The person who had called her said in surprise from behind: “Er Dan, are you stupid today? At sea, regulations only allow each person two sheng of rice per day, cooked together. If you don’t eat, wouldn’t that benefit the rest of us?”
Only then did Tie Ci remember that the court strictly controlled sea vessels. Besides noting the appearance and place of origin of personnel going to sea, they also had to note the dates of departure and return, and each person could only carry two sheng of rice per day. Not eating wasn’t reasonable behavior.
Around the perimeter of the crowd, someone slowly stood up.
Tie Ci chuckled and, imitating Er Dan’s voice, said vaguely: “Just teasing you.” Then she turned back around.
But where was Er Dan’s bowl?
People were on all sides, everyone’s eyes burning bright.
Suddenly a huge basin came moving over. The person behind the basin charged straight in, bumping Tie Ci so she staggered and was squeezed flat against the bulkhead. He set down the large basin with a bang while saying in a rough voice: “What? Who’s not eating? What’s wrong? Think my cooking’s no good?” As if performing magic, he produced a broken bowl, carelessly loaded it with heaped food, and viciously shoved it into Tie Ci’s hands, saying: “Eat! Eat for me! Don’t want to eat but I’m making you eat! Leave even one grain of rice and I’ll make you eat shit later!”
The ladle in his hand flew in a circle above Tie Ci’s head. It looked like he wanted to give her a whack while he was at it, but for some reason, that arc slid over the top of her head and silently fell down again.
Tie Ci hastily took the bowl and, amid everyone’s laughter, lowered her head to eat hurriedly. After chewing a few bites, she was somewhat surprised to discover that this rice was made with mixed grains and millet, braised quite fragrant actually. Her gaze drifted over the top of her rice bowl to see the cook distributing food to everyone, wearing the kind of straw hat that sea people commonly wore to block the sun, only revealing a dark chin bristling with stubble.
At this moment, because another dish had been brought, everyone swarmed over to grab food, so no one was paying attention to her anymore. But the cook was still indignant, looking up and saying: “Where’s Er Dan’s bowl? Bring it here so I can smash it! If you don’t want to eat, then never eat again!”
Everyone hurried to dissuade him. It was still that same busybody from before who quickly grabbed a set of bowl and chopsticks and stuffed them into Tie Ci’s arms, laughing: “Quickly take away your eating gear, or Master Sun really will smash it.”
Someone nearby said while chewing: “He’d deserve it if it got smashed. Master Sun is the best cook I’ve encountered in all my years drifting at sea, and he has the nerve to act up!”
Another person laughed: “So having a bit of a temper is understandable. Everyone should give way. Ah, today’s stir-fried sea vegetables with bird shells smells so good!”
Tie Ci silently shoveled another mouthful of rice. Taking advantage of the crowd surging forward while she moved outward, that cook never raised his head, his dark, thin arms wielding the ladle so it nearly hit people’s heads several times.
She withdrew from the crowd and saw Dan Shuang walking toward her with a sickly expression. Tie Ci inquired with her eyes, and Dan Shuang said in a low voice: “Don’t even mention it. Just now they caught a sea star and called me over to try something fresh.”
Tie Ci: “…You ate it?”
Dan Shuang’s face was wooden, her eyes full of grief and indignation. After a long while she said: “I feel like it’s still stuck in my throat and hasn’t gone down… ugh, no good, I need to go throw up…”
Tie Ci only had time to remind her: “…Don’t let people see.”
Sigh, who knew who was more miserable.
She held her bowl, leaning against the ship’s rail. The stewed small fish was very fresh, the coarse rice had some fragrance, even the kelp was fresh, crisp, and tender. At the bottom of the bowl was shrimp paste—mixed with rice, it was delicious.
She actually felt somewhat better after eating.
Dan Shuang returned from vomiting. To maintain her persona, she didn’t dare approach Tie Ci, only made hand gestures to indicate that Er Dan had been stuffed into the partition wall.
Tie Ci asked with her eyes where San Hai was. Dan Shuang shook her head.
Unable to find San Hai meant he was a ticking time bomb. Tie Ci was somewhat worried.
She went down to the ship’s cabin once and, after questioning Er Dan in the partition wall about his daily work, sleeping arrangements, and other details, stuffed his mouth again and locked him back up.
By evening, because the weather was getting colder, there weren’t many people on deck. Tie Ci didn’t want to go early to the crew’s communal sleeping quarters to smell the stench. She dawdled on the ship, waiting until it was dark and thunderous snoring came from the communal quarters before preparing to go down.
It wasn’t that she wanted to sleep, but that she wanted to find the real San Hai. Where could a perfectly good person have gone?
The ship’s cabin had three levels. The first housed crew members, the second housed the ship’s captain, helmsman, some higher-status crew members, and merchants and their assistants traveling with the ship. The third housed the merchant ship’s owner.
Just as Tie Ci was about to go down, she saw an oil lamp swaying, and someone was coming up.
She stepped aside, pretending to clean the deck, and saw that person carrying a lamp in one hand with a paper bag hanging from his fingers, while the other hand dragged a folding leather stool. He came over with a shuffle, dragged over a large basin and flipped it over to set it down, took out an oil paper package from the paper bag and placed it at the bottom of the basin—there was even a small bottle of wine—then set up the leather stool and sat down comfortably.
Was he going to drink wine while facing the wind and watching the moon over the great sea? He certainly had elegant interests.
Tie Ci saw that person’s wide hat and stubbled chin and knew it was that hot-tempered cook.
