The advantage of a large kitchen was its abundance of semi-prepared ingredients – many marinades, preserved foods, and soup stocks were already prepared and ready for use, rarely requiring fresh preparation.
Zong Hang wanted to recommend everything to her: “What would you like to eat? We have spare ribs, fish, braised beef is also good, and there’s jellyfish, cold dishes…”
Yi Sa had no appetite.
She was simply hungry – after such a major incident, the mental and physical exhaustion had left her stomach empty, wanting something to fill it – but thinking about those oily, heavily seasoned dishes made her nauseated.
She said: “Just make me a bowl of noodles with some vegetable leaves, that’s enough.”
The kitchen had a small stove. The noodles and vegetables would cook quickly – just add boiling water to the pot, bring it to a boil, and it would be done. Zong Hang thought this was too simple, while turning on the stove, he kept enthusiastically recommending: “Let me add some soup bones for you, or how about an egg? There’s also preserved vegetables, shall I get you a small dish of those?”
Yi Sa was already in a bad mood, and with Jiang Jun’s incident, her mind was in chaos. This eyeliner-wearing man was still clucking around her like a mother hen, constantly chattering in her ear. She suddenly snapped: “No! No! Water, noodles, vegetable leaves! Nothing else!”
The flame was burning steadily now.
Zong Hang stammered: “Then… no salt either?”
Yi Sa maintained her stern expression.
In her anger, she had forgotten about salt, but she had already made her declaration…
She said stiffly: “No salt either.”
Well, this made the noodles extremely simple. Zong Hang fell silent, quietly prepared the noodles, placed them in a bowl on the counter, set down the chopsticks, pulled over a stool, made a “please” gesture, then returned to his corner to peel potatoes.
Yi Sa had indeed been quite harsh.
It was his fault too – why did he talk so much?
Also, today was the 17th, he remembered that before the 19th of each month, her mood would gradually become irritable. That Cambodian tuk-tuk driver had even drawn a wave pattern graph about it – how could he have forgotten…
Yi Sa wrapped noodles around her chopsticks. The clear broth without a trace of oil, with just two vegetable leaves floating in it, truly met her requirements exactly.
She glanced at Zong Hang.
She had always disliked people who tried to curry favor with her. Perhaps because of her good looks, she had never been short of such attention from the opposite sex, and she had grown physiologically weary of all the tactics: the flirtatious sweet-talkers, those who’d try to get handsy after giving you some food or treats, the ones playing hard to get with roundabout strategies…
This eyeliner guy – that “the pineapple is sweet” comment at noon had already left her with a strange impression, and now he had to make such a fuss over a bowl of noodles. His excessive eagerness made her suspect his motives.
But oddly enough, after she had snapped at him, his cautious manner, so afraid of disturbing her, seemed rather pitiful.
Yi Sa felt her heart soften a bit.
But an apology was impossible – she had never apologized to anyone. Even as a child, when Yi Xiao had nearly twisted her ear off, she would only cry, never yielding.
She said: “Hey, let me give you some advice…”
Was she talking to him? Zong Hang’s heart jumped, he quickly put down his work and looked up with an expression both devout and serious.
Yi Sa gestured at her cheek: “Your face, with such a big scar…”
“You shouldn’t be wearing eyeliner and other messy stuff like that. To put it bluntly, people might think you’re an ugly person trying too hard. You’re a kitchen worker, it’s better to keep things clean and simple.”
Zong Hang nodded vigorously: “I won’t wear it anymore.”
Yi Sa had nothing more to say and lowered her head to continue eating her noodles.
There was still much to deal with – Chen Tu’s matter, Jiang Jun’s incident, and the Golden Soup opening would likely be delayed…
The lack of salt didn’t seem to matter much – she couldn’t taste anything anyway. Yi Sa finished in a few bites and pushed the bowl away: “If there’s a charge, put it on the main account, this bowl…”
Zong Hang hurried over: “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just wash it.”
Well, alright then.
Yi Sa said: “I’m leaving.”
