Stretches of dark green seagrass swayed in the water. Yu Zhile stared at the translucent screen in the air, her eyes slightly unfocused as she scanned the comments.
“These? These are just seagrass. They aren’t edible; what we eat is seaweed,” she said, blinking as her gaze swept across the clumps of greenery. A bright orange, fan-shaped shell caught her eye.
“Its shape looks just like a fan, which is why it’s called a scallop,” Yu Zhile said, pulling away the seagrass covering it. The scallop was the size of her palm. “Garlic vermicelli scallops—absolutely delicious.”
After circling the area, she found a few more scallops of similar size. Seeing this, Zhang Caihong clenched her palms, forced a smile, and approached.
“Lele, the scallops you’re picking up are so big. Do you have a trick?” Her eyes darted around restlessly, scanning the surrounding area, but she couldn’t see so much as a single snail.
Yu Zhile gave a radiant smile. “It’s about having a good character, which leads to good luck.”
Zhang Caihong understood the subtext immediately and nearly ground her molars to dust.
“Yu Zhile, time to go home,” Zhou Yuesheng appeared suddenly. As he locked eyes with Zhang Caihong, her breath hitched. A cold-faced Zhou Yuesheng made no effort to hide his intimidating aura; he looked like a god of death.
“You even caught a barracuda?” The smile on Yu Zhile’s face became a bit more genuine.
Zhang Caihong felt another wave of bitterness. She waited until the two had turned to leave before letting her expression twist into a mask of fury.
“I’ll see you all in the cooking stream in a bit,” Yu Zhile said, bidding her audience farewell. By now, Zhou Yuesheng remained perfectly composed whenever she used her strange, modern terminology.
In the small courtyard, Yu Yue and Chen Zhao were reading while Yu Chi squatted in the corner, dazed. Zhou Yuesheng poured the seafood into a wooden basin and added salt to encourage them to purge sand. Meanwhile, Yu Zhile took out the sugar-pickled March plums and green plums from a few days ago.
The March plums had turned yellow, their skins slightly wrinkled, emitting a unique fermented tang that made one’s mouth water instantly. The pickled green plums were crisp and refreshing, their sweet and sour flavor perfectly thirst-quenching. Chen Zhao was like a bottomless pit, eating them one after another until Yu Zhile’s own teeth felt on edge just watching him.
“This really whets the appetite. I could eat three bowls of rice right now,” Chen Zhao said, crunching on another plum.
Yu Yue glanced at the nearly empty bowl and said, “Eat fewer of them; they’ll upset your stomach.” His words reminded Chen Zhao of a time back in the city when he had eaten so many preserved fruits he’d made himself sick, and the conversation drifted elsewhere.
When the time came, the livestream started punctually. Tonight, the Yu family was eating a mix of rice and grains. Yu Chi washed the rice, and Chen Zhao set it to steam. Zhou Yuesheng scaled and gutted the fish, cleaning it thoroughly before making several diagonal cuts across the back and handing it to Yu Zhile.
“Today we are making Chopped Chili Barracuda. First, the oil,” Yu Zhile said, circling the oil bottle over the clay pot several times. The generous amount made Chen Zhao click his tongue.
Once the oil was hot, she tossed in onion, ginger, and garlic to fry until fragrant. She layered bok choy at the bottom of the pot, then coiled the fish on one side and added side ingredients to the other. Opening the jar of chopped chili sauce, the rich, spicy aroma hit everyone’s senses, causing the viewers to gasp in excitement.
“One spoonful of soy sauce, one spoonful of chopped chili sauce. Pour half a bowl of water along the edge, cover the lid, and simmer on low heat for ten minutes.”
With Chen Zhao present, Yu Zhile didn’t look at the comments, explaining the steps in a focused, methodical manner.
The second dish was Garlic Vermicelli Scallops. The shells were scrubbed, pried open, and cleaned. Yu Zhile prepared the sauce while Chen Zhao was responsible for laying down the soaked sweet potato vermicelli and spreading the garlic sauce. By the time they were ready, the water was boiling, and the scallops were steamed for just a few minutes.
The final dish was Stir-fried Razor Clams and Moon Shells.
The high heat caused the savory aroma of the sauce to expand and meld with the air. Within a minute, the clam meat became firm, and the dish was ready. The barracuda was spicy and fresh, the stir-fried shellfish were tender and juicy, and the scallops were deliciously savory. The meal was a complete sensory success.
As night fell and candlelight flickered, Yu Zhile brewed a pot of hawthorn water. The courtyard drifted with a faint, natural fruit acidity. Everyone chatted idly, enjoying the cozy atmosphere.
On the other side of things, Zhang Caihong was far from happy. She had spent the whole day helping her sister-in-law with the kids, and her back was aching. She trudged toward the center of the village in the dark, rubbing her waist as she went.
