Food

Two minutes later, after circling two clusters of shrubs and rounding several small bends while picking up fallen leaves and branches along the way, Wu Qingchen slowed his pace beside a steep slope and a few dense, low trees. He quickly scanned his surroundings once more, then approached one of the small trees, pushed aside several branches reaching toward the cliff with his left hand, and, with his right, raised a leafy branch he had just picked up, gently sweeping the exposed soil beneath the branches.

With the gentle movement of the branch, a piece of dark bark gradually appeared on the earthen cliff. When the bark was fully revealed, Wu Qingchen set down the branch and carefully removed the dark bark, exposing a square hole in the cliff about thirty centimeters wide and forty centimeters deep, its five sides lined with bark to separate the soil.

He then reached into the square hole and cautiously lifted another piece of bark, upon which lay several sharp stone fragments, twisted small vines, long thorns of bramble, a few small wooden spoons, and several branches of various shapes. Placing the bark securely on the ground, Wu Qingchen moved to the other side of the cliff, stood beside another small tree, and this time swiftly turned around, producing a sharply pointed spear roughly three centimeters in diameter and a meter in length.

Leaning the spear against the cliff, Wu Qingchen returned to the tree, took out two round stones and a small tuft of tree fibers, placed the fibers on the ground, arranged the gathered dried leaves and branches, checked the wind direction, shielded the breeze with his body, and struck the two stones together several times. A faint wisp of blue smoke appeared, and with a gentle blow, a small flame kindled by the creek at the foot of the cliff.

This was both Wu Qingchen’s dining room and his kitchen.

Having arranged the kindling, he adjusted the setup according to the methods taught by a chef and a mercenary from his life coach, ensuring the smoke was minimized. Then, seizing the spear leaning against the cliff, Wu Qingchen stood by the creek. In about five minutes, a streak of red appeared in the clear water. Retrieving the spear, he placed a half-pound fish onto a stone by the creek, quickly gutted and cleaned it with the sharp stones and bramble thorns from the bark.

Another two minutes later, a branch was propped over the fire to roast the fish. While adjusting the angle, Wu Qingchen evenly sprinkled stone salt, grass juice, bean powder, and other seasonings, found according to the life coach’s instructions, onto the fish.

Chapter Twenty-three: Food (Part II)

Soon the fish began to emit a tantalizing aroma. Wu Qingchen twitched his nostrils, about to turn the fish again, when suddenly a faint “chirp” sounded from the eastern shrubbery nearby.

The weather was clear, with occasional breezes by the creek, and the lush trees on either side rustled softly. Since Wu Qingchen had arrived, various sounds had drifted from the surroundings. Throughout his activities—pausing, gathering tools, catching fish, lighting a fire, and roasting the meal—Wu Qingchen had barely reacted to the ambient noises.

Yet at this precise moment, the quiet, barely perceptible “chirp,” much fainter than any sound of the past hour, made Wu Qingchen spring up as if he’d stepped on a loaded spring. Instantly, he darted to the side of the cliff by the low trees, eyes fixed and accurate, peering through the dense foliage directly at the spot where the sound originated.

This rapid sequence, completed in two seconds, and the precise identification of the sound’s source, was because Wu Qingchen was watching a small trap he had set. It posed no harm or danger, its sole purpose to emit this faint but unmistakable “chirp,” entirely distinct from the surrounding noises.

Wu Qingchen’s kitchen and dining area had five such sound traps, evenly distributed along the three main paths to his kitchen. The other small gaps through the woods, once barely passable, had, after two days of moving shrubs and bending branches, become natural obstacles impossible to traverse without making a loud disturbance.

Fixing his gaze on the triggered trap, Wu Qingchen stood silently, observing as taught by his life coach—a mercenary and special forces soldier—for half a minute. Finding no sign of human activity, he returned to the fire, finished roasting the fish, and began his midday meal.

After eating, Wu Qingchen hid the spear, replaced the utensils and seasonings in the square hole of the cliff, then wrapped the meal’s leftovers in leaves using pre-prepared vine twine.

He carefully checked his surroundings to ensure nothing was forgotten, then left the creek.

This time, Wu Qingchen did not retrace his earlier path but climbed the creek bank a few meters away along a gentle slope, following a small path through the branches and shrubs to the sound trap that had been triggered. He reset the trap with stones and vines.

Circling back, Wu Qingchen returned to the wooden bridge over the creek. As he crossed, he paused slightly. Around the bend, a middle-aged man holding a sickle approached.

“Little Los, heading home?”

“Yes, Uncle Avilia. Starting the afternoon chores so early?”

“Yes, still some pasture to harvest.”

A brief exchange, and the two passed each other. Rounding the corner, Wu Qingchen discreetly flicked the last leaf-wrapped vine into the shrubbery.

At this point, Wu Qingchen’s lips were dry, hands empty, and his robe carried only a faint scent of plants—no longer any trace of having just eaten a hearty meal.

Page one ends.

At this, Wu Qingchen had truly completed his entire midday routine.

He had eaten such lunches seven times, in three different kitchens, each location and setup chosen by the advisory team after careful military analysis. Given the circumstances, all three kitchens were near water, though only the current spot was suitable for fishing and roasting; the others relied on woodland and hillside ingredients. The differences in ingredients led Wu Qingchen to learn varied tools and seasonings, which he continued to refine. About two kilometers from the creek, he had even prepared all materials to fire several simple clay pots for soup, once time and opportunity allowed.

After more than ten days of labor, Wu Qingchen had grown adept at farm work. With more nutritious food and improved methods, life in the medieval world had become much easier.

