On the way back carrying the fishing box, Amy stopped by Leslie’s place to register her mailbox address.
“You said Ryan made you a mailbox? Oh, that’s really thoughtful.” Leslie typed something into the computer, tapped on the keyboard, then turned and smiled at Amy. “Amy, your address has been successfully entered into the mailing system. From now on, you’ll be able to receive all kinds of mail smoothly.”
“Thank you, Leslie.”
“You’re welcome, Amy. Be careful on your way!”
Leaving Leslie’s house, Amy passed by Linda’s home.
Linda, wearing reading glasses and holding garden shears, was trimming a lush hydrangea bush in her yard. The shears clicked through the branches with a “snip-snap” sound.
They noticed each other. Linda smiled and waved. Amy walked over to greet her. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Linda.”
“Good afternoon, dear Amy!” Linda set the shears aside and glanced at the fishing box in Amy’s hand. “Dear, did you go fishing?”
“Yes. This was my first time fishing in Hot Spring Town, and it felt pretty good. With Nancy’s guidance, everything went smoothly.”
Linda sighed. “Nancy is such a kind girl. Don’t let her quiet, sometimes cold appearance fool you. Beneath that aloof exterior, she has a warm heart.”
Amy nodded in full agreement.
From her few interactions, Amy had seen it too. The first time she met Nancy, she had been intimidated by her icy demeanor, but it turned out Nancy was a complete angel.
“Can I see the fish you caught?” Linda suddenly asked, her eyes filled with expectation.
“Of course. But they’re not big fish, Mrs. Linda. You might be disappointed.”
Linda clearly disagreed. “How could I be disappointed? The fact that you caught fish at all is wonderful.”
Amy opened the fishing box.
“Oh, a bass! Look how fresh it is!” Linda’s chatter came alive at the sight of the fish. “Bass is such a delicious kind of fish, with so many ways to cook it—Thai-style sweet and sour bass, Mediterranean-style bass… If you find those recipes too troublesome, there’s always the simple way: just rub it with salt and butter, pop it into the oven, and bake it. It will be delicious either way.”
Amy wasn’t unfamiliar with Thai-style sweet and sour bass. She had made it at home before—lemon juice mixed with diced tomatoes, green and red peppers, and fish sauce, steamed together with the bass. The result was tender, sweet flesh, carrying the fresh aroma of lemon and the rich, spicy flavor—delicious and exotic.
As for Mediterranean-style bass, though she had never made it herself, she roughly knew the method: simmering cherry tomatoes, onions, and garlic into a broth to stew fried fish fillets, then finishing with parsley, black pepper, and lemon slices.
Just thinking about it made her mouth water.
Unfortunately, Amy had none of the required ingredients. She didn’t even have an oven, which was essential for Linda’s simplest baked-bass recipe.
A depressing fact.
Amy sighed in her heart but smiled on her face. “Mrs. Linda, you really know a lot about cooking.”
Linda chuckled. “I’m only good at seafood dishes. For anything else, I can only make simple pasta. I’m nothing compared to a chef like Gabriel.”
Amy grew curious. “Why only seafood dishes?”
The fishing box, with fish and water, was getting heavy in her hand. Since this conversation seemed like it would last, she set it down on the ground.
“You see, when my husband was young, he was a sailor. We had no children, and lots of free time. His greatest hobby was fishing. Each time he returned from the sea, he brought me seafood—squid, lobsters, all kinds of fish. My cooking wasn’t very good, but cooking seafood in different ways every day made me gradually better—though only with seafood.”
This was the first time Amy heard Mrs. Linda mention her husband. Leslie had said she lived alone with Morgan in Hot Spring Town.
Amy had already guessed what happened.
Linda’s next words confirmed it. “Nine years ago, my husband passed away. He no longer brought seafood back to me, but I still remember all those recipes.” Her eyes showed no grief, only a wistful kind of remembrance.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Linda,” Amy whispered.
“It’s alright, dear. You don’t need to feel sorry. Who can escape life and death? Those are old stories, and I no longer grieve.” Linda smiled. “Actually, I’m the one who should apologize. Today was your first fishing trip in Hot Spring Town, and you even caught such a big bass. You must have been so happy, but I’ve dampened your mood with my old tales. I’m sorry.”
“No, not at all!” Amy quickly denied it. “Mrs. Linda, I was very happy to talk with you, especially since you told me so many ways to cook bass. I’m really grateful.”
“If you’re interested in cooking, you can come to me anytime. I’ll teach you how to make seafood.”
Amy agreed.
“Good child. While the fish in the box is still fresh, hurry home and eat it.”
“Alright. Goodbye, Mrs. Linda.” Amy walked a few steps, then turned back and waved. “Say hi to Morgan for me.”
Linda smiled. “I will. Morgan will be so happy.”
Back at the farm, Amy couldn’t help but recall her conversation with Mrs. Linda.
She thought of the vast ocean, the rolling waves, the ships, the sailors in uniform, and the wives waiting for them at home.
