Chapter 147: “Are swamp frogs edible?”
X paced over to the side, yielding the spot in front to Shukui.
Shukui lay down, and Wu Heng used the same towel to wipe its face, back, belly, and legs. By the time he was done, the towel’s original color was no longer recognizable.
Not far across from them, they easily split a pile of fresh branches still dripping with water from nearby and tossed them into a freshly dug pit.
Yang Xiaoyun threw in a few pieces of fuel, pulled out the blowtorch he carried with him, and a jet of flame shot straight from the nozzle. In less than ten seconds, the wet branches went up with a whoosh.
“Everyone dry your wet clothes so you don’t catch a cold. Getting sick right now isn’t easy to treat,” Jiang Xun said, taking an aluminum tube from her bag. It wasn’t even as long as her wrist.
After she disassembled it, a clothes-drying rack stood before everyone’s eyes.
She was the first to strip off her clothes, leaving only a tight-fitting tank top. The others followed suit as well—most of what they wore were mass-issued clothes that all looked the same. Only Lin Jie was different.
When Wu Heng looked over, Lin Jie was standing there stiffly, while Yang Xiaoyun and Wang Ruixiang stood in front of him with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, laughing so hard they could barely straighten up.
“Let’s see what Lin Jie’s wearing underneath—aha, he’s got that Squidward tank top on again.”
Yang Xiaoyun held Lin Jie by the shoulders and turned him around. The half-dead expression on Lin Jie’s face looked exactly like the Squidward printed on his chest.
“You people have absolutely no artistic sense.”
Lin Jie shoved Yang Xiaoyun aside, dug a knife out of the bag on the ground, picked up a fish, and headed to the water’s edge to clean it.
The fire burned hotter and hotter. Shen Ping’an walked over to Wu Heng. “Take off your clothes, I’ll carry them over to dry.”
Wu Heng took off his jacket and handed it to Shen Ping’an.
Xue Qi was quick to react and hurriedly stripped off his own clothes as well, stuffing them into Shen Ping’an’s hands.
“Thanks, Brother Ping’an.”
Wu Heng sat down by the fire, unrolled a sleeping mat, lay down on it, and went to sleep.
When he woke again half an hour later, it wasn’t naturally—he was drawn awake by a wafting aroma.
The entire fish spanned the fire pit, the big fish lying right in front of him.
The boy turned his head toward it. The skin had been roasted until it was lightly charred, gleaming with a layer of golden oil, while the flesh was snow-white.
Wu Heng sat up, legs crossed, quietly watching the slowly turning grilled fish.
The person cooking it was squatting across from Wu Heng. It wasn’t Lin Jie, but another member of the team. Wu Heng couldn’t remember his face—there was a name in his mind, but he couldn’t match it to the person.
“I used to be from Hanzhou too,” the man grilling the fish suddenly spoke.
Wu Heng responded with a slow, noncommittal “Oh.”
“My name’s Cao Xian. I’m a speed-type ability user.”
Wu Heng gave another “Oh.”
Seeing that Wu Heng didn’t seem very interested in chatting, Cao Xian didn’t continue. He simply sprinkled salt over the fish and said it was ready to eat.
In the iron pot nearby, a pot of soup made from who-knows-what ingredients also came to a rolling boil.
“That’s a kind of shrimp Lin Jie just scooped out of the pond. It’s edible,” Cao Xian said.
Wu Heng wasn’t interested in the soup. He took out his own bowl and chopsticks and only reached out to pick up a large piece of fish belly after Jiang Xun said it was time to eat.
The fish belly had only a few long bones. The skin was charred and crispy, fragrant, and the flesh was tender and delicate when it touched his tongue. The saltiness was light—better than Wu Heng had expected.
“Zhou Yi, eat,” Xue Qi said, placing a very, very large piece of fish into the bowl of the dazed Zhou Yi.
“Ah, thanks,” Zhou Yi replied, though he ate without much appetite.
Jiang Xun sat off to the side alone, with a bowl of soup and a piece of fish, a map spread out in front of her.
