Before finding a truly suitable spot, Yan Qing didn’t plan on cooking any elaborate meals. Tonight, she decided to make a simple tomato and egg noodle dish.
She heated some oil in a pot, added chopped scallions, then the tomatoes, stirring until soft. A splash of soy sauce and a pinch of salt, then water to boil. Once it boiled, she added the noodles. After cooking, she sprinkled in a little chicken bouillon and more scallions.
Yan Qing never imagined that a simple bowl of tomato and egg noodles could bring such a sense of happiness. She thought, if she had been transported here without her space, what would have awaited her?
After finishing, she looked at the clear pool of water nearby and felt curious to taste it. She poured a cup and sipped—refreshing, sweet, with a lingering aftertaste. Could this be mineral-rich groundwater?
It tasted far better than the bottled water she had bought. She didn’t drink too much of it raw, though.
Yan Qing brought out her kettle and boiled some water over the fire, letting it cool. Meanwhile, she washed all her space-stored bottles and filled them with the freshly boiled water.
By the time she finished, it was already past eleven. She moved the fire closer to the cave entrance and added more branches.
Pulling the tent closed, she woke a few times during the night to check her surroundings and replenish branches. Everything seemed normal.
As dawn approached, she added a few more branches, then fell asleep again.
The night passed peacefully.
She awoke around nine, but the sky outside was gloomy—rain seemed imminent.
Not wanting to waste time, she ate a quick breakfast and headed outside. She planned to cut as many dry trees as possible, regardless of the rain, since while she had coal, she preferred using the abundant wood instead.
Swish, swish, bang, bang!
Yan Qing chopped through a tree—not very large—along with several others nearby. She planned to drag them to the cave entrance and split them slowly. The sky darkened, the wind picking up—a bad sign, likely a heavy rain approaching.
Even so, she calculated that with these branches, she had enough for two or three days. If necessary, she could ration them during the day.
Just as she dragged the trees to the cave, the wind gusted fiercely. Yan Qing quickly used her chainsaw to cut them into smaller pieces, hoping the noise would scare away any animals that might panic in the approaching storm.
Then the rain fell—suddenly, heavily. Visibility dropped quickly.
Checking the cave entrance, she was relieved that no water had seeped in, and returned to continue chopping. Eventually, hunger forced her to stop.
She washed her hands and decided to prepare lunch.
She pulled out some chili peppers, washed and julienned them. Then a piece of tenderloin, sliced thin, and marinated it with soy sauce, dark soy, oyster sauce, and starch.
Heating oil in a pan, she stir-fried the meat until it changed color, then removed it. In the remaining oil, she added scallion, ginger, garlic, and the chili, stir-frying briefly. The meat went back in, with salt, a touch of sugar, and chicken bouillon. Stir-fried until fully infused.
From her space, she took out a steaming steamed bun, split it, and stuffed it with the chili pork. One bite—spicy, savory, and fragrant.
She devoured two buns in one go.
After lunch, she sat by the fire and took out her tea set. Pouring herself a pot of green tea, she watched the rain outside.
The experience was uniquely satisfying. Perhaps it was the pool water she had used—the tea carried a subtle, lingering sweetness she hadn’t noticed before.
It was peaceful. It was simple. It was perfect.