Free Web NovelChapter 213: Chapter 170: Damn It, Shut Your Mouth
"We’re already busy enough, and this kid wants to stir up more trouble? Do you have any idea how much work it is to pick crab meat by hand!?"
"No idea," Max shrugged. "He makes it look pretty easy. You should try it yourself when you have a moment."
"But I do think it’s a good idea. There are plenty of restaurants that sell dishes like Lobster pasta or Lobster salad, but almost none that sell things like crab pasta."
"Get lost, get lost, get lost! Don’t bother me! We’ll talk after the dinner rush is over!"
For a Western restaurant, dinner service was always this busy and filled with tension. As a ten-year veteran, Max was long used to this kind of atmosphere.
In fact, not only was he not annoyed, he even hoped this chaotic state would last a little longer.
Only then could the back of house maintain its proper vitality and lifeblood.
He had just turned around when he saw a new face in front of the ordering machine.
He immediately put on a professional smile and went over.
"Hey there, sir. Good evening. What can I get for you?"
"I’ll have a medium-rare venison fillet, a medium-rare salmon burger with extra yellow mustard, and a poutine."
"Alright, that’ll be forty-eight dollars. You can pay by card."
As soon as he passed over the POS machine, he immediately turned and shouted toward the kitchen, "Medium-rare venison fillet! Medium-rare salmon burger! Extra mustard on the burger!"
"DAMN IT!!!!"
Hearing the roar from the kitchen, he exchanged a glance with the customer and smiled slightly. "Don’t mind that, sir. It’s just how it is in the kitchen when it gets busy."
"No problem. This reminds me of watching Hell’s Kitchen. Food from a team with a chef who swears a lot should be pretty good."
"Haha, I hope you enjoy it. Please, feel free to find a seat."
Just as the man walked away with his order number, the restaurant’s main door was pushed open again, and a family of three walked in.
The corner of Max’s mouth twitched. He turned his head. "Hey, old pal, another family."
"HEY! DAMN IT! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE RIGHT NOW! SHUT THAT STINKING MOUTH OF YOURS!!!"
...
His belly full, Lin Chen lay down contentedly in the dugout pit, enjoying the cool evening sea breeze. A pleasant lethargy washed over him, making him want to drift off to sleep right then and there.
While his workload today hadn’t been huge, climbing the tree had still taken a lot out of him.
He hadn’t felt it while he was busy, but as soon as he relaxed, a thick wave of fatigue washed over him.
On top of that, he hadn’t slept very well last night. He felt like he could barely keep his eyes open.
He lay there, staring up at the pitch-black roof of the pit. The height of just over a meter made it feel a bit oppressive. freeweɓnøvel.com
’How should I preserve the embers?’
He searched his mind for relevant techniques and the various strategies he’d studied before the competition. He quickly recalled two methods for preserving embers that were suitable for his current situation.
One was the sand-burial method, and the other was the banana leaf wrapping method.
Whichever method he used, the key to preserving embers was to have no open flame; they had to be kept in a smoldering state.
Like charcoal, basically.
He’d actually accomplished the sand-burial method by accident back in Alaska and had been using it ever since.
You just had to cover the surface of the red-hot coals with a layer of sand, wood ash, or some other non-flammable powder. But you couldn’t pack it too tightly; you had to leave a bit of space for a small amount of oxygen to seep in.
As long as there was even a tiny bit of oxygen, the embers could stay smoldering for several hours.
With this method, as long as the bonfire was large enough, it would naturally collapse as it burned down, burying the embers at the bottom.
He planned to try both methods this time. The cross-shaped fire lay would surely form a buried pile as it burned down, so he didn’t have to worry about those embers.
As for the banana leaf wrapping method, it was just a matter of wrapping the coals in a large, fresh leaf—not too tightly—and then finding a place to hang it.
’The fire’s only been burning for a little while. I’m full anyway, so there’s no need to waste firewood. After all, air-drying wood is pretty time-consuming. I should put it out for now.’
He grabbed a few handfuls of dirt and threw them onto the fire. The flames were quickly suppressed, eventually dying down completely, leaving only the red-hot coals on the surface and the unlit firewood underneath.
He picked out two short pieces of wood that were only half-burnt, wrapped them in a banana leaf, tied it in a simple cross pattern with a cord made from Mulberry Tree bark, and hung it at the entrance to the pit.
He left the rest of the fire pile buried there to smolder, figuring he’d dig it back up in the morning when he needed it.
He checked the time.
Exactly 5:30.
He grabbed a roll of banana leaves and Mulberry Tree bark, slung it over his shoulder, and headed straight for the beach.
’It’s almost low tide. I need to go see with my own eyes if my calculations were right, and while I’m at it, I’ll grab some more seafood.’
’Seafood this fresh is guaranteed to be good quality within twenty-four hours of leaving the water. Tomorrow, I’ll try to dedicate all my time to collecting firewood and expanding the shelter. If possible, I’ll also see if I can make some tools.’
His current situation was similar to when he was at his shelter in Alaska. It was about a half-hour walk to get to the beach and the nearby Mangrove Forest, meaning a round trip took nearly an hour.
If he could stockpile supplies, he should. Minimizing unnecessary aerobic exertion was the key to maintaining his body weight.
When he arrived at the beach again, he had timed it perfectly for low tide.
Wave after wave receded, revealing the thoroughly soaked, brown sand of the beach.
As far as he could see, the beach was strewn with dark brown and deep green seaweed, along with many unknown types of fish that hadn’t retreated in time and were now stranded.
’Seaweed is good stuff. It can replenish salt and minerals, and it’s perfect for soup. Definitely taking this.’
’Well, well, if it isn’t Patrick Star. Hello there. Come on, let’s go visit my place.’
He had just picked up two starfish when he looked up and noticed a few spiky black balls in a crevice of the reef ahead.
’Is that... a sea urchin?’