As she opened the door to leave, she found this young cook quite interesting and couldn’t help looking back.
Zong Hang was watching her departure longingly, and when he suddenly saw her turn back, he became flustered, his first reaction was to wave: “Goodbye, goodbye!”
Yi Sa walked back to her room.
That kitchen helper gave her a very familiar feeling – who did he remind her of…
She took out her key to open the door.
The room was quiet. After the incident, even the boat seemed to have fallen silent. The window was half-open, the curtains floating in and out with the wind.
Yi Sa leaned against the door, feeling somewhat lost.
She couldn’t say she felt particularly sad about Jiang Jun’s death – after all, all that enthusiastic politeness had been an act on her part.
She didn’t like him.
That year, the three families gathered at the Three Rivers Source to search for the legendary cave “so deep even a ball of yarn couldn’t reach the bottom.”
They divided the vast headwater region into three large sections, with each family responsible for searching one area, led by their respective water ghosts, maintaining contact via radio.
The Yi family was small, with few water ghosts – only Yi Xiao and Yi Yun Qiao, who were of the same generation as Yi Jiu Ge but about ten years younger. Yi Yun Qiao was pregnant at the time and didn’t come.
To balance the manpower, many people from the Ding and Jiang families joined the Yi family’s convoy. Jiang Jun used helping as an excuse to join as well – Jiang Xiao Guang saw through his intention to spend time with Yi Xiao, laughed, and agreed.
If only Jiang Jun hadn’t come.
If he hadn’t come, perhaps they wouldn’t have discovered that cave.
Wouldn’t have led Yi Xiao Yi Jiu Ge and the others to search for it.
According to custom, the Yi family members went down into the cave, while Jiang Jun, being from another family, stayed above ground with the radio, maintaining contact with Jiang Xiao Guang and the others.
Then the incident happened.
To this day, no one could clearly explain exactly what occurred.
Several versions circulated among the three families.
Some said there was a sudden earthquake that collapsed the cave;
Some said they encountered an unknown creature that wiped them out;
Others said it was like an underwater explosion, suddenly bursting from underground.
Yi Sa thought the last version was the most credible, because according to Ding Chang Sheng, who was the first to arrive at the scene, Jiang Jun’s vehicle had been overturned and twisted, and he was found unconscious.
Also because in her remaining memories, something had fallen heavily from above onto the car roof, denting it, and then a skeletal hand, as if stripped of flesh and blood, reached down through the window.
Perhaps people had been blown up, their flesh and skin blasted away?
Later, she woke up in the Jianghe Hotel in Xining, her high fever just broken, feeling somewhat dazed and stupid.
Jiang Xiao Guang fed her canned pear syrup, gently telling her “Dad and sister have gone to a place very far away.”
She asked: “Then what about Brother Jiang?”
Jiang Xiao Guang said Brother Jiang was injured and in the hospital, and when he recovered, he would play with her again.
That’s when Yi Sa began to hate him. She was young, with no sense of right and wrong, only likes and dislikes, and the prejudiced notion that “if I blame you, then it must be your fault.”
You took my family away, they never came back, yet you were fine – how is that fair? You bad person!
She held that grudge for many years until she truly grew up and understood that no one should bear responsibility for some things.
If one had to be precise, perhaps it was just fate.
But “fate” was truly unpredictable, choosing the most unexpected moment to take Jiang Jun away as well.
Yi Sa sighed and went to close the window.
The window had no bars, making it possible for someone to climb in and out. Reportedly, the last person to see Jiang Jun was Jiang Xiao Guang: during the self-service lunch, noticing Jiang Jun hadn’t gone down to eat, he came up to knock on his door. Jiang Jun said he was feeling anxious about the Golden Soup opening that evening, couldn’t eat, and wanted to rest for a while.
After that, the water ghosts returned to their rooms one by one, with someone specifically stationed in the hallway to ensure their peace wouldn’t be disturbed.
Therefore, the incident must have happened in the afternoon. There had been no signs of struggle in the room – after all, with water ghosts living all around, any significant disturbance would have been heard.
