"The drool storage area... seriously?"

…

In his tiny rental room, Xavier Forest held his phone, rubbing his forehead like he was pushing down a headache.

"Xavier, buddy," Mr. Klein said on the other end, voice full of confusion, "you handled our contract perfectly. Why did your company suddenly tell me they were switching people?"

Xavier let out a small sigh. "Mr. Klein, I'm really sorry. That was a last‑minute decision from the company. I… already quit."

A pause. Then Mr. Klein snorted. "Suddenly switched, huh? Yeah, I get it. Your boss is really something else."

"Why don’t you just come work for me?" he added, tone straightforward. "I'll double your salary."

Warmth surged through Xavier’s chest for a second, but he still shook his head even though Klein couldn’t see it. "Thanks, really. But not for now, Mr. Klein. I want to take a break first."

"Alright. Whenever you're ready, call me."

He hesitated a moment, then added, "And by the way, I’m not signing that contract anymore either."

When the call ended, Xavier actually felt lighter, like someone had lifted a weight off him. He sneered a little to himself. This was basically the company slicing right into their own artery.

He knew better than anyone how badly the company wanted that contract. Supposedly, it was the biggest deal since the company was founded.

As for how he landed it… well, the whole thing was almost ridiculous.

Two months ago, on his way to work, he’d seen an old man sitting on the curb crying. He’d hesitated only a second before walking over. The old man looked confused, eyes wandering, clearly not fully aware of where he was.

Xavier had found a number in the man’s pocket and called it, then stayed with him until his family arrived. Because of that, he got to work late and had a hundred yuan docked from his pay.

The family kept trying to thank him afterward, but Xavier turned everything down. He honestly didn’t think much of it—just doing what any decent human being would do.

That old man’s eldest son was Mr. Klein—the same person who called him today. Somehow the man had tracked down Xavier’s company and directly sent people over to negotiate a huge deal… with Xavier.

Since Xavier never mentioned the incident, everyone at the company just assumed he’d gotten absurdly lucky, like a blind cat stumbling onto a dying mouse.

After all, he had only been with the company for a short while. A rookie like him getting the chance to land such a massive deal—if that wasn’t pure luck, what else could it be?

And just when the contract was basically wrapped up, the manager suddenly came to him and said the project would be reassigned.

And the guy taking over? Xavier Forest had heard plenty about him—a classic “well‑connected” employee, the boss’s own brother‑in‑law.

The commission alone on this deal was a huge number. Clearly, the boss felt Xavier was just a newbie and wasn’t worth that kind of payout.

Xavier blew up on the spot. He slapped his resignation on the desk and escaped that dumpster fire of a company as fast as he could.

Right now, he honestly kind of wanted to witness the boss’s face when he found out Mr. Klein wasn’t signing that contract anymore. That show would be priceless.

Even though venting felt great, the real problem was still right in front of him.

He was unemployed. And the cash in his pocket? Probably enough to hang on until his next rent payment, if he was lucky.

As for turning down Mr. Klein’s job offer—he had just been disgusted by one nepotism hire, and he wasn’t about to become another one.

Why did people have to work, anyway?!

Xavier stood by the window, let out a deep sigh.

And then—

Ding. Strong anti–wage‑slave emotions detected.

Complete the gourmet missions issued by this system to receive generous rewards.

“…Huh??? A… system?”

Xavier froze, wondering if he’d read too many web novels and finally hallucinated his way into one.

He pinched his thigh hard. The sharp pain made him gasp.

Not a hallucination.

And then the truly absurd stuff began.

[System Notice: Host is required to begin on Monday, every day at 20:00, arriving at Dawn Anorectal Hospital to sell Hellfire Juicy Wings.

0/1000

]

[System Notice: Host may now claim the full recipe and will obtain flawless mastery of all related cooking skills.]

[System Notice: Upon completion, the host will receive a generous cash reward

500,000

.]

[System Notice: All related tools have been issued, and ingredient purchase channels are now open.]

Sell ultra‑spicy wings at an anorectal hospital?!

Was this system serious?

Xavier Forest felt his vision dim for a second. The excitement of getting the system had barely warmed up before a wave of pure absurdity washed over him.

