Wandering Gods of Day and Night-Chapter 42 - 39 Fish Sashimi
42: Chapter 39 Fish Sashimi
42 -39 Fish Sashimi
The water in the pot gurgled as though boiling, and it wasn’t until the water vapor turned entirely to ashes that Yuan Buyu put down the copper kettle with force and went over to the bed.
The bed was a four-legged wrought iron one, with space beneath it, and tucked underneath were two pear wood boxes painted in red lacquer.
One box contained seasonal clothes, the other ancient manuscripts and drafts—it was all of Yuan Buyu’s worldly possessions.
Dust hadn’t gathered thickly on the manuscript box.
Yuan Buyu blew away the light dust and opened the latch.
The ancient books inside were all about the spiritual, and the manuscripts were all handwritten copies with titles written by Yuan Buyu—his handwriting, like his drawings, was crooked and hard to recognize.
The titles of the copies were almost all related to the Blood Well, such as “Investigation on the Tracking of Blood Well Spirit Communicators in Folklore,” “Oral Narratives by Families of the Deceased from Blood Well Dreams,” and so on.
The content of these copies was of little value, but even so, Yuan Buyu still memorized every written draft without missing a single word.
He shifted the copies one by one, picking up the one at the very bottom.
This one had no title on its cover and was made of Dao Lin paper—regarded by many printing houses as a high-quality product, with a smooth surface that rarely aged or cracked even after many years.
Yuan Buyu’s expression grew solemn as he flipped through the copy, each page filled with drawings.
The drawing on the first page was haphazardly drawn in pencil, resembling a yarn ball that had been scattered and then carelessly squished together—nothing seemed off from a distance, but upon closer inspection, one could sense a strong emotion from within these lines—anger.
The second page was drawn with a steel pen, the force behind each stroke so intense that it left deep grooves in the dense Dao Lin paper, reflecting the artist’s irritability while drawing.
The content depicted a rabbit without eyes or nostrils…
its three shiny eye sockets made one’s skin crawl at a glance.
Yuan Buyu slowly turned the pages until he reached the last drawing.
This drawing was better described not as a drawing but as a sentence outlined by many chaotic lines—”Master, I want to eat you!”
“Hehe, little Guo Er, the madness at the end of your life was not as fierce as little Xuan’s initial spiritual awakening,” Yuan Buyu said, sitting in place with a bitter smile.
As he kept smiling, the sound and appearance of Guo Er gradually became clear before his eyes.
Suddenly bowing his head, he covered his face with his sleeve.
Seconds later, tears began to fall as if years had passed.
…
The twilight’s orange glow was soft, and the Zhou Family’s Troupe’s stray cats, too, coveted this leisure, lazily lying on the rooftop tiles, lost in thought.
The tables for the banquet to calm the spirits in the courtyard were neatly arranged.
Even though not all the four cold dishes were served yet, the men from the troupe had already started drinking and throwing punches.
In the inner courtyard, three tables were also set, but only two were occupied, with the five brothers and their families, Zhou Lingyi and Zhou Xuan seated at the main accompanying seats of the two tables.
Except for Yu Jia who was still busy at the newspaper office, everyone else had arrived.
“Fourth brother is busy with something and sent his pupil with a message to let us not wait for him; we should start eating.”
Once Zhou Lingyi spoke, everyone began to use their chopsticks to eat the cold dishes.
As time passed, the hot stir-fries were brought up one after another.
The dishes at the banquet were based on a Huaiyang cuisine menu proposed by Zhou Xuan.
He had discussed the key points of each dish with Yuan Buyu in advance, but realistically it was hard to precisely replicate the dishes merely based on descriptions, especially since Yuan Buyu had little experience in eating or making similar dishes.
The Huaiyang cuisine produced by Lao Yuan lacked the exquisite quality found in fine restaurants, but fortunately, the characteristics of being light and slightly sweet with a mild flavor were brought out, and everyone enjoyed eating without stopping their chopsticks.
In addition to Zhou Xuan’s taught dishes, there was also an additional dish of raw fish.
This raw fish was made in an odd way—a carp was cut open, its guts removed and soaked in yellow wine with spring onions, crushed garlic, and ginger slices added; the fish’s mouth could still move slightly.
“Is this raw fish, or is the fish still alive?”
Zhou Xuan stared at the raw fish, falling into contemplation.
Onions, garlic, and ginger were used to remove the fishy taste, but it seemed a bit redundant when used on this raw fish.
“Oh, the server brought it to the wrong table.”
Xu Li stood up to apologize to everyone, rolled up her sleeves, and carried the raw fish to the third table.
The dishes at this table were no different from the other two.
Zhou Xuan, returning to his seat, asked Xu Li, “Sister-in-law, for whom is the food at that table reserved?”
