The cover carries its Chinese title alongside the English one, and that detail matters. Erha He Ta De Bai Mao Shizun arrives in translation with its original name still attached, which is how the best of this tradition travels: nothing sanded off, the world left intact.
Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou writes in a mode our shelving struggles to file neatly, with fantasy, romance and general fiction all making a claim on it. That untidiness is accurate rather than careless. This is long-form serial storytelling in which masters and disciples, old grudges and longer devotions are given equal weight, and where a romance is allowed to take precisely as long as it needs.
Volume one is where it begins, and beginnings in this form tend to be patient. Give it room.