The most logical conclusion was: that he had climbed out through the window when no one was on deck.
But why did he climb out? Who was he going to meet?
Yi Sa leaned out the window, looking left and right, then down…
At that moment, a sudden flash of realization struck her.
She remembered why that young cook in the kitchen seemed so familiar.
Because once, back in the Floating Village, someone had also waved goodbye to her. She had the same perspective then, looking down from the climbing ladder.
That person’s face had shown the same delight and contentment, as if seeing her off on a journey, waving continuously, exactly like the young cook when he bid her farewell tonight.
Yi Sa’s breathing suddenly quickened. She gripped the window frame, closed her eyes, and rapidly reviewed the images in her mind.
The two people.
Age… matched.
The build was consistent – both tall, lean, with fair skin.
The waving gesture, the smile on their faces, and the joy overflowing in their eyes…
She had never really looked at him properly – that scar was too conspicuous, and it would have been impolite to stare at someone’s flaw, so she had always just glanced briefly.
But thinking carefully now, everything suddenly made sense.
His almost clumsy eagerness, his cautious demeanor after being snapped at, never showing anger – it wasn’t calculated flattery, but because he knew who she was and had always felt grateful to her.
He was Zong Hang.
After Yi Sa left, Zong Hang stared at her soup bowl.
It was a shame he didn’t have a phone anymore – this would have been worth photographing, so meaningful: the first meal he had made for Yi Sa, made with his own hands, without salt.
Fortunately, she hadn’t fantasized about having some grand feast – his culinary skills were limited to just cooking noodles at best.
He picked up the soup bowl, about to put it in the sink when the door opened again.
Zong Hang said happily: “You…”
He swallowed the rest of his words.
It wasn’t Yi Sa returning.
Ding Xi stood in the doorway, his figure like an iron tower against the light, with the pitch-black corridor behind him.
A chill ran down Zong Hang’s back as he watched him warily: “Do you need something?”
Ding Xi closed the door behind him, quietly sliding the bolt shut, then walked in step by step, his gaze sweeping around: “I’m a bit hungry, is there anything to eat?”
Zong Hang stepped back, instinctively maintaining distance: “No, we’re closed, we’re not cooking anymore.”
Ding Xi made a sound of acknowledgment, examining Zong Hang with interest: “You’re… Zhang You He’s a replacement, what’s your name?”
Zong Hang hesitated: “Long… Long Song.”
Ding Xi smiled: “Long Song, that name… sounds very Southeast Asian.”
Zong Hang said: “Not at all, Long is a Chinese surname, my mother’s surname is Song, that’s why I’m called Long Song…”
Before he could finish, he suddenly raised his hand, hurling the bowl with its soup at Ding Xi’s head while simultaneously making a mad dash for the door.
Mentioning Southeast Asia – Southeast Asia was where he had “died” – how could he not smell something was wrong? Besides, Ding Xi himself had said, “Once you feel someone isn’t a good person, you shouldn’t trust them anymore”…
Zong Hang reached the door, and yanked hard on the handle, pain shooting through his hand – only then did he realize it was bolted.
Before he could reach for the bolt, it was too late. Ding Xi’s hand was already on his shoulder, violently twisting and pulling him backward. His whole body flew back, crashing down and knocking over two baskets of potatoes that rolled everywhere beneath him.
Zong Hang scrambled backward, accidentally touching a potato, which he grabbed and hurled at Ding Xi. Ding Xi tilted his head, and the potato hit the stainless steel door with a “bang.”
Ding Xi smiled, brushing the soup from his hair: “We were having a nice chat, why attack people? What’s wrong, got something to hide?”
He called out his name: “Zong Hang, that’s your name, right?”
In his panic, Zong Hang finally found the cleaver. His heart leaped as he grabbed the stainless steel table leg to stand up, holding the knife across his chest: “What do you want?”