“Shh, don’t startle them,” Xu Li first signaled with her eyes, pointing to the ground, then whispered, “We are the Netherworld Play Troupe; we have our traditions.
Each time we hold a feast, we always leave one table for them.”
“Them?” Zhou Xuan suddenly realized.
Oh, so that’s it, no wonder the raw fish doesn’t look fit for human consumption.
“Junior brother, yesterday you saved our troupe from a disaster, Big Brother respects you.”
Yu Zhengyuan raised his cup, gestured toward Zhou Xuan who had already stood up, and drained it in one go, as did Zhou Xuan with his own cup of yellow wine.
After three rounds of drinks, the atmosphere at the table warmed up, and the conversation topics varied wildly.
Li Shuangyi was obsessed with opera, always talking about how to sing it, so everyone laughed: “Third Brother, can’t you stop talking about opera for just one moment?!”
“Exactly, haven’t you chatted enough with your disciples?
We should be more ambitious, discuss people’s livelihoods—you all don’t know, recently Hidden Dragon Mountain has suffered a disaster, the place had heavy rain, flash floods, and it washed away the villages in the mountains…”
Yu Zhengyuan was passionately talking, but everyone else found it tiresome, preferring to talk about opera instead.
Xu Li interjected persuasively, “Lao Yu, don’t ruin the good mood when we’re drinking happily, donate money if you want, or lend a hand…”
“Why does Big Brother love to talk about disasters so much?” Zhou Xuan asked.
“Your Big Brother has read too much of all sorts of books, he cares for the country and the people more than those officials in the government, he even writes poetry.
The poetry he writes, I shake my head when I hear it.” Xu Li found it exasperating.
Yu Zhengyuan, hearing Xu Li and Zhou Xuan talking about poetry, thought they were praising him.
Overcome with poetic inspiration, he leaned in and insisted on reciting a poem.
“Xiao Xuan, Big Brother will recite a poem for you, to open your eyes.”
Zhou Xuan had no choice but to let him recite.
Yu Zhengyuan made a fist salute, humbly said, “This will be embarrassing!”
“The Zhou Family’s Troupe morning blank with white, big trees, small trees like maidens fair, reach out to touch them gently, touch here, touch there, busy yet nothing there.”
“Ah?”
Zhou Xuan truly felt enlightened—so this is how poetry is written?!
“Xiao Xuan, what do you think of Big Brother’s poem?”
“Like the man himself, it’s primarily honest…
when you say it’s embarrassing, you mean it, no fluff at all!”
Yu Zhengyuan: “…” frёewebnoѵēl.com
Yu Zhengyuan and Li Shuangyi were experts at spoiling the mood, but the person who really livened up the banquet was Second Master’s Wife, Song Jie.
She swayed her hefty hips, toasting person by person, her voice was mellifluous and soft, her expression coquettish.
After a round of toasts, Second Master Zheng Jiujang’s face turned green with envy, especially when he noticed Zhou Xuan glancing at Song Jie’s bottom, his face turned even greener.
Zhou Xuan’s Perception had strengthened a lot after becoming spiritual.
He sensed someone watching him, turned his head, and saw an emerald green Zheng Jiujang, managing an awkward smile.
Zheng Jiujang and the original owner of the body had a feud, plus he seldom showed his face in the Zhou Family’s yard because he handled purchasing, so Zhou Xuan wasn’t familiar with him.
“Second Brother, let’s not bother with superfluous words, it’s all in the drink.”
“Hmph.” Zheng Jiujang downed his drink, still feeling sullen.
Song Jie didn’t care about Zheng Jiujang’s mood, but instead sat down at Zhou Xuan’s table and began talking about her company.
“Wow, our company recently got a new director, wants to shoot an art film, every actress is thinking about getting in there to touch…”
“Were you touched too?” Xu Li asked concernedly.
“Eh, he did want to touch, but I’m not that easy to get.
However, despite the director being a pervert, the man is quite talented, and the screenwriter he brought with him, the script they wrote—I read it, it’s a piece made by cultured people, I cried all night after reading it, and I still haven’t moved on from the plot.”
Song Jie didn’t participate in the daily management of the Zhou Family’s Troupe; she was a film actress.
Although not a big star, film was still a novelty to Ping Shui Prefecture, and the Zhou Family’s Troupe, always surrounded by opera and funerals, was even more intrigued by film.
Everyone listened to Song Jie speak, but Zhou Xuan wasn’t interested, having heard too many of the film industry’s backbiting and unspoken rules, so he left his seat and went to sit on a stone stool by the courtyard gate to smoke.
He had just lit the cigarette when Zhou Lingyi’s voice floated over.
“Brother, you have something on your mind?”
“Just a little.”
Zhou Xuan looked down, exhaled a puff of smoke, and said to Zhou Lingyi, “Sister, I want to burn incense and become a Divine Person…”
