Chapter 484: Great Scholar, can you tell what I wrote?
The three of them—Zhu Ping’an, Li Shu, and the bun-faced little maid—found a relatively flat, broad stone and decided to use it as a makeshift table. They snapped off slender willow branches to serve as chopsticks, gathered several large seashells to act as bowls, and carefully washed everything in the clear creek water.
Only then did they finally sit down to enjoy their first meal since being stranded on the deserted island.
To be honest, Zhu Ping’an didn’t have particularly high expectations for the fish soup Li Shu had made. In his mind, as long as the fish was cooked through and the soup was drinkable, that would already count as a success.
After all, she was a noble young lady who had likely never touched kitchen work in her entire life. One really couldn’t expect too much.
As for the rich aroma he had smelled earlier, Zhu Ping’an had already attributed that entirely to the fact that he was simply too hungry. Hunger, after all, had a way of making everything smell delicious.
However, when the bun-faced maid brought over a large seashell filled with fish soup and placed it into Zhu Ping’an’s hands, he couldn’t help but pause in surprise.
The fragrance rising from the soup was even richer than before.
This time, it definitely wasn’t his imagination.
Moreover, just judging from its appearance alone, the fish soup looked incredibly appetizing.
The broth was milky white, rich yet not greasy, steaming gently in the cool air. Served inside the natural curve of the seashell, it carried a simple yet strangely pleasing beauty. The rising steam curled upward like soft mist, making the dish look even more tempting.
After Zhu Ping’an accepted the shell bowl, Li Shu quietly shifted her gaze toward him. Though she tried to make the movement look casual, her attention remained firmly fixed on him.
She looked just like a diligent student who had finished an exam and handed in the paper, now waiting nervously for the teacher’s judgment.
Zhu Ping’an blew lightly across the surface of the soup to cool it down. Once the heat had subsided enough to drink, he cautiously took a small sip.
His mindset was almost that of someone testing poison—curious to see just how terrible this seemingly decent-looking “dark cuisine” might turn out to be.
Yet what happened next caught him completely off guard.
With just that single sip, the rich, fresh flavor of the fish soup surged across his tongue and nearly conquered his entire sense of taste.
There were no spices, no seasoning—nothing to artificially enhance the flavor. And yet, precisely because of that, the soup brought out the purest essence of the fish itself.
The broth was fresh, rich, and smooth—full-bodied but not greasy in the slightest.
It was, quite simply… delicious beyond words.
Zhu Ping’an’s eyes widened in genuine astonishment. The taste had completely exceeded all of his expectations.
Not only was it not bad—it was astonishingly good.
And what surprised him even more was that everything about the soup seemed perfectly suited to his own preferences. The thickness of the broth, the balance of freshness, even its color and texture—all of it was just right.
Almost as if it had been made specifically to suit his taste.
For a moment, Zhu Ping’an felt a strange sense of familiarity.
This flavor…
It seemed oddly familiar.
It wasn’t that he recognized the taste of fish soup itself. Rather, it was something deeper—the overall feeling, the subtle qualities hidden within the dish.
Had he tasted something like this somewhere before?
After that first sip, Zhu Ping’an closed his eyes and slowly savored the lingering flavor. The feeling of familiarity continued circling through his mind, hovering just beyond his grasp.
It was like a word resting on the tip of one’s tongue—so close, yet impossible to say aloud.
“What do you think it tastes like?”
Seeing Zhu Ping’an close his eyes for a moment, Li Shu couldn’t help but ask, a trace of nervousness slipping into her voice.
After all, she had prepared this fish soup without a single seasoning and without any real cooking utensils, on a remote island far from everything she was used to. It was completely different from cooking at home.
Even she couldn’t help feeling a little uncertain.
“Delicious,” Zhu Ping’an replied sincerely.
The moment she heard those words, Li Shu looked as though she had received the greatest reward in the world.
The corners of her lips lifted slightly, and a soft warmth bloomed in her brows and eyes. A faint blush colored her delicate cheeks, and an unmistakable joy seemed to radiate from her entire being.
Without a trace of makeup, she was still dazzlingly beautiful—more radiant than the famed Xi Shi, more captivating than Bao Si.
“Of course! My young miss can—”
The bun-faced maid, chewing on a piece of fish, began speaking with her mouth full, her words muffled and unclear.
“Too much talk!”
Li Shu shot her a sharp glare.
Zhu Ping’an looked slightly surprised, not quite understanding why Li Shu had reacted so strongly.
“Don’t talk while eating fish,” Li Shu said calmly, turning toward the maid. “You might get a fishbone stuck in your throat.”
Her voice sounded gentle enough, but because her back was turned to Zhu Ping’an, the fierce look in her eyes remained hidden. She glared at the maid with unmistakable warning.