“If the journey goes smoothly, we’ll only need to cross the Chunyin River, and then we’ll be out of the Shenjian zone.”
“The Chunyin River?”
“It’s a river that only formed after the apocalypse. It used to be the Wen River, the Maozi River, the Ye River, plus several smaller tributaries. So the Chunyin River’s current conditions are basically unknown.”
“Building a bridge isn’t realistic. The river channel is more complicated than the pond we just crossed, and more importantly, there aren’t any plants on the water that could support a vine bridge.”
“We need a boat.”
“Two boats. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket—if one sinks, you still have another.”
“Then three boats would be even better.”
“Make it four.”
Yang Xiaoyun: “Are you done yet?”
Wu Heng listened to them talk and didn’t find it noisy at all. The more they talked, the less they ate—and that meant he got to eat more.
But even if the entire fish had been given to him alone, that little bit of meat still wouldn’t have been enough to fill the gaps between his teeth—let alone the fact that he hadn’t even gotten a whole fish to himself.
After the meal, the others went off to look for suitable wood to make boats. Wu Heng, Xue Qi, and Shen Ping’an sat on rocks by the shore. Wu Heng held a fishing rod with the tip lowered, while the dog and bird beside him stared unblinkingly at the fishing line.
“Still fishing? For dinner?” Xue Qi flopped down on the spot.
“I’m not full,” Wu Heng said.
“Right, almost forgot, you’ve got a huge appetite.” Xue Qi said, then his eyes suddenly lit up and he sat upright. “Hey, aren’t there snails in this water? Let’s scoop up a couple of baskets and make them into drinking snacks!”
As he spoke, he was already rolling up his sleeves, and in the blink of an eye a basket woven from spider silk was tied around his waist.
Standing on the rock, Shen Ping’an reminded him, “We might not have enough seasonings to make proper drinking snacks.”
“We do,” a voice answered before Xue Qi could.
Shen Ping’an slowly lowered his head. Aside from him and Xue Qi, there was only Wu Heng here.
The water at the edge of the pond was shallow, not even reaching Xue Qi’s knees.
After Xue Qi stepped into the water, his eyes turned into two bright, black almonds. He bent down and felt around for a while, and sure enough, he pulled out two snails the size of fists. Holding them up and examining them carefully, he said, “They’re field snails.”
“How are there field snails here?” Shen Ping’an asked.
“Same reason there are crucian carp here,” Xue Qi said, tossing the two snails into the basket. “Never underestimate the magic of nature, and never underestimate us birds, right, Old Fork?”
X flapped its wings twice. “Chirp.”
Shukui drooped dejectedly, staring at the surface of the water.
Xue Qi flashed it an enthusiastic smile. “Shukui, want to go into the water and play? Come down and take a bath!”
Shukui pushed itself up from the rock with all four paws and looked at Wu Heng’s face.
Wu Heng let the vine threads drift toward a deeper area where the water was calmer. Noticing Shukui’s gaze, he said, “Go on.”
Shukui plunged straight into the water. It moved to a spot deep enough to support its weight, lifted its chin high, and paddled around happily.
“You know dogs aren’t actually born knowing how to swim, right?” Xue Qi said after watching Shukui for a while from the water. “But Shukui’s posture is correct. Its previous owner probably taught it.”
“Woof!” Shukui stuck out its tongue, affirming Xue Qi’s guess.
“A’Heng, do you have shampoo? I want to wash my hair!”
Wu Heng took a small bottle of shampoo out of his pocket and tossed it to Xue Qi.
“How do you have everything?”
“I just grabbed things randomly back then. A lot of it doesn’t even get used,” Wu Heng said, eyes fixed on his fishing line.
“Then did you bring lubricant? Essential for getting into bed—and condoms too.”
Xue Qi bent over as he spoke, completely unembarrassed by the topic. His hands never paused in their search for field snails, and from his expression, he didn’t seem to be joking at all—more like it was second nature to him.
