to be or not to be
To live, or to perish.
Like this, or like that.
That was the question—the question of Shakespeare.
The old hen was a little sad. It had never imagined that one day, this would become its question, though it had no idea who Shakespeare was...
It had once been the confident chicken in the household, strutting about with its head held high. Every day, it laid eggs, only for those hateful humans to steal them away. It knew everything, yet it gave everything.
But in the end, what did it get?
It was sold!
Yes, sold!
Sold to this household. It had been lively here yesterday, and it had eaten quite well. It had even laid two eggs that morning.
It had thought that by doing so, the human who bought it would be happy, would think more highly of it.
But it had never expected those hateful humans to start sharpening their knives at dawn. They did not even spare a glance at the two eggs it had laid. They grabbed it, slit its throat, and drained its blood.
Its blood was flowing away, and its chicken consciousness was fading.
This world was awful. It would not come back in its next life...
At last, it died.
How could Wang Yan possibly know what a chicken was thinking?
He only knew that premium ingredients often required only the simplest cooking methods.
Slitting its throat, draining the blood, plucking the feathers, removing the organs—after keeping busy for a while, Master Wang began making old hen soup...
Song Yunping was lured awake by the fragrance. After lying there awake for a while, recalling last night's madness and feeling the lingering pain in her body, she more or less adapted to the change in their relationship after