He stayed in the village for seven days.
The blacksmith's bellows in the village leaked air; the leather had aged. Su Li spent an afternoon replacing the leather bag and adjusting the valves for him. The blacksmith was a young man in his thirties. His skill was mediocre, but his attitude was earnest.
On the sixth day, a child of eight or nine came to the smithy to watch the excitement. Su Li had him pull the bellows, then put a hammer in his hand and taught him how to forge the most ordinary iron nail.
The child struck it seven times. The first six were either crooked or cracked. The seventh barely took shape.
"Good enough." Su Li picked the nail up from the anvil and examined it. "A nail that can hold something in place is a good nail."
The child ran off with a grin, clutching that crooked, misshapen nail in his hand.
Early on the seventh day, Su Li left Wading Village.
Royal Wilderness.
He repaired the kitchen stove. The flue was clogged, and it took half the day to clear before smoke finally came through.
The pot was old, dug out from the Space Ring. The cured meat was old too; he did not know how many years it had been stored. In the time-stopped space, it remained as fresh as the day it had been cured.
The bone broth simmered for two hours. The cured meat was sliced and fried through. He had caught the fish that morning in the little stream outside the courtyard, coated it in a thin batter, and dropped it into the pan. The salt-tolerant greens were the last batch in the crate; he blanched them in clear water, then tossed them with a little salt and vinegar.
Four