavor on its own."

As Zhang Ying spoke, she brought over another plate of stir-fried dishes.

Golden strands, dotted with bright red bits, release a tangy and spicy aroma that fills the nostrils.

"Hot and sour shredded potatoes, eat it like that."

He picked up a steamed bun, cut it in half with chopsticks but not all the way through, and then stuffed a piece of shredded potato into it.

A simple Chinese-style hamburger is ready.

Wang Ruoshu found it fascinating and tried to imitate it.

She imitated Zhang Ying, breaking the steamed bun open and stuffing it with golden potato shreds.

The bright colors made her very hungry.

She opened her mouth and took a small, gentle bite.

First comes the soft and sweet steamed bun, followed by the crispness of the shredded potatoes, and a perfectly balanced sour taste.

It has a unique flavor, but it's also delicious.

She grew bolder and took another big bite.

This time, she bit into a piece of red bits mixed in with the shredded potatoes.

"ha--"

An overwhelmingly hot sensation exploded from the tip of her tongue and shot straight to the top of her head.

Wang Ruoshu's face flushed red instantly, and her beautiful crescent-shaped eyes were instantly filled with tears.

"Water...water..."

She stuck out her tongue and fanned herself frantically.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Wang Ben looked at his daughter's disheveled appearance and laughed heartily.

Zhang Ying handed over a bowl of water, somewhat speechless.

If you can't handle spicy food, don't force yourself.

"Sir, what...what is this? Why is it so spicy?"

"Chili peppers, a kind of seasoning," Zhang Ying explained. "As for this," he pointed to the shredded potatoes on the plate, "it's called potatoes. I roasted some for your dad and the others before."

"Then... then what is this flour made of? How much is produced?" Ying Zheng asked again.

"Wheat flour isn't very productive, only about a thousand catties per mu (unit of land area), and it takes up a lot of space, so I don't grow much," Zhang Ying said casually. "We're almost out of flour, so if you want some, you'll have to find your own way."

A mu of land... a thousand jin?

Is it still called poor production?

Ying Zheng and Meng Yi exchanged a glance, both seeing a monstrous wave in each other's reactions.

Even the best farmland in the Qin Dynasty could only yield two or three hundred catties of millet per mu.

The yield of this "wheat" is four to five times that of millet!

If these two divine treasures were widely distributed, how could Qin possibly worry about insufficient food supplies? How could it possibly worry about the stability of the realm?

"Dad, I want to eat the one with something inside."

After Wang Ruoshu recovered, the spiciness subsided, and a strange sweet aftertaste lingered on the back of her tongue, which she found somewhat addictive.

"Promising."

Wang Ben complained, but his hands betrayed him by picking up another one for his daughter.

The atmosphere in the cave became exceptionally lively because of this novel breakfast.

Looking at these ancient people who seemed to have never eaten anything good, Zhang Ying thought to herself, "If I cook them a hot pot in a few days, won't that make them stupid?"

Just then.

Meng Yi, who had been silently savoring his food, suddenly stopped eating.

He placed the half-eaten steamed bun on the wooden plate, his brows furrowed tightly.

"wrong."