Under her young mistress’s stern gaze, the bun-faced maid obediently lowered her head and focused on drinking her soup.
Ah… so she was just worried the maid might choke on a fishbone.
It was only a small interruption, and Zhu Ping’an didn’t think much of it. Perhaps because he was truly starving, he ended up drinking far more fish soup than he had expected.
One shellful after another.
Watching him drink bowl after bowl, Li Shu’s bright, watery eyes curved into crescent moons with quiet satisfaction.
At that midday meal, all three of them ate heartily.
After lunch, however, a far more pressing task presented itself—finding a place to stay for the night.
They had no sleeping bags, no tents—nothing at all. Before nightfall, they absolutely had to locate a suitable place to sleep and prepare it properly.
Although they didn’t have a finished tent, they could theoretically build a simple one using tree branches and vines. But choosing the location required careful thought.
The creekside was absolutely unsuitable. If the water level rose during the night—or if a flash flood or mudslide occurred—it would be extremely dangerous to stay so close to the stream.
However, water was the source of life, so they couldn’t be too far from it either.
Ideally, they needed a place slightly higher up, with an open field of view, while also following several survival principles: close to water, sheltered from wind, safe from hazards, and defensible against wild animals.
Zhu Ping’an, Li Shu, and the maid began searching the nearby area for a suitable campsite.
During their search, they stumbled upon an unexpected surprise.
Not far from where they stood, they discovered a cave on the side of a small hill. It seemed likely that before the maritime ban had been enacted long ago, fishermen had used this cave as a temporary resting place.
From the entrance of the cave, one could look out and see the vast, endless sea stretching toward the horizon. Any movement on the water could be observed clearly from this vantage point.
The cave itself was extremely simple. Inside, there were only a few abandoned stones and a small pile of old firewood. Aside from that, it was empty.
Yet traces of human habitation from long ago were still visible. Small niches had been chiseled into the cave walls—probably used to store tools or personal belongings.
With such a cave available, they no longer needed to build a tent.
And to be honest, none of the three of them were particularly skilled at constructing one anyway.
Sheltered from wind and rain, with a clear view of the surroundings—this cave felt like a gift from heaven.
Zhu Ping’an immediately set to work, stacking stones together to build a simple stove. Then he carefully brought over the protected ember they had kept alive from the creekside fire. Using dry grass, he rekindled the flame and added several pieces of wood from the cave’s supply, turning the stove into a small hearth.
This way, they could preserve a steady fire and avoid the exhausting task of drilling wood for fire every single time.
While Zhu Ping’an busied himself with the hearth, Li Shu and the bun-faced maid gathered large bundles of dry grass nearby. They dried the grass by the fire, then carried it inside the cave and spread it out to form makeshift beds.
On the left side of the cave, they laid down a larger pile for the two girls to share.
On the right side, they made a smaller bed for Zhu Ping’an.
They even wove together branches and vines to form a simple curtain, hanging it in front of the girls’ bedding area to create a sort of private chamber.
Looking at the grass beds they had just finished, the two girls felt an immense sense of accomplishment. To them, these humble piles of dried grass seemed like the most comfortable beds in the entire world.
They eagerly climbed onto them.
“Don’t peek,” Li Shu warned before lying down.
As if I care. I’ve watched hundreds of gigabytes of movies…
Zhu Ping’an curled his lips slightly in silent disdain. Then he walked out of the cave, dragged a large stone to the entrance, and sat down upon it.
With nothing else to do, he thought to himself:
I might as well practice some calligraphy.
Under the warm sunlight, Zhu Ping’an sat on the stone, snapped off a small branch to use as a brush, and began writing characters on the ground.
After everything they had gone through, the sudden peace made the bun-faced maid relax completely. Before long, she fell asleep.
Once the maid was asleep, Li Shu quietly got up and slipped out of the cave.
She saw Zhu Ping’an sitting at the entrance, calmly practicing his writing in the dirt, and she watched him with interest.
Zhu Ping’an noticed her as well. He gave a small nod in greeting, then continued practicing as before.
After watching for a while, Li Shu seemed to grow bored. She snapped off two small branches and sat down beside him.
Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she began scribbling on the ground with both hands, drawing random shapes like a child causing trouble.
Zhu Ping’an glanced over.
Then he felt a little speechless.
In his eyes, Li Shu had drawn countless circles across the ground.
Large circles, small circles, single circles, double circles, half circles, crescent-shaped circles—dozens of them, all different sizes, scattered everywhere with no order whatsoever.
It looked like nothing but chaotic doodling.
“Great scholar,” Li Shu said at last.
After finishing her scribbles, she tossed the branches aside and turned her bright, lively eyes toward him. Her small tiger teeth showed as she flashed a teasing grin.
“Can you tell what I wrote?” she asked challengingly, mischief dancing all over her face.