A Bowl of Noodles

"Bang, bang, bang..."

The blade struck the cutting board with a brisk, rhythmic beat. A brand-new kitchen knife lightly tapped along the split-open fish.

With every vibration, fish bones were swiftly shaken loose from beneath the flesh. Then Zhao Ke switched from a large knife to a small one, slicing and trimming. With a light shake, the entire fish skeleton separated from the meat, not a single bone missing.

"Beautiful!"

The four diners at the table widened their eyes at the miraculous knife work, even holding their breaths. Yet as they watched the remarkable deboning process, they could not help but praise it.

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

He swiftly sliced it, rubbed it with his 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 brought traces of disgust to their faces.

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

They were accustomed to delicacies made with top-grade ingredients. At the sight of offal like intestines, their first thoughts were grease, stench, and something unfit for a proper table.

Someone opened his mouth, intending to ask whether they could switch to another dish. Before he could speak, Zhao Ke ran his hand over the intestine, coating it in breadcrumbs, then casually tossed it into the fryer.

"Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle..."

A plume of blue smoke rose from the oil, accompanied by a faint fruity fragrance. On closer inspection, it also seemed to carry the scent of plums, making their mouths water and their appetites surge.

Once the breadcrumbs on the intestine had turned bright gold, Zhao Ke swiftly removed it, changed the oil, and fried it again.

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

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

After the third fry was complete, Zhao Ke removed the intestine and took a brand-new kitchen knife from the cabinet, lightly cutting into it.

"Whoosh..."

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

After wiping the irregular red sauce from the edge of the plate, Zhao Ke gently placed a mint leaf on top as garnish. Paired with its golden crust, the large intestine on the plate looked more like an exquisite work of art.

Had they not witnessed Zhao Ke prepare the dish from start to finish, they would never have believed it was made from intestines.

"Red Wine Intestine. Please enjoy."

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

Then came the fragrant, soft, savory taste of meat, mixed with a strong aroma of wine. Yet upon closer tasting, there was more than wine and meat. There was also the fragrance of plum.

Layer upon layer of flavor exploded 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 three-star Michelin restaurants, yet had never tasted cuisine this delicious.

"They're bear intestines."

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

"I see. 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 intestines 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—an enjoyment for both the eyes and the palate.

The layered bursts of flavor from Zhao Ke's Red Wine Intestine were astonishing. It was a feast upon the tongue, as though they were attending some grand celebration, leaving them in thoroughly cheerful spirits.

As usual, the banquet lasted until three in the morning. The four diners left looking completely satisfied, every one of them full of vigor and eager to rush home and battle their wives for three hundred rounds.

After clearing the table and taking stock of the remaining ingredients, Zhao Ke considered the fresh ingredients he had bought that day. Ordinarily, they could only be stored for three days, but with the Post Album, things were different.

Once converted into the Post Album, these ingredients would remain frozen in time within it, never rotting or spoiling. That was something a refrigerator could not do.

After tidying up, Zhao Ke lay back in his chair, took a silver cigarette case from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lightly inhaled its scent beneath his nose.

Just then, Zhao Ke heard the sound of a tricycle outside. His brows lifted as he thought, 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 who delivered produce here, always arriving at this time every day.

However, due to the heavy rain over the past few days, the farmer who regularly delivered vegetables had not come. Now that the weather had cleared, he had still rushed over at the usual hour. At least he was punctual.

However, Zhao Ke had already planned 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 those were not factors Zhao Ke cared to consider.

"Ding-a-ling..."

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 toward the voice. The young man standing at the door appeared to be around twenty-three or twenty-four. He somewhat resembled Old Zhang and stood in the entryway without coming inside.

At Zhao Ke's question about Old Zhang, the young man's expression immediately darkened, and his eyes grew damp. "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, and the surveillance footage 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 wrinkled beyond recognition and stained with blood.

"This was the order 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 accepted the note and looked at it. It was indeed the menu he had previously written for Old Zhang, and he suddenly felt uneasy.

They had known each other for quite some time, and Zhao Ke had held a good impression of Old Zhang. He had not 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. "Will you 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 absolutely won't pass off inferior goods as the real thing." The young man patted his chest as he assured Zhao Ke.

Yet as soon as he finished speaking, his stomach began to rumble, making him look rather embarrassed. It was his first time getting up so early to make a delivery, 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. Upon learning that he was called Zhang Lei, Zhao Ke nodded and told him to bring the vegetables inside.

"Okay!"

Zhang Lei was young and quick with his hands. He neatly carried basket after basket of vegetables into the kitchen. When he finished and came back out, he caught a whiff of something fragrant, making him even hungrier.

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

"Blub, blub, blub..."

A pot of noodles boiled on the stove. Zhao Ke casually made two soft-boiled eggs and placed them in a bowl, adding a little chopped scallion, a spoonful of soy sauce, a spoonful of white vinegar, and a bit of 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 go hungry."

At the sight of the bowl of noodles placed before him, those familiar words made Zhang Lei's eyes redden, and he could not stop himself from sobbing.

He hugged the bowl and stuffed the noodles into his mouth bite by bite. Tears and snot ran down his face, but Zhang Lei could not even be bothered to wipe them away.

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

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

As the page opened, a line of scarlet, blood-red words appeared before him. "The next package will arrive tonight. Please be ready to receive it."