Shen Ping’an lowered his head and noticed that the tips of Wu Heng’s ears had been brushed with a layer of red.
Just when Shen Ping’an thought Wu Heng wouldn’t answer such a pointless question, Wu Heng replied softly, “Plants naturally have sap. It works better than lubricant.”
Shen Ping’an curled his fingers into his palm and looked at Xue Qi. “You really know a lot.”
“Me? That’s nothing,” Xue Qi said dismissively. “There used to be several same-sex couples in our class, and even more around the school—gay guys and lesbians alike. Even though the teachers kept cracking down hard on ‘early romance,’ it didn’t do much. When the crackdown got too intense, they’d stage protests on the track, or just skip class and sit there in silence. It wasn’t until a young couple got caught doing that in the study room and someone filmed it and posted it on the school forum that this wave of ‘freedom’ finally cooled off a bit.”
“Too much freedom,” Shen Ping’an said expressionlessly.
“I’ve never dated anyone. I’m not into that kind of freedom. If I like someone, she has to truly love me—love me the way one loves a god.”
“Worship you? Treat you like an idol?”
Xue Qi said, “Would you treat a god like an idol? That’s not what I mean. I want her to tell me all her worries, and I—I’ll be the one to make her wishes come true.”
Wu Heng looked at his expression. After a long moment, he said flatly, “You’re in heat.”
Xue Qi straightened up in the water at once. He stiffly turned his head to look at Wu Heng. “That’s not right, is it? I don’t feel anything.”
“Have you ever brought up topics like this before?” Shen Ping’an asked him. “Do you feel interested in female spiders now?”
“I’m not interested.”
“Now?”
“I really don’t like female spiders.” Xue Qi was at a loss for words; he almost thought of the owner of the reptile house.
Cradling the basket, he walked back onto shore. “Waiting and waiting—the east wind comes, and the footsteps of spring draw near.”
—
Building the boats would take most of the day. During that time, half the group stayed at the campsite to work on them, while the other half went nearby to gather food and collect plant and animal samples.
Wu Heng and Xue Qi stayed behind. Holding a cookbook between them, one cooked snails while the other cooked fish.
“How do you even have a cookbook?” Wang Ruixiang asked in disbelief. “Even on the road as refugees, you won’t forget about eating?”
Xue Qi glanced at him. “People are made of iron; food is steel.”
Wang Ruixiang paused, then looked toward the fire pit, where more than ten large fish were piled up, almost burying the flames. “That’s some serious steel you’ve got there—might be hard to smelt.”
Wu Heng didn’t like spicy food, so he seasoned the grilled fish with only salt. The oil came from the fish skin itself, releasing a mouthwatering aroma. When Cao Xian had cooked fish earlier, he hadn’t paid attention to the tail and ended up discarding it, but this time Wu Heng took care of the tail as well, grilling it until it was charred and crispy, not wasting a single bit.
As for the field snails Xue Qi had been clamoring to eat, he used plenty of seasonings—bay leaves, cassia bark, salt, light soy sauce, dark soy sauce—nothing was missing. In an apocalypse where seasonings were precious and scarce, this couldn’t even be called indulgent; it was downright extravagant, like feasting in a lake of wine and a forest of meat.
Wu Heng didn’t eat the first fish he finished grilling. Without changing his expression, he stored it away in his spatial inventory, and only started eating from the second one.
“You guys can build boats too?” Xue Qi squatted in front of the boiling pot, watching as Wen Yuan’s people piled up planks of uneven lengths higher and higher.
“It’s simple—if it floats, it works,” Wang Ruixiang said.
“What if it doesn’t float?” Xue Qi asked.
“Then it sinks,” Lin Jie replied indifferently.
Wu Heng used his chopsticks to feed himself bite after bite of fish. He wasn’t talkative, ate quietly, and didn’t draw attention. He didn’t laugh even when he heard jokes, so no one noticed that he was silently eating one large fish after another by himself.
X and Shukui were off to the side, scavenging leftovers until they were burping from being too full.