Ding Xi looked at him contemptuously: “Zong Hang, someone like you won’t use a knife. Knives and guns are different…”
“Do you know how sharp this knife is? If I cut you, it’ll go right to the bone. The flesh will split open, blood will spray everywhere, and several buckets of water won’t clean it up…”
Zong Hang swallowed.
He was quite squeamish about such bloody scenes.
Midway through speaking, Ding Xi’s expression suddenly turned fierce. His foot hooked up a stool, kicking it diagonally at Zong Hang’s face. As Zong Hang froze, unsure whether to chop with the knife or block with his arm, Ding Xi dropped sideways to the ground, bracing with his right hand and ramming straight into him. As he got close, his left hand quickly passed between Zong Hang’s knees, grabbing and throwing him to the ground.
The cleaver clattered away with a loud crash.
Zong Hang didn’t know martial arts, he could only struggle and kick with all his might. Seeing Ding Xi coming to strangle his neck, he desperately clawed and pushed at his wrists, and for a moment, they reached a stalemate.
In his panic, Zong Hang didn’t find anything strange about this situation, but Ding Xi did – his expression turned almost unbearably ugly.
Ding Chang Sheng had trained him since childhood. The three families excelled in underwater skills rather than fighting, and he was one of the few who had trained in solid martial arts from an early age. He wouldn’t brag too much about his arm strength, but moving boats and cars was no problem.
Someone like Zong Hang, clearly an ordinary person with no training, not even particularly robust in build, could match his strength.
Ding Xi’s thoughts raced, wanting to end this quickly. He suddenly withdrew his hands, his fingers snake-like, sliding between Zong Hang’s fingers.
Before Zong Hang could react, Ding Xi suddenly hooked his fingers, controlling Zong Hang’s fingers, and forcefully bent them backward.
The sound of breaking finger bones – two or three cracks – Zong Hang almost passed out from the pain. Ding Xi seized this momentary opportunity, violently flipped him over, twisted his arms, and used his belt to bind them. Only then did he stand up, look around, empty a sack of sweet potatoes, use the binding rope to tie Zong Hang’s ankles, stuff a rag in his mouth, and put him in the sack.
Before tying it closed, he looked down at Zong Hang.
Zong Hang must have cried from the pain – his eyeliner was completely smeared, his chest heaving heavily, his eyes drilling into Ding Xi like awls.
Ding Xi smiled and said: “You’re interesting. I need to study you a bit.”
He tied the sack, efficiently cleaned up the scene, and after ensuring nothing was amiss, dragged the sack to the door.
He opened the door but didn’t rush out, hiding behind it to check the corridor.
Good – quiet and dark.
Ding Xi exhaled, bending down to drag the sack out.
At that moment, Yi Sa suddenly swung down from the corridor ceiling, her fists tightly clenched as if holding stun guns, striking both his left and right temples.
Caught off guard, Ding Xi’s vision blurred, his body swaying but amazingly staying upright. Without hesitation, Yi Sa immediately followed up with another strike.
This time, even someone made of iron couldn’t withstand it. Ding Xi’s eyes went blank, and he finally collapsed.
Zong Hang was covered in cold sweat from the pain, his vision alternating between gray and white, not knowing what had happened, only aware that Ding Xi had suddenly stopped, and then the sack was opened.
He looked up dazedly, the light from the lamp mixing with the gray and white in his vision.
He heard Yi Sa’s voice: “Zong Hang?”
Was it Yi Sa? Zong Hang blinked hard, trying to see her.
He couldn’t see, only her outline, and even that was doubled.
She leaned in close, pulled the rag from his mouth, then reached out to pinch a piece of flesh on his face, wiggling it.
Only in childhood had Zong Hang been pinched like this, by Tong Hong’s girlfriends. They said when he was three or four, his cheeks were full of meat, chubby, and nice to pinch, and every time they pinched him, he would stare with big eyes like a startled deer.
Zong Hang stared with wide eyes, not knowing what Yi Sa was trying to do.
After a while, Yi Sa released him, rubbing her thumb and index finger together to feel the makeup powder, and muttered: “A painted scar, you really… have some ideas.”