Famine 191: Turkish Kebab Wraps

Si Zhiyan picked up two skewers of Japanese charcoal-grilled teriyaki chicken and handed one to Bian Xu.

Bian Xu took a bite, his eyes lighting up. “So tender!”

Si Zhiyan smiled. “Naturally.”

He explained, “The farm doesn’t really have traditional livestock or poultry. The chicken dishes are all made from immature Nightmare Roast Wings, using the mid-joint and drumette meat, so the texture is always fresh and juicy. Fortunately, the pieces from the Nightmare Roast Wings are big enough too, so you never feel shortchanged.”

The sauce was rich and sweet, tinged with a hint of smoky, charcoal-grilled aroma, coating the slick chicken meat. The chicken itself was exceptionally tender, succulent, and could fill an entire mouthful.

Between the pieces of chicken were sections of scallion, grilled until just half-cooked, making them even sweeter and cutting through the richness.

Si Zhiyan ate as he nodded in satisfaction.

Even in a post-apocalyptic world like this, it was rare to enjoy food this delicious.

The Turkish kebab wraps were grilled fresh. Perhaps they weren’t completely authentic, but they were a classic street snack adapted to Chinese tastes—a chewy, resilient flatbread stuffed to overflowing with marinated roast meat, fragrant with cumin and tinged with heat.

All the fillings were made with top-quality wild boar, thirty percent fat to seventy percent lean. The meat was slightly overcooked, the fat half-caramelized, giving it a crispy edge—never bitter or greasy. The distinguishable fibers of lean meat were rolled into the flatbread, along with shredded potato, cucumber, and sliced garlic to cut the richness, so that every bite burst with flavor, juices running down the chin.

“So good…!”

Bian Xu ate quickly and with great relish, stuffing his mouth full—almost radiating little sparkles of happiness.

Si Zhiyan propped his hand up, taking occasional bites of a tuna sandwich, smiling as he watched Bian Xu eat.

As he watched, his gaze drifted down to his hand.

He couldn’t remember when it had started, but the creeping black sludge that had been tainting his hand had finally stopped spreading.

The edge of the black sludge had stalled at his prominent wrist bone, twitching there, curling ever so slightly, as if it were exploring.

Good. Something was happening.

Si Zhiyan nodded at Bian Xu.

Catching his meaning, Bian Xu swallowed a big mouthful of kebab wrap, took a sip of milk tea, and gestured as he spoke. “When I was little, I really loved Turkish kebab rice… There was a place right by where I lived, cheap and delicious.”

“My food allowance was always a bit tight—not every meal included meat. At the start of each month, when the aid from kind people came in, Grandpa would use a bit to improve our fare, giving me some money to buy kebab rice for everyone.”

He bit down on his straw and grinned.

“Back then, life wasn’t exactly easy… Grandpa ran a private charity, and funds were always limited. There were always some parents, bringing in their disabled kids…”

“Strictly speaking, we shouldn’t have taken them in. But for some of those parents, you could tell—they just wanted to abandon their kids outright. Even if we sent them back, they’d just dump them again.”

“Grandpa had a kind heart, so he kept them all. After all, dumping them at the orphanage was better than leaving them at the dam or down an abandoned well.”

In reality, state orphanages were often nothing like the idyllic picture painted in children’s stories—no band of healthy, penniless kids huddling together for warmth and comfort.

In fact, most of the healthy children would quickly get adopted. The ones who stayed the longest were usually disabled in some way—physical disabilities, intellectual impairments, autism…and all kinds of severe illnesses.

Many of these kids weren’t expected to live long, but they didn’t die right away either—lingering on in the world like strange creatures, making the little orphanage seem more like a cave of demons from Journey to the West.

But Grandpa never saw it like that. He wanted to give them not just life, but dignity, because he believed they were born deserving of both.

He paid a heavy price in both money and time: the entirety of his own life.

Although it wasn’t exactly a light topic, Bian Xu’s words were always lively, touched with the lightness of fond remembrance.

“The kebab rice shop owner was a retired soldier. He knew about our situation and was a truly good guy. He recognized me, and whenever I went, he’d always give me an extra helping of meat… He’d pack every bowl to the brim.”

“It was always the same delicious kebab—sprinkled with cumin and the shop’s own secret sauce, incredibly flavorful, laid over sticky potato shreds. Mixed together with rice, every grain coated in potato and the juicy oils of the kebab… The taste was just out of this world.”

Bian Xu raised his head and laughed.

“At times like that, I felt incredibly, incredibly happy.”

Perhaps it was that blinding smile, but Si Zhiyan couldn’t resist reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Si Zhiyan could see that, right now, Bian Xu wasn’t just forcing a smile.

He was seriously, sincerely, trying to share a happy memory.

Si Zhiyan asked, “You were a healthy kid with no disabilities—surely many people would have wanted to adopt you?”

He blinked his golden eyes and replied, “If I went, Grandpa’s burdens would have been too heavy.”

He laughed again. “Besides, at the time—”

Si Zhiyan nodded.

……

By now, the black sludge on Si Zhiyan’s hand had completely stopped advancing.

The whole contaminated area was twitching, restless, as though He Ming were wrestling with her own thoughts.

Si Zhiyan simply smiled, saying nothing more, and handed Bian Xu another bowl of seafood in marinade.

The seafood now supplied to him wasn’t from the farm’s direct hydroponic yields, but a version improved by Li Xuan. In it were the original baby squid and salmon, as well as products from the Imagination Pond.

And the best thing about the Imagination Pond’s seafood was… sheer size.

Huge, unbelievably fresh, and produced in great abundance.

Bian Xu picked up an oyster, measured it against his own face—a bouncy, glossy oyster, shimmering with tangy, spicy marinade, trembling at the tips of his chopsticks.

