Kame House's New Guest

The fishing line floated on the calm surface for about twenty minutes without so much as a twitch. The sea breeze weakened, and the water grew even smoother. Occasionally, tiny ripples spread from the edge of nearby reefs, pushing the line to one side before letting it drift back into place. Krillin reeled in his line to check the shrimp bait on the hook. The shrimp had soaked pale in the water, but it was still hanging there. "There aren't many fish around here today." He cast the line back into the water. "We'll wait a little longer. If nothing happens, we'll head back."

Lin Chen reeled in his own line as well. The small shrimp on his hook had fallen off when he cast it, leaving only an empty hook dangling at the end of the line, swaying slightly in the air. He took another piece of shrimp from the cloth bag Krillin had brought, baited the hook, and cast it back into the water. This time, it landed roughly where it had the first time. He glanced at the spot and made no further adjustment.

About ten more minutes passed when the line in Krillin's hand suddenly went taut. He did not reel it in right away. First, he gave the line some slack, then began slowly pulling it back only after he felt the resistance lessen. The line traced a crooked path across the surface, and a bluish-gray fish emerged at the end. As it thrashed, it kicked up a splash that flashed in the sunlight before falling back into the water. Krillin removed the fish from the hook with one hand. It flicked its tail a few times in his grip, then went still.

"Dinner's taken care of." Krillin put the fish into the cloth bag and began reeling in his line. "If yours hasn't gotten a bite, forget it."

Lin Chen reeled in his line too. He moved slowly, winding the line around his wrist circle by circle. He looked at the hook's tip. The shrimp was still there.

By the time they headed back to Kame House, the sun hung low, stretching their shadows long and thin. Krillin walked ahead, and the fish in the cloth bag twitched occasionally, as if it had not quite died yet. Lin Chen followed behind, his steps pressing into the beach and leaving clear footprints. He noticed that his footsteps were lighter than when he had first arrived. Even on the soft sand, he did not leave deep impressions.

The scent of oil and chopped scallions drifted from Kame House's kitchen. Master Roshi stood by the stove, frying something in an iron wok as oil sizzled at the bottom. Without looking back, he said, "You caught fish? Put it in the bucket first and keep it alive. I'll deal with it after I finish this dish."

Krillin took the fish from the cloth bag and placed it in the bucket by the wall. It did not struggle when it entered the water. After sinking to the bottom, it stayed there quietly, its gills slowly opening and closing as if adapting to its new surroundings. The oil in the kitchen continued to sizzle, while the scorched fragrance of scallions mixed with the smoky scent of raw oil and drifted out through the open window, scattering toward the sea on the evening breeze. Lin Chen stood at the doorway and watched Master Roshi cook for a while. His spatula movements were small, and his wrist turned at a steady pace, as though he were repeating the same set of motions. He controlled the heat steadily, neither scorching the food nor letting the oil cool.

[Ding! Collected Cooking Skill Fragment ×2. Current Cooking Skill Proficiency: 5%.]

A brief warmth spread from his fingertips to his palm before quickly fading. He lowered his head to glance at his hand, then looked up again. Master Roshi was plating the food from the wok. He first gathered it together with the spatula, then flicked his wrist and tipped it neatly onto the edge of the plate without spilling any sauce, all in one smooth motion.

"Come carry the dishes," Master Roshi said.

Lin Chen entered the kitchen and picked up the plate. The oil along its rim gleamed faintly beneath the light, while tiny droplets rolled over the surface of the vegetables. As he turned and walked out of the kitchen, he heard Master Roshi crack an egg behind him. The eggshell struck the rim of a bowl with a crisp snap. He placed the dish on the small square table in the yard, where three sets of bowls and chopsticks had already been laid out.

"There's one more soup," Master Roshi said from the kitchen.

When Lin Chen entered the kitchen again, Master Roshi was pouring water into a pot already filled with sliced tofu and several pieces of kelp. He put on the lid and turned down the heat slightly. "How did you two train today?"

"We trained for more than an hour in the morning, then went fishing in the afternoon," Lin Chen said.

Master Roshi nodded and lifted the lid slightly to check the soup. "Krillin will cook the fish tonight. That kid's pretty good at cooking fish. After you settle in here, you can slowly learn some everyday skills. Martial arts isn't just about training your fists and feet. Eating and sleeping are part of the fundamentals too."

Without waiting for Lin Chen to answer, he put the lid back on and turned to chop scallions. The scallions on the cutting board were chopped fine and neat. Each fall of the blade made an even tap-tap sound, its rhythm like a ticking clock.

By the time the soup was brought to the table, the sky had shifted from pale gold to dark red. The wind had picked up a little, stirring the corners of the napkins on the table. Krillin brought out the prepared fish. It was covered with shredded ginger and drizzled with soy sauce, steam still rising from its surface. Goku came out of the house and sat down at the table. "Smells great."

He picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of fish, and chewed it. "It tastes better than lunch."

Master Roshi sat at the head of the table and poured himself a cup of wine. "Talk less while you eat. Eat first. Fish gets fishy when it goes cold."

The yard fell quiet, filled only with the clinking of bowls and chopsticks mingling with the sound of the waves. A bird occasionally flew past in the distance, its cry scattered by the wind as though it had come from very far away. Lin Chen picked up a piece of fish and placed it in his bowl. The skin was lightly crisp from frying, while the flesh remained moist. The flavor of the shredded ginger had seeped into the meat, leaving a faint spiciness on his tongue. After chewing and swallowing, he picked up a second piece.

The wind blew in from the sea, only to be blocked by the courtyard wall at the edge of the yard. It curled around the dining table before dispersing. The clouds overhead were thinning, revealing several stars gradually brightening, like lamp wicks being lit one by one.

After dinner, Lin Chen helped clear the bowls and chopsticks, stacking the bowls and carrying them back to the kitchen. Krillin stood by the sink, washing away grease and food scraps from the dishes. Water rushing over the rims of the bowls made a steady splashing sound. Lin Chen stood at the kitchen door and watched for a while, noticing that Krillin's dishwashing movements resembled the way he had cast his line that afternoon: fixed in rhythm, requiring no extra thought, as though he had done it countless times before. His gaze passed through the kitchen window and fell on the yard. The fish in the bucket had stopped moving. Only an extremely thin ring of ripples remained on the surface, slowly drawing together as if falling into rhythm with the entire sea.