Selling hell-level spicy wings at a place like Dawn Anorectal Hospital… would he get chased out? Or straight-up get beat?

But now, with a shot at ditching the 9-to-5 grind, even if the system told him to go dance on a grave mound, he’d still grit his teeth and give it a try.

Fine. Whatever. He was doing it.

Xavier confirmed the task on the spot.

A golden icon shaped like a book popped up on the panel, shimmering like it was showing off.

And the moment it appeared, Xavier felt something surge into his mind—countless pieces of information about chicken wings, rushing in like a tidal wave.

Everything about wings.

Choosing the right cuts, marinating techniques, heat control, seasoning layers… even spice combinations he’d never heard of were suddenly crystal clear.

Even freakier, his hands suddenly carried a strange muscle memory—like he'd grilled tens of thousands of wings in his life.

Xavier stared blankly for a moment, then excitement crept uncontrollably across his face.

“This… this feels way too real…”

Just this level of grilling skill—he could open a tiny diner and never worry about food or rent again.

If he could claim the recipe, then the rewards had to be legit too.

Sure enough—this is exactly what life looks like when the cheat codes finally kick in.

...

...

“I’m riding my little food cart, my trusty little food cart, and it never, ever gets stuck in traffic…”

Monday night, just before eight.

Xavier Forest was cruising toward the entrance of Dawn Anorectal Hospital on a brand‑new food cart.

He hummed a random tune as he rode, the kind that slips out when your whole mood is floating.

The evening breeze brushed across his face, light and cool, carrying that taste of freedom he’d been craving for days.

Buzz—

His phone suddenly vibrated.

Xavier slowed down and pulled over. He grabbed his phone, glanced at the screen, and saw the caller ID: his old company’s supervisor.

“Hey, Xavier,” the supervisor said, voice unusually gentle. “You sick these past few days? Didn’t see you at work.”

“If you can, come in tomorrow, yeah? If not, just… rest another day.”

Xavier almost laughed. Since the day he joined that company, he had *never*—not once—heard the supervisor speak to him in such a soft, “we‑care‑about‑employees” tone.

Yeah… Mr. Klein must’ve started putting pressure on them.

“If I remember correctly, I already quit,” Xavier said, his voice cool and flat.

“Oh come on, what quit? I never approved anything,” the supervisor replied, still pretending to be all warm and reasonable. “Young people get tired. You wanna rest at home a few days, that’s totally fine. The thing is, about that client… if you really can’t make it, at least give them a call and expl—”

Xavier didn’t even bother listening to the rest.

Now they’re anxious? Now they remember he exists?

Too late.

“Where was all that urgency before?

So I’m the newbie, and that makes me easy to squeeze? No commission just because you feel like it?”

If it had been earlier, Xavier Forest would’ve probably let his anger explode right through the phone. But now, with the system suddenly in his life, the fire in his chest didn’t burn the same way anymore.

Honestly, wasting breath on people like this, on a company like that… pointless.

“Do not call me again. I’ve got nothing to do with your company anymore. Whoever you need, go find someone else.”

He hung up without hesitation and, with a few taps, blocked every single work contact that might still try to reach him.

…

In front of Dawn Anorectal Hospital.

This place happened to be the biggest anorectal specialty hospital in the whole city, so the patient flow was insane. And where there were patients, there were family members, nurses, doctors—people constantly moving through the area.

When Xavier arrived, several street vendors had already set up shop, most of them selling mild foods that wouldn’t torture delicate stomachs.

He parked his little barbecue cart and started getting ready to open up.

Next to him was a middle‑aged lady running a cold noodle stall, friendly enough that she started chatting the moment she saw him.

“Hey, young man, haven’t seen you around before. First day selling here?”

Xavier silently added the missing word “food” in his mind, then nodded.

“When I close up later, if I’ve got noodles left, I’ll pack you a bowl. No charge.”

She gave him a warm smile, looking like she wanted to continue, but a customer showed up for cold noodles. She rushed off to prepare the order, leaving no time for more small talk.

Yeah… she seemed like a genuinely good person.

And judging by the steady line of customers, her business was doing pretty well too.

A few people waiting for their cold noodles kept sneaking curious glances at Xavier Forest’s little grill cart.

But the second they read the sign, their expressions shifted into pure confusion.

