Day Thirty-Nine: The Deserted Island Gourmet Festival (Part One) Still seeking your recommendations and support...

“Huff, huff…” I’d long since lost count of how many times I’d run back and forth. It was nearly noon now, and this enormous sack was the last one. Exhaustion threatened to flatten me, yet inside I was still brimming with excitement.

All this grain, neatly stacked in the upper treehouse, was far from the ground—safe from damp and insects—making it the perfect place to store food. Of course, the sheer volume of it now claimed more than half of my living space up here.

“Phew.” After setting the last sack in place, I let myself collapse onto the floor and finally rested. If I didn’t take a break, I’d probably pass out…

When I awoke, I felt much better. To my surprise, Little Black had curled up beside me, snoring away. This creature could really sleep.

But I didn’t have time to waste; a mountain of tasks awaited me. For now, I needed a comfortable place to sleep, so dealing with the bedding was my top priority. I had no idea what those blankets had been through, or who had used them before, so I needed to clean them.

It didn’t take long to strip the cases off several quilts. The cotton filling didn’t need washing. I tied a long vine between two sturdy trees to serve as a makeshift clothesline.

Sunlight poured through the gap between the trees, bathing the bedding in its warmth. As for the covers, I’d have to wash them at the river.

Thank goodness for this little river—it provided a steady supply of precious fresh water. When the skies were clear, the current was slow, the water shallow and crystal clear. After rain, it turned a little muddy, ran faster, and could reach above my calves.

After nearly an hour of scrubbing—despite having no detergent—I managed to get the four quilt covers as clean as possible. Back in the treehouse, I wrung out as much water as I could, then grabbed each cover by two corners and snapped it in the air to shake out the wrinkles.

“With a better standard of living, life must be lived with a little more finesse,” I joked to myself.

The sun was glorious today; with this warmth, the covers would dry in an afternoon. I could already imagine myself lying that night in fresh bedding, breathing in that unique fragrance left by the sun.

There was still so much to do, I was nearly dizzy from it all, unsure where to start.

But the gnawing emptiness in my stomach forced me to admit the irresistible allure of all this food. Oh well—first things first, I’d better eat!

In the past, I never agonized over what to eat. Now, I found myself hesitating, debating. In the end, I chose rice! That deep-seated love since childhood, the companion of my every meal—I simply couldn’t resist.

I had a pot, and the large water barrel I’d brought back from the ship’s galley was filled to the brim. Lifting the lid, I rinsed the rice twice with the fresh water and set the pot over the fire.

The flames burned strong, and soon the water boiled. The rich, familiar aroma of rice soup filled the air. I flared my nostrils, breathing in hungrily, unwilling to waste even a moment of this joy.

Since the day I came ashore, I’d missed this more than anything.

The lid clattered as steam pressed against it; wisps of heat curled out from under the rim. Before long, the beloved scent of cooked rice spread through the air. My throat bobbed, and my mouth watered uncontrollably.

I certainly knew how to cook rice. Back in civilization, I’d always preferred using a pressure cooker. The principle was the same: once the slightest hint of a toasty aroma emerged from the pot, it was time to kill the fire and let the rice rest, absorbing the remaining moisture. Only then would the texture be perfect!

At last, the toasty scent drifted from the pot. This was a massive vessel, meant to feed the whole crew, so my rice only formed a thin layer at the bottom.

That aroma was never lost on Little Black’s keen nose. At some point, he’d materialized at my feet, as if afraid I’d shortchange him on food.

After letting the rice rest and cool, it was finally ready to eat. When I lifted the lid, I was nearly breathless with happiness; my hands trembled as I reached for the spoon.

Little Black, too, was eager—his gaze fixed hungrily on the steaming rice in my hand.

I felt a pang, but still scooped out a bowlful for him first.

He sniffed at it, but to my surprise, after a moment, he turned away.

I was already under its spell. I didn’t even bother with chopsticks, scooping up a spoonful and shoving it into my mouth.

The soft texture, the familiar flavor, and the subtle sweetness left behind after swallowing swept me back to memories of years gone by.

If someone had once offered me a bowl of plain rice and asked if I’d eat it, I’d have cursed them. But now, I couldn’t stop at just a taste. Soon, I’d devoured the entire pot, scraping up even the crispy bits stuck to the sides.

“Food fit for the gods—what more could one ask?” I couldn’t help but sigh in satisfaction.

But Little Black wouldn’t touch the rice, which worried me a little.

Then inspiration struck—a way to avoid wasting food, worth a try.

Fried rice! Fried rice with sea turtle eggs!

Yes, I’d just spotted some oil in a corner—the same I’d hauled from the ship’s pantry yesterday.

Sea turtle eggs were easy to find; I quickly gathered a pile and hurried back to the little treehouse.

Though it was my first attempt at making fried rice with turtle eggs, it didn’t seem difficult. I heated the pot over the fire until it was sizzling, poured in enough oil to coat the bottom, and then dumped in the rice Little Black had refused.

My spatula danced through the rice, tossing and stirring until it glistened.

When the rice was smooth and glossy, I cracked twenty turtle eggs into a bowl, whipped them with chopsticks, and poured them all into the pot at once.

The pan sizzled and popped, releasing a heady aroma. The turtle eggs didn’t set very firmly, but it hardly mattered. A dash of sesame oil made the fried rice shimmer enticingly.

I took a taste—“Mmm!”—even I hadn’t expected it to be this delicious! Not dry, not greasy, smooth and silky, with the turtle eggs infusing the rice with an incredible fragrance.

Once more, I set the steaming bowl before Little Black.

One minute.

It took him just one minute to finish it all.