A Bowl of Noodles

"Bang, bang, bang..."

The blade struck the cutting board in brisk, rhythmic taps. With a brand-new kitchen knife, Zhao Ke lightly tapped along the split fish.

Fish bones were quickly shaken loose from beneath the flesh. Then he switched from a large knife to a smaller one, cutting above and below. With a light flick of his wrist, the entire fish skeleton separated from the meat, not a single bone missing.

"Beautiful!"

The four diners at the table stared wide-eyed at the miraculous knife work, even holding their breath. Yet faced with such a spectacular deboning process, they could not help but praise him.

Zhao Ke nodded with a smile and took a pink intestine from a basin of water.

He swiftly sliced it, coated it with a secret seasoning, then stuffed the fish meat mixed with red wine into the pink intestine.

"Intestines!"

Though they were amazed by Zhao Ke's incredible knife skills, the sight of the intestine still made their brows furrow with faint disgust.

Those who could spare the time to travel from the city to the suburbs and pay a hefty price for a meal were naturally no ordinary people. They were either wealthy or influential.

They had long been accustomed to gourmet dishes made from the finest ingredients. Seeing offal like intestines, their first thoughts were greasy, gamey, and low-class.

Someone opened his mouth, wanting to ask if he could change to another dish. Before he could speak, however, Zhao Ke wiped his hand over the intestine, coating it in breadcrumbs, then casually dropped it into the fryer.

"Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle..."

A wisp of smoke rose from the fryer, accompanied by a faint fruity fragrance. On closer sniffing, there seemed to be the slightest scent of plum within it, making their mouths water and whetting their appetites.

Once the breadcrumbs on the intestine had turned bright golden, Zhao Ke quickly took it out, changed the oil, and fried it again.

He fried it three times in total. Any other dish would probably have been blackened and burnt by then.

Yet the intestine in Zhao Ke's hands only grew brighter with every fry.

After the third round of frying, Zhao Ke took out the intestine, retrieved a brand-new kitchen knife from the cabinet, and lightly sliced into it.

"Whoosh..."

A rich wine aroma rushed forth. Inside the sliced intestine was not greasy fat, but translucent crimson fish meat. Jewel-colored juices dripped from the cut onto the plate, releasing an intense fragrance of wine.

After wiping away the uneven red sauce around the rim of the plate, Zhao Ke gently placed a mint leaf in the center as garnish. Paired with its golden crust, the large intestine on the plate looked more like a work of exquisite art.

If they had not witnessed Zhao Ke's entire cooking process with their own eyes, they never would have believed that this dish had been made from intestines.

"Red Wine Intestines. Please enjoy."

Once the plate was served, the four diners no longer cared what ingredients had gone into the dish. They eagerly put it into their mouths. "Crunch, crunch, crunch..." First came a crisp, forceful crackle, followed by the movement of their mouths.

Then came a soft, fragrant meaty flavor, mixed with a strong aroma of wine. Yet upon tasting carefully, beneath the wine and meat was another scent—plum.

Layer upon layer of flavors erupted across their taste buds, making it impossible to stop.

"I never knew pig intestines could be prepared like this."

One diner could not help but marvel. He had eaten at countless three-star Michelin restaurants, yet had never tasted such delicious cuisine.

"It's bear intestine."

Zhao Ke gently wiped the grease from his blade with a damp cloth as he corrected the man.

"So that's how it is. I thought this place was rather expensive before, but now... it's worth every penny."

Hearing Zhao Ke's explanation, the four diners suddenly understood. As for where the bear intestine had come from, they could not be bothered to ask.

To them, this dinner was more enjoyable than any banquet they had attended before. It was not a gathering so much as an indulgence, a feast for both the eyes and the palate.

The layered explosions of flavor in Zhao Ke's red wine intestines were astonishing, but more than that, they were a banquet upon the tongue. It felt as though they were attending some grand celebration, leaving them thoroughly delighted.

As usual, the banquet continued until three in the morning. The four diners left with satisfied looks on their faces, each of them brimming with energy and itching to rush home and fight three hundred rounds with a woman.

