Chapter 99: Field Training – The Flavor Of Steamed Fish
Xiang Chuan opened the pot lid, and a burst of fragrant steam wafted out from the pot, carrying the familiar fish scent and scallion ginger aroma she knew, mixed with the stimulating pepper fragrance that whetted everyone’s appetite, making the group unconsciously swallow their saliva. Even Chou Manman, who had been skeptical all along, couldn’t help but want to taste it. Xiang Chuan herself, the person involved, was the calmest. She unhurriedly took out heat-resistant gloves from her pocket, removed the scalding meal box from the pot, thought for a moment, and sprinkled some minced garlic on top. This simple version of steamed fish was now complete. She opened her terminal to check—it was just past ten, not yet noon. Was eating now too early…
As she thought this, just as she was about to put the pot lid back on, a chorus of disappointed “Aww~~??” sounds rose around her, freezing her movements in place. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was this group from Class Eight—timid at the sight of ingredients but striking at lightning speed for the dish—who were eyeing the steamed fish covetously.
“Xiang Chuan, Xiang Chuan,” Chou Manman rushed over eagerly, the fish scent growing stronger, nearly making her lose control of her saliva. “The fish is done—why not eat it right away?”
“It’s not even eleven yet. If we eat now, what will I have for lunch later?” Xiang Chuan eyed her warily. She’d heard Chou Manman’s tone plenty over the past few days and knew what she meant: Xiang Chuan! Hungry! Food! But Xiang Chuan hadn’t even eaten yet herself.
“There’s still stuff in the meal boxes later. You just made it—we can taste it for you first.” Chou Manman blinked her eyes. If not for the drool at the corner of her mouth, Xiang Chuan might have been fooled by her increasingly skilled acting.
“Be honest.” Xiang Chuan crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at her.
Knowing Xiang Chuan had seen through her intentions, Chou Manman grew bold instead. She declared loudly, “I want to eat fish! Xiang Chuan, let’s eat now!”
Full of vigor! Good! So spirited! Xiang Chuan praised inwardly. She glanced around the camp—about ten classmates there all had the same idea in their eyes, brimming with eagerness. Xiang Chuan sighed: this fish probably wouldn’t last until noon.
When she opened the lid again, cheers erupted in the camp, startling the two classes by the riverside: What were those weirdos from Class Eight doing now?
Excited Chou Manman pulled the somewhat embarrassed Liang Gong along and skillfully disassembled and reassembled Xiang Chuan’s emptied meal boxes from yesterday into square small bowls, piling them in front of Xiang Chuan—seven or eight stacked up. Xiang Chuan looked up at the crowd and said, “There aren’t enough bowls. Later, girls share with girls, boys with boys. If you can’t accept sharing, wipe them clean before using. Of course, if you brought your own bowls, that’s best. Also, I don’t have enough tableware here—bring your own if you’re picky.”
No sooner had she spoken than the students rushed back to their tents to rummage for portable tableware and foldable bowls originally used for cutting solid food. Modern people’s germophobia was on full display. Chou Manman and Liang Gong, who had grown accustomed over the week to sharing tableware with Xiang Chuan and others, were naturally exceptions.
Two minutes later, everyone gathered around Xiang Chuan with bowls of various shapes, the scene like 21st century high school students lining up for cafeteria food.
…Not much difference, really?
Her own group got priority, of course. Xiang Chuan first picked up an empty bowl nearby, used serving chopsticks to take a piece of fish belly, poked through the fish skin with her chopsticks to reveal the white, tender fish, leaving even Class Eight students—who had seen chicken and beef just last week—amazed. Under the skin of this wild grass carp’s belly, transparent fat was even visible, delighting Xiang Chuan. She served Chou Manman a large piece, then gave Liang Gong the same treatment. The third portion of fish belly was naturally for herself.
After serving her group, it was the other classmates’ turn. With others not back yet, Xiang Chuan portioned out larger pieces of fish with the serving chopsticks. Luckily, the grass carp was plump enough—after giving everyone a big piece, excluding the fish head and tail, about half remained.
“Be careful when eating—river fish have lots of bones. Don’t swallow it whole, or a bone stuck in your throat means a trip to the hospital.” Xiang Chuan, sucking on her fruit milk bottle’s straw after finishing, warned them. At the mention of hospital, everyone sobered up instantly—though the drool at their mouths made them look anything but serious.
The first to bravely take a bite was still Chou Manman.
She bit into the edge of the fish, the tender fish fillet breaking easily. Fish, skin, and the oil in between slid into her mouth together. An unprecedented fresh fragrance hit her brain. Incredibly, there was no trace of the nauseating fishy smell from before—instead, it was aromatic, tender, and slippery perfection. The well-seasoned salt carried the stimulating pepper flavor, making her take a second bite, a third… Luckily, the belly had fewer bones, or her speed would surely have gotten her stuck.
Seeing Chou Manman devour it so ravenously, the others let go and started eating too. Xiang Chuan wondered if it was because modern river fish had undergone gene modification—no one was spitting out bones? Could some biologist scarred by a childhood fish bone incident have secretly altered the river fish gene pool?
The answer was pretty much spot on.
Seeing everyone eat so enjoyably, Xiang Chuan’s not-so-hungry stomach began to rumble. She picked up her bowl, put a piece of fish in her mouth, and frowned involuntarily after the first bite. The pepper’s spicy aroma did mask the steamed fish’s one-note flavor to some extent, but as a southerner who must have soy sauce with steamed fish, she really couldn’t accept it without soy sauce.
Soy sauce, oh soy sauce—or rather, beans, oh beans, where are you—
Xiang Chuan expressionlessly finished the fish belly in her bowl, then stepped away, letting the still-wanting classmates serve themselves seconds with the serving chopsticks.
“Xiang Chuan! Is the fish head edible?”
Having finished her second fish belly, curious Chou Manman picked up the fish head into her bowl to examine it. Steamed fish heads were indeed rare for modern people. Liang Gong and Fu Chengkai couldn’t help crowding over for a closer look.
“Some meat on top is edible, and the eyes too. If you open the skull, you’ll see transparent paste inside—that’s fish brain. All edible, though not very flavorful.” This was true—without soy sauce now, and with little attention paid to the head during marination, it wouldn’t taste as good as in the 21st century.
With the “edible” go-ahead, Chou Manman immediately bit into the fish head. But as it was her first time, she was a bit embarrassed—fish bones even stuck to her face. Seeing the nearby classmates burst out laughing, Xiang Chuan couldn’t help but laugh along.