That night, Yu Zhile checked her recent data. Her livestream was firmly at the top of the rankings, and her gifts could be converted into 2,000 Cloud Coins.
“Host, your data is outstanding. At this rate, winning first place won’t be an issue,” Xiao Yun said, pulling up the analytical charts.
However, the next morning, Yu Zhile received an official message from the Cloud Platform:
[Notice]: Host, the platform has received multiple reports suspecting your livestream of using prohibited items. During the next three broadcasts, a Platform Inspector will monitor your content. Please do not engage in any resistant behavior.
“Prohibited items?” Yu Zhile was baffled.
Xiao Yun appeared with a grave expression. “Host, someone suspects you of using unfair means to win the PK. They submitted ‘evidence’ of you using a new type of hallucinogen. The platform is currently investigating.”
“Oh,” Yu Zhile replied, not taking it to heart. With current technology, let alone a hallucinogen that could affect a digital stream, even basic deworming medicine wouldn’t be independently produced until the eighties.
After breakfast, Yu Zhile and Zhou Yuesheng borrowed a bullock cart to take Yu Wanqin to the town hospital. The results were unchanged: the patient was in a coma, her bodily functions were normal but gradually declining.
While Zhou Yuesheng stayed at the hospital for the glucose IV drip, Yu Zhile went to the Supply and Marketing Cooperative.
“Leni!” someone shouted. It was Yu Taohong, the old Mrs. Yu’s youngest daughter (no blood relation to Zhile). She looked at Yu Zhile with fury.
Yu Zhile gave her a single glance and kept walking.
“Leni! You little brat! Why are you running? Yu Peilan raised you wild—you don’t even recognize your own aunt!”
Yu Zhile left the coop and felt a “little tail” following her. She turned around to find the girl who had sold her flowers before. The girl looked grateful. “Thank you for buying my flowers last time. If not for you, my sister might not have made it. This is shrimp paste I made; please take it.” She thrust a bamboo basket into Yu Zhile’s hands and ran off.
By the time they returned to the village, it was noon. A group of people was gossiping under the large locust tree. As the cart passed, the voices drifted over:
“I heard Leni is practicing feudal superstition.”
“Who told you that? Educated people usually hate that stuff.”
“Haiyao’s mother said it! She was crying at her door, saying Leni sucked away the Yu family’s good fortune.”
“Do you remember the last time we went tide-pooling at the West Side? Nobody found a thing. My mother knows a witch who was taken by the spirits for ‘luck-swapping’…”
Zhang Caihong lowered her head and whispered to the crowd, “I heard from classmates… it really does look like ‘borrowed luck.’ But Leni’s luck is so good, it’s like she didn’t just borrow from one family, but…” She looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes. The villagers’ expressions shifted as they thought of the “eerie” nature of the Xiaoxi Sea.
Yu Zhile caught fragments of the conversation. She knew Zhang Caihong had fallen into the trap.
“Don’t take it to heart,” Zhou Yuesheng said, his sensitive hearing having caught every word.
Yu Zhile teased, “The little steward knows how to comfort people now.” Zhou Yuesheng fell silent. He had forgotten how resilient she was when she was “normal.”
Suddenly, a voice rang out ahead: “Don’t follow me! I don’t want your dirty money!”
Yu Zhile looked up to see Zhang Wenxin brushing off the hand of a neat, elderly woman. The old woman was trying to press money into her hand. “Nannan, take the money.”
“Aren’t you annoying?” Zhang Wenxin snapped, pushing the old woman back so hard she nearly fell. “I will never take money from a landlord’s wife! Your money is the blood and flesh of our peasant brothers!”
The old woman looked devastated. Yu Zhile knew this woman was Zhang Wenxin’s grandmother, who had been a concubine to a landlord before the liberation.
Back at the house, after Chen Zhao took Yu Wanqin inside, Zhang Wenxin approached with her plan. “You’re back! Look at the plan I wrote.”
Yu Zhile didn’t take it. “Why do you treat your family like that?”
“You… you saw?” Zhang Wenxin froze.
“She was part of the landlord class that oppressed people,” Zhang Wenxin explained urgently. “She’s good at playing the victim. Don’t be fooled by her.”
“Leave. I won’t participate in any of your plans,” Yu Zhile said.
Zhang Wenxin reacted violently. “Why? Do you know how meaningful this is? She isn’t worth it!”
Regardless of her outburst, Yu Zhile remained expressionless.
“Yu Zhile, you have a hero grandmother like Nianci; you have no idea how much I suffer,” Zhang Wenxin threw down the words and turned away in a rage.
Zhou Yuesheng witnessed the scene and gave Yu Zhile a deep, questioning look. He knew she had set a trap and that Zhang Wenxin was a key part of it. Now that rumors were flying, she knew this was the worst time to offend Wenxin—yet she had pushed her away for the sake of a stranger.
He wondered how she intended to handle the trap she had built with her own hands.