She also thought of Andrew, with his complicated family ties and ever-serious face, and Clara, proud and aloof, yet secretly working at the Seagull Restaurant.
Everyone had a hidden side. Everyone was a distinct individual—they were no longer NPCs built out of data.
Amy understood this now more than ever.
Splash—
The sound of a fish tail striking water pulled Amy back from her drifting thoughts. She looked down. Yes… the bass in the fishing box was still lively.
She already knew how she would cook it.
She didn’t have expensive ingredients like onions and parsley, nor tools like an oven. All she had was a simple pot.
With a pot and oil, fried fish strips were the best choice—simple and convenient.
Step one: prepare the fish.
Amy gripped the knife and struck the bass’s head with the back of the blade.
She cut off the head, sliced the body into sections, coated them with flour, dipped them into a mix of egg, salt, and black pepper, then dropped them into the hot oil until golden.
The aroma slowly filled the house.
Amy scooped the fried strips from the oil and inhaled deeply—so fragrant!
After days of eating lettuce, these fried fish strips were heaven’s gift.
Fresh from the pan, the strips were golden and crispy, steaming hot. Amy couldn’t wait. She picked one up even though it was burning hot.
One bite—the crisp, airy coating cracked with a soft crunch, followed by tender, juicy fish. Snow-white flesh, its flavor intensified by the frying, smooth and succulent.
The contrast of crisp outside and tender inside was perfect.
【You have unlocked Recipe: “Fried Fish Strips”】
By the time Amy realized it, three strips had already disappeared into her stomach.
She poured a little malt vinegar from the general store onto the rest. The tangy-sweet flavor made them even more delicious.
When only three strips remained, Amy forced herself to stop. She needed to save some for breakfast tomorrow.
After her satisfying dinner, Amy tended to some farm chores, then drifted into dreams with thoughts of food.
The next day, she woke earlier than usual, washed up quickly, and took her watering can to the fields.
It was the seventh day of spring, and her second batch of lettuce had matured, its broad leaves glistening on the ground.
Even after the delight of fried fish, the sight of ripe lettuce still filled Amy with joy.
Nothing made a farmer happier than a harvest. Amy happily cut the lettuce and filled her basket.
She was about to take it inside when she noticed something in the mailbox by the gate.
…She had only registered her address with Leslie yesterday. Could someone already be sending her mail today?
Who could it be?
Amy opened the mailbox.
Inside was a letter, and a box that felt warm to the touch.
In an instant, countless wild thoughts ran through Amy’s mind: maybe some Bureau of Reality and Virtuality Management (if such an organization existed) had discovered her crossing and wanted to drag her back to work; or maybe a terrorist group was threatening her to wire them money; or perhaps some anonymous sender was informing her that this used to be a graveyard…
Amy laughed at her own absurd ideas, shook her head, and opened the envelope. The signature at the bottom said “Ryan.”
Ryan had written her a letter?
Amy unfolded it.
“Dear Amy: Good morning! I don’t know when you’ll see this letter—my guess is morning, and probably a very early morning, since you’re such a hardworking person. The thing is, I don’t have any special reason for writing, I just wanted to thank you for giving me so much maple syrup. It was so, so, so, so delicious! To repay you, I fried some French fries. I hope you like them! PS: I hope they’re still hot when they reach you.”
Amy closed the letter, her heart warm. Then she realized—the warm box she’d been holding all along was fries.
She had thought it was some body part mailed by a terrorist group.
Funny enough, Ryan’s fries and her fried fish from last night were a perfect match—and funnier still, neither of them knew the other was making fish or fries.
This must be what people called “friendship’s tacit understanding.”
Amy carried the warm fries back to her cottage.
Her breakfast now consisted of lettuce salad, fried fish strips, and fries.
The twice-fried fish strips were even crispier, paired with the soft-crisp fries and refreshing salad—together forming a perfect meal.
【You have unlocked Recipe: “French Fries”】
After filling her stomach, Amy prepared to head to the beach again. She slung her fishing rod over her shoulder, packed the bait, and set out.
In front of Nancy’s cabin, people bustled—some buying bait, some buying chicks, others buying eggs. Just watching from outside made Amy feel how busy Nancy must be.
She wondered how Nancy managed all of it alone.
With things so hectic, Amy didn’t have the heart to ask Nancy to accompany her fishing. She sat alone on the sand, took out her fiberglass rod and bait, and got started.
Three hours later, she had caught seven fish.
She stayed in the shallow waters again, so the fish were almost the same kinds as before, differing only in size and color. Still, she unlocked a new entry in the fish encyclopedia: cod.
Compared to Nancy’s beautiful pollock, Amy’s cod was pitifully small.
The seven fish sold for a total of 378 gold. Adding to the 200-plus from yesterday, she now had about 600 gold. For Amy, this was a considerable sum.
After days of hard work, Amy decided to reward herself by doing something she had wanted for a long time but never had the chance—
Go to the Seagull Restaurant for a big meal.