The cook opened the oil paper package, and immediately delicious aromas wafted out. Tie Ci felt hungry again.
She turned to go downstairs, and behind her came a rough, hoarse voice: “Come, have a drink with your brother.”
Tie Ci stopped, and after a long while, turned around and dragged over a pile of rope to sit down on the other side of the basin.
The two sat on the deck with sea wind blowing toward them, the sound of endless waves outside the ship’s rail, facing a huge moon ahead.
On the table were several oil paper packages: fried fish jerky, crispy beans, salt and pepper sea snails, large shrimp, spicy stir-fried clams, and cold sea cucumber.
The crispy was crispy, the soft was soft, and the savory, fragrant, fresh, and spicy flavors all penetrated to the bone.
The cook pulled out another cup, casually wiped it on his greasy sleeve, and tossed it to Tie Ci.
As his sleeve moved, it faintly released some scents familiar to Tie Ci.
Tie Ci acted as if she hadn’t noticed, took it, and casually sipped. She was so burned by the heat that her eyebrows shot up, and she quickly grabbed some fish jerky to accompany the wine.
The cook drank his wine, his eyes glancing at Tie Ci over the rim of his cup. After a while he said: “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
“Mm.” Tie Ci picked up a sea cucumber and swallowed it in one bite. “Thanks for the good wine and food.”
She played dumb. The cook squinted at her for a long while, but Tie Ci ignored him and ate quickly.
The cook himself couldn’t hold back and said: “I mean about the eating incident earlier.”
Tie Ci skillfully sucked on a sea snail, pressing with her tongue to suck out the snail meat, then sucked the juices dry before saying slowly: “Oh, that matter.”
She said half a sentence and then stopped. The cook waited, but she picked up a second snail.
The cook had been somewhat uneasy, but his gaze fell on the corner of her lips, where he could vaguely see the tip of her tongue slip out a little, rosy red, pressing against the colorful snail. A flash of snow-white teeth tips, lips pursing together—slurp—clear and crisp.
Watching and watching, he felt inexplicably heated, those lips stained with red oil appearing bright as fire yet soft and tender. When they pursed like that, it made one want to lean over and suck to see what it would taste like…
His gaze began to wander.
Tie Ci suddenly flicked her finger, and the snail shell flew straight at the cook’s face.
The cook dodged his head to one side, the shell fell into the great sea, and a bit of red oil splattered at the corner of his lips.
He licked it, and a bit of burning heat penetrated into his heart.
Tie Ci turned her head away, then said unhurriedly: “About this matter, I just don’t understand why Your Lordship helped me. Did you do something guilty, so you need to do a good deed daily?”
The cook filled her wine cup and said: “Who in this world hasn’t done something guilty?”
“Guilty deeds also depend on the type.” Tie Ci tore apart a large shrimp. “Some people do guilty things because they have no choice, others have malicious intentions.”
“Who has malicious intentions toward you?” The cook held his wine cup to his lips, a trace of a smile barely perceptible. “I find you quite agreeable. Tell me who it is, point them out, and I’ll vent your anger for you.”
Tie Ci downed the refilled wine in one gulp, casually grabbed a handful of crispy beans, and stuffed in another fish jerky before standing up and saying: “No need to trouble yourself. I can handle it myself.”
After speaking, she stood up and lifted the leather stool chair the cook was lying on.
She raised her hand.
And flipped the cook right into the sea.
Spoke decisively, acted efficiently.
Splash—that was the cook’s unprepared ending.
Tie Ci snorted with laughter and brushed the crumbs off her hands.
Suddenly someone on the third level opened a window, and a woman’s beautiful face appeared, calling down sweetly: “Master Sun! My master is hungry, quickly prepare some late-night snacks.” She even threw a flirtatious glance downward.
She must be a concubine brought by the merchant ship’s owner.
Tie Ci stood in the shadows, caught that flirtatious glance, and quickly nodded. The woman withdrew her head, and Tie Ci mixed all the remaining dishes together into one pot and sent it upstairs, leaving it outside that door.
When the master’s family ate it tomorrow and wasn’t satisfied, they could take it out on that cook.
That Lan Xian’er came out to receive the late-night snack and couldn’t help being startled when she saw the confused mess of a pot. Tie Ci thought she was about to have a fit, but unexpectedly she said nothing and turned to carry it inside. Tie Ci heard Lan Xian’er say sweetly to the ship owner inside: “Good man, tonight’s mixed pot is interesting—try it!”
Tie Ci crossed her arms and leaned against the bulkhead listening, thinking what a flirtatious creature—in just two or three days on this ship, she could get people to take care of her!
She straightened her waist and turned to leave.
When going downstairs, she looked toward the great sea but didn’t see anyone’s head bobbing in the water.
Tie Ci paused, still went down, and when she reached the first floor, paused again.
All around was still quiet, with no one climbing aboard.
She estimated the height from which that fellow had fallen into the water and the force and angle of her flip, determining it definitely wouldn’t be enough to knock someone unconscious.
She lingered a while at the gangway entrance, moonlight outlining her half-bright, half-dark silhouette.
In the silence, her toes turned slightly.
Suddenly she heard a faint scraping sound from the side of the ship’s hull below.
She immediately stopped her feet, turned around, and went down to the ship’s cabin.
In the sea.
Someone was bobbing up and down by the ship’s side, boredly playing with a rope hanging underwater.
Waiting and waiting, waiting and waiting.
In the end, he never waited for the person he wanted to wait for.
Finally, he could only climb aboard ship dejectedly, cursing under his breath.
Heartless woman!