Having just finished lunch and rested a bit, Wu Qingchen felt much less fatigued and walked with a lighter step.

Fifteen minutes later—that is, thirty seconds in Earth time.

----

Earth, Z Country, Capital, Temporary Training Command, Third Training Comprehensive Office, Life Coach Group.

The spacious room was brightly lit. Over twenty large screens were lined up, each with a dozen focused observers below.

On the thirty-times slow-motion projection screen, by the wooden bridge over the creek, Wu Qingchen, noticing Old William and his two brothers disappear around another bend, quickly stood up, scanning the deserted surroundings, then bent down, following the creek bank upstream.

“Stop!”

One of the life coaches—a special forces soldier with confidential name, age, branch, and unit—raised his right hand, freezing the screen. “Reconnaissance is not stealthy enough, observation is not comprehensive. Here… here… here…” He tapped three spots on the screen with a pointer. “These three angles weren’t covered. Also, the walking posture is incorrect—look here, here, the heel is lifted too high, which will leave deep tracks. Furthermore…”

As he spoke, two staffers typed, two took notes, and three soldiers operated cameras, rapidly recording his points.

“STOP!”

Three meters away, as the slow-motion screen showed the sound trap’s “chirp” and Wu Qingchen’s sudden leap, another life coach—a well-traveled mercenary, expert in stealth in war-torn regions across Asia, Africa, and Latin America, equally at home in swamps, rainforests, deserts, and badlands—raised his right hand.

The screen froze, and the mercenary quickly rattled off a string of words: “Reaction too slow, too many unnecessary movements—Mr. Wu hasn’t mastered this at all. Look here… here… after standing up, he didn’t immediately use prepared cover for concealment, instead…”

“Hold on.”

Another three meters away, another slow-motion screen froze as a chef’s pointer highlighted Wu Qingchen’s fire made of dried branches and leaves. Li Dezheng, fifty-three, national master chef and head chef of several five-star hotels, shook his head: “Note this—these leaves aren’t suitable for fire, they leave a heavy burnt smell. Also, these two branches are arranged incorrectly, with no air channel, which increases smoke…”

As he spoke, two staffers typed, two took notes, and three soldiers operated cameras, recording all his comments.

“Stop!”
“Stop!”
“Here!”
“Slow down.”
“Wait a moment.”

One command after another echoed through the large room, with the twenty-plus screens freezing in turn.

At a huge desk on the right, Li Deyi, the fifth deputy leader of the Life Coach Group at the Third Training Comprehensive Office of the Temporary Training Command, saw a stream of suggestions and reference materials for the next training rapidly accumulate before him.

----

Page two ends.

At that moment, Wu Qingchen’s medieval home appeared before him.

“Los is back! Hey… Los!”

Spying Wu Qingchen from afar, a little girl stirring porridge at the door waved and called out.

This was Nina, Los’s sister, Old William’s eldest daughter—the girl who had blocked Wu Qingchen with her plate when he first arrived.

“Hey… Nina.”

Nodding to Nina, Wu Qingchen entered the wooden house, used his usual wooden bowl to ladle some hot water from the pot, and after the water cooled a bit, drank a few sips. Then his mother and Nina brought three large bowls, placing them before the four men and setting three small bowls in front of each.

It was still the same unchanged, pure, natural green food.

Green soup, green peas, green porridge.

Yet the quantity and distribution of the food had subtly changed.

Compared to when Wu Qingchen first entered the medieval world, the three large bowls now heaped half an inch higher. When dividing the food, his father and Idra’s bowls were still full, Grace’s slightly less, but Wu Qingchen’s three small, distinctively washed wooden bowls—different from the others after daily cleaning—were now filled to match Grace’s share, rather than only half.

Work more, eat more—the simple, intuitive principle of primary-stage socialist distribution.

As before, after these four servings, the three large bowls held only a thin layer at the bottom, just enough to fill two small bowls, left for Mother and the salivating Nina.

Whether in the medieval world or modern Earth, eating only fish and no vegetables is certainly unhealthy. So, despite having eaten half a pound of fish, Wu Qingchen closed his eyes, frowned, picked up his wooden bowl and spoon, and grimly, painfully, began his battle with the medieval witch’s potion before him.

By now, little Nina had finished her meager portion but, unlike when Wu Qingchen first arrived, did not wander off; instead, she stood by, licking her lips and glancing hopefully at the table.

“Come, Nina.”

Her expectant gaze was soon rewarded. After eating the green peas and soup, Wu Qingchen quickly drank some of the half-cooled water he had prepared on entering and extended his right hand, pushing the last bowl of porridge toward Nina.

“Los, aren’t you eating again?”

Old William frowned as Wu Qingchen pushed the third bowl of porridge to Nina—the tenth time in five days.

“Father, I’m full.”

Wu Qingchen patted his stomach. Perhaps due to growing accustomed, eating green peas and green soup was still torture, but now barely resembled the taste and effect of herbal medicine.

As for the green porridge—regardless of Nina’s longing eyes and thin cheeks—for Wu Qingchen, whose stomach already held half a fish, it was less food than burden.

“Sigh…”

Old William shook his head, sighed, and said no more.

“Eat up, Nina, your brother is full.” Drinking the last of the cooled water, Wu Qingchen smiled and placed the final bowl in Nina’s hands.

“Mm…” Taking the bowl, Nina didn’t devour it as usual, but gazed at Wu Qingchen, biting her lip, the faint light in her eyes shimmering.

Seeing her grateful look, recalling the half fish just eaten, Wu Qingchen stood up and sighed softly.

Page three ends.