“Why does this plank smell so bad?” Wang Ruixiang lifted a fir board and sniffed it. “It reeks—smells worse than Yang Xiaoyun’s crotch!”
“Brother Wang? You’ve been sniffing Yang Xiaoyun’s crotch or something?”
“Get lost. Anyway, anything rotten and stinky can just be blamed on Yang Xiaoyun. Who’s that cheap to actually go sniff his crotch?”
The one being insulted laughed, lifted the plank, and sniffed it himself—then his expression suddenly changed.
Wu Heng watched him, his chewing slowing.
Seeing his expression turn serious, the others stopped joking around as well and waited for him to say what he’d found.
Mo Zhaohong raised his eyes and laughed. “Hey, it really does smell like Yang Xiaoyun’s crotch!”
“F*ck off,” Lin Jie cursed, kicking at Mo Zhaohong.
“Hey, brat, show some respect to your big bro. Don’t go kicking people over nothing,” Mo Zhaohong said, pushing Lin Jie away and rubbing his bald head. “Why does my scalp feel so damn slick today?”
Tap.
Creeeak.
A transparent, mucus-coated tongue suddenly shot out from the treetop canopy above Mo Zhaohong’s head.
Wu Heng—who had noticed it long ago—flicked the fish bones off the branch. Vines rapidly coiled and wrapped around each other as a streak of light drifted from within them toward the tongue. The wet tongue was silently severed midair.
The half that hadn’t yet lost its vitality bounced and writhed as it fell onto the planks meant for the boat.
“What the hell is that—”
“BANG!”
Before anyone could react, a gigantic creature—on the scale of a large cargo truck—appeared right above their heads.
Vines burst up from underfoot, dragging several people along and flinging them straight into a safe area.
The massive body smashed the neatly stacked planks into splinters as it fell flat on its back. Two eyes the size of basketballs stared wetly and blankly, full of confusion.
“Gu… gwa.” Its throat bulged, its pale belly heaving as well. Then it flipped over with a powerful motion, belly down, sprawled on the ground and facing the group.
“Gwa.”
“A swamp frog,” Xue Qi said, craning his neck to look up at the terrifyingly huge creature. “Technically a beneficial species.”
“Does that still count now?” Wang Ruixiang asked.
“It does—but what’s different now is that we’re the pests in its eyes.”
The swamp frog was enormous. Its hind legs were thick and powerful; its flattened head bore only a single pair of frighteningly large eyes. Black stripes covered its body, and its belly was sunken—it clearly hadn’t eaten in a long time.
“One of them is easy enough to deal with,” Wang Ruixiang said.
Xue Qi cautioned, “Frogs’ visual systems are different from ours. Either we all move together, or no one moves alone—otherwise you’ll be targeted. And when they extend and retract their tongues, it takes less than 0.06 seconds. Right now, it could be even faster.”
“How do you know all that?” Mo Zhaohong asked. He’d thought Xue Qi was just some pampered rich kid.
“I studied insects for a while, back then.”
“But it’s still just one,” Wang Ruixiang said. As the team leader, he stepped forward first.
Wu Heng sat on a bench and calmly reminded them, “There’s more than one. It’s a whole group—up in the trees, on the ground, everywhere.”
Only after his reminder did they focus and look carefully at the dense canopy overhead and the dark, tightly packed shrubs. That was when they realized that some of the glittering drops on the dripping branches weren’t rain at all, but the large eyes of swamp frogs—and those clusters that seemed like overly dense foliage weren’t leaves either, but patches upon patches of mud-brown, slick frog skin.
Wang Ruixiang’s expression turned serious. “Why hasn’t Yang Xiaoyun come back yet?”
“And where’s Cao Xian?” Mo Zhaohong said. “He’s a speed-type—he’s good at dealing with fast-moving creatures.”
Wu Heng looked toward the pile of thick, meaty frog legs not far away. His fingers itched; he rubbed his fingertips together, then quietly asked Xue Qi, “Are swamp frogs edible?”