After clearing the table, Zhao Ke took stock of the remaining ingredients. The fresh ingredients he had purchased today should only have lasted three days, but things were different now that he had the Post Album.

Once transferred into the Post Album, the ingredients would remain frozen in time inside it, never rotting or spoiling. It was a function no refrigerator possessed.

After tidying up, Zhao Ke lay back in his chair, took a silver cigarette case from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and gently sniffed it beneath his nose.

Just then, Zhao Ke heard the sound of a tricycle outside. His brow rose. Old Zhang is here.

He checked the time. It was already four in the morning. Sure enough, it was still this hour.

As mentioned before, Zhao Ke had a vegetable farmer responsible for delivering produce here, and he came at this time every day.

However, the heavy rain over the past few days had kept the farmer who delivered vegetables here every day from coming. Now that the weather had cleared, he had still rushed over at the usual time. He was quite punctual.

But Zhao Ke had already decided to cancel all of Old Zhang's future orders.

Perhaps the rain was why Old Zhang had been unable to come these past few days, but Zhao Ke did not consider such factors.

"Jingle, jingle..."

Before long, the bell hanging on the door rang, followed by a loud voice. "Hello, I'm here to deliver vegetables."

"You? Where's Old Zhang?"

Zhao Ke looked over at the sound. The young man standing at the entrance was around twenty-three or twenty-four years old and bore some resemblance to Old Zhang. He stood in the foyer without entering.

When Zhao Ke asked about Old Zhang, the young man's expression immediately darkened, and his eyes quickly grew moist. "Four nights ago, there was a terrible storm. My dad was pushing his cart here to deliver vegetables when he was hit by a large truck. The rain was too heavy, so the cameras couldn't make out the license plate at all. So... there's still no news about the driver."

As he spoke, the young man took a slip of paper from his pocket. It was crumpled beyond recognition and stained with blood.

"This is the list of vegetables my dad told me to deliver here before he died. He also asked me to apologize to you. He won't be able to come anymore."

Zhao Ke took the note and looked at it. Sure enough, it was the menu he had previously written for Old Zhang. An unpleasant feeling rose in his chest.

They had known each other for quite some time, and Zhao Ke had thought well of Old Zhang. He had never expected him to be gone just like that.

Turning back to look at the young man, whose face was already covered in tears, Zhao Ke nodded. "You'll be delivering the vegetables from now on?"

"Yes, I will. I guarantee I'll deliver them on time every day. You can rest assured about my family's vegetables—we definitely won't pass off inferior goods as good ones." The young man patted his chest and promised Zhao Ke.

But as soon as he finished speaking, his stomach started growling. His face turned awkward. It was his first time getting up this early to deliver vegetables, and afraid of being late, he had not even eaten breakfast.

Zhao Ke looked at the bloodstained note in his hand and asked the young man's name. When he learned that he was called Zhang Lei, Zhao Ke nodded and told him to bring the vegetables inside.

"Okay!"

Zhang Lei was young and quick on his feet. Basket after basket of vegetables was neatly placed in the back kitchen. Once he finished the work and came back out, he caught a whiff of something fragrant, making his stomach feel even hungrier.

Zhao Ke waved a hand, signaling Zhang Lei to sit down.

"Bloop, bloop, bloop..."

A pot of noodles boiled in the soup pot. Zhao Ke casually made two soft-boiled eggs and put them into a bowl, then added a little chopped scallion, a spoonful of soy sauce, a spoonful of white vinegar, and some seasoning. Once the noodles were cooked, he ladled both noodles and broth into the bowl.

"The night is dark and the wind is cold. You can't stay hungry."

Looking at the bowl of noodles placed before him, those familiar words made Zhang Lei's eyes redden, and he could not help but sob.

He held the bowl of noodles and stuffed mouthful after mouthful into his mouth. Tears and snot ran down his face, but Zhang Lei did not bother wiping them away.

He could no longer taste anything, but he knew this was the warmest bowl of noodles he had ever eaten in his life.

The following afternoon, Zhao Ke woke from his sleep. Lying in the pitch-black coffin, he reached out and summoned the Post Album, flipping to the exchange list on its final page.

As the page opened, a line of blood-red words appeared before Zhao Ke.

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