“Hell… Fire… Juicy… Explosive… Wings?”

One guy read it out loud, then immediately cracked up.

“Bro, you’re seriously selling ultra‑spicy wings at the entrance of Dawn Anorectal Hospital?”

“You here to help us increase patient numbers or what?”

He couldn’t hold back the teasing.

Honestly, no one could blame them for being weirded out.

Setting up a stall for lava‑level spicy wings at a hospital that literally specializes in… that part of the body—it sounded like a dare from the universe.

Xavier had nothing to argue with.

He could only return a polite, helpless smile.

The man joking around was Chandler Chad, one of the hospital’s surgeons, about thirty or so.

For some reason, seeing Xavier’s stall had put him in the mood to chat.

“I’ve always felt that the stalls in front of hospitals should sell heavier flavors. Like, hospitals aren’t only for sick people, right?”

“You know what your stall reminds me of? When I went to Sichuan for some training, there was this anorectal hospital with a guy selling pork‑tripe chicken right at the entrance.”

“Hahaha, it was hilarious.”

Chandler laughed at his own story, not caring whether anyone else found it funny.

Ms. Brent, the lady selling cold noodles, chuckled a couple of times just to go along with him.

Xavier glanced at him, quiet but steady.

“Want to try a skewer? Pretty good stuff.”

The joke clearly didn’t land, and Chandler Chad looked a little let down.

When he heard Xavier Forest’s question, he lifted his brows and answered,

“Maybe next time. I’ve got a surgery coming up.”

He paused, then added with a straight face,

“If I eat something too spicy and suddenly need the bathroom, I can’t just stop halfway through a hemorrhoid operation and run out, right?”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, and an oddly vivid one. Chandler Chad used it to politely decline.

Xavier Forest nodded, not frustrated at all.

The first step is always the hardest, he told himself.

And doctors probably do have stuff they avoid before surgery…

It definitely shouldn’t be because he didn’t laugh at the joke just now.

With the cold noodles mixed and ready, Chandler Chad grabbed his bowl and headed to the small side table behind Ms. Brent’s stall, settling down to eat.

There were still a few minutes before eight.

After thinking for a moment, Xavier figured he might as well grill a skewer for himself first.

If the smell drifted out, maybe it would pull in someone willing to give it a try.

He flicked on the grill. The charcoal underneath quickly glowed red, heating up with a comforting hum.

This was real charcoal grilling—perfect for giving the wings a bit of smoky depth.

As the heat rolled upward, he placed a skewer holding two wings onto the grate.

His hands moved almost automatically. Every flip of the wings was clean and smooth, like he’d done it a thousand times.

The heat and timing—he handled both with such precision it felt like watching a live tutorial, satisfying and effortless.

Beyond the fire control, the real secret of these juicy, flavor-packed wings lay in the long soak they had taken earlier—saltwater and spices mixed in the perfect ratio, slowly working their magic.

As the wings were almost done roasting, the real highlight of the Hellfire Juicy Wings finally came into play.

Twelve types of chili powders, each with a different flavor profile and even a different level of grind, had to be sprinkled in a strict order, down to the second. The wings, already grilled to a golden crisp, were soon coated with layers of reds and browns, each shade hinting at a different kind of heat.

The aroma spread fast. The smoky scent of fat sizzling over charcoal blended with the sharp, fiery kick of the chilies, creating a smell so intense it felt like it could hook someone by the soul.

Xavier Forest looked at the wings in his hand, satisfied. Time to taste.

The moment he took a bite, he froze.

“So spicy!”

The heat hit him like a burst of flames erupting straight from the depths of hell, searing across his mouth. But right after that explosion, the tender, juicy meat came through, rich and fragrant, pulling his senses in another direction entirely. It was almost magical, the way it balanced out the burn without canceling it.

Every chew was a back‑and‑forth between fire and flavor. Sweat rolled down his face, but he couldn’t stop. In what felt like seconds, both wings were gone, bones picked clean.

Just as Xavier was lost in the bliss of that taste, a voice suddenly popped up behind him.

“Boss! Smells amazing!”

Xavier nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around and saw the same guy who’d bought cold noodles earlier, staring at the wings in his hand like a starving man spotting treasure.