It was almost as big as half his face.

The black sludge on Si Zhiyan’s hand nearly began to dance.

Bian Xu joked, “Can you even call this ‘small’ seafood? It’s practically as big as a bun!”

A raw oyster half the size of an adult’s face only cost a few points. Cured in marinade, it was sweet and fresh, slipping into the mouth in a single gulp. Bite through, dip back into the sauce, each juicy mouthful a burst of oyster’s own soft smoothness, accented by small fiery chilis.

Si Zhiyan leaned back comfortably and slurped up a bite of wasabi-marinated salmon noodles, savoring the distinctive flavor of salmon fat as he chewed.

He clasped his hand over his mouth, inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his lips, waiting for the wasabi’s heat to fade before smiling. “Not exactly ‘small’—the Imagination Pond holds seafood so big, two people together wouldn’t be able to wrap their arms around it.”

Take the Deepsea King Fish, for example.

After Li Xuan and Wu Jing caught that monster, they’d had plenty of meals off its sweet flesh, ground some into fish paste for staple food—they’d eaten for days.

Eating oysters like steamed buns, salmon like noodles, and facing the Deepsea King Fish with a warrior’s resolve—at last they’d achieved true seafood freedom!

“Thanks to the High Priest for his generosity!” Bian Xu cheered.

At that moment, the black sludge on Si Zhiyan’s hand was almost rising up by itself.

The dark mass wavered with uncertainty, shaking violently, only a step away from breaking free.

Si Zhiyan glanced down and set aside his bowl. “I’m full.”

Bian Xu put his own chopsticks down. “I’m about done too.”

Even with their inhuman appetites, Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu had barely made a dent in this banquet—less than a quarter gone.

So many dishes, most not even touched.

Especially the desserts.

The staples took up so much room that desserts had barely been touched: chocolate chip egg tarts, lemon cheesecake, mango pancakes… none of them had been sampled.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Si Zhiyan lamented. “This stuff can’t be kept, not in this heat. It’ll spoil in two days. Best to throw it all away.”

“Eh—?” Bian Xu dragged out the syllable. “What a waste.”

Si Zhiyan shrugged. “No one else can eat it anyway.”

Boom!

At last, the shadow could no longer bear it.

From Si Zhiyan’s hand and Bian Xu’s body, clots of black sludge erupted, surging out from within them.

Carrying a miasma of despair, the black, heavy mud drifted before their eyes, slowly coalescing into a semi-solid, human-shaped mass.

It was He Ming.

She had finally materialized.

She knelt across from them, her form unstable, still swaying faintly.

Si Zhiyan’s expression was unchanged.

Faced with this lethal, eldritch abomination, he didn’t attack or mention those dense premonitions, the heartless bosses, or discuss life’s tough breaks, urging her to move on or spare them…

He simply lowered his eyes, lifted a whole, glossy, golden lemon cheesecake, and offered it to He Ming.

As if in a chance encounter in an afternoon café, the lean young man in his trench coat turned, smiling amiably:

“Would you like to try some?”

He Ming lowered her gaze to the lemon cheesecake.

It remained untouched—a whole cake, its shining yellow glaze glossy under the light, topped with dried lemon and scattered with sugar crystal stars, filling the air with the scent of cheese.

Black mud is forever trapped in the abyss, surrounded by obstacles impossible to cross: ailing father, critical mother, rent and housing she could never afford, overdue loans… All of it swirling before her eyes like a lantern carousel, impossible to ignore, never ceasing for an instant.

But the lemon cheesecake didn’t spin. The cake was simply there.
Just by looking at it, you knew it was sweet and delicious.

—After all, when she first saw it in the café display, she’d liked it at a glance.

“……”

“…………”

At last, trembling, the black mud slowly stretched out a hand.

Gulp.

The mass of black sludge swelled, enveloped the cheesecake wholly, and swallowed it in one bite.

The abomination ate as abominations do.

The lemon glaze brought a delicate citrus tang; the cheesecake itself was luxuriously smooth and dense, rich and sweet, every pore bursting with fresh lemon fragrance. The crumbly base added just the right solid crunch, melding perfectly with the creamy cheese.

The cheese itself was exquisite—so intensely milky, it was almost overwhelming, and tasted only partly like a traditional cheesecake. Instead, it had a unique, bright lemony tartness that cut through the sweetness, without the slightest hint of bitterness from the lemon peel. The candied lemon on top was just the right touch of tart and sweet.

Devouring the entire cake in one sitting brought happiness in every bite.

Delicious.

Just as delightful as it had appeared—exactly the flavor she’d imagined from the café’s glass case…

No, even better—a joyful, almost unbelievable surprise!

He Ming’s black sludge gurgled and churned, almost making her sway back and forth.

Before she could even adjust, another dessert was offered.

“Black Forest chocolate box—would you like some?” Bian Xu knelt to her left, holding a deep little metal tin, enthusiastically recommending, “The top is whipped cream and chocolate shavings, the bottom is super-rich pure cocoa truffle. It’s sweet and delicious—I absolutely love it. You should try some.”

Si Zhiyan sat cross-legged to her right, holding a steaming bowl, and added, “If you’re tired of sweets, there are red bean tangyuan over here. Real red beans simmered to a paste, hand-rolled sticky rice dumplings—soft and chewy.”

Bian Xu objected, “Hey? The chocolate box is way better, isn’t it, sir? Don’t you think red bean tangyuan is a bit bland?”

Si Zhiyan replied lazily, “The best thing about a dessert is when it’s not too sweet.”

Bian Xu protested, “Nonsense! If it isn’t sweet, what makes it a dessert?!”

Si Zhiyan turned to her. “Miss He, what do you think?”

Huh? Am I supposed to pick sides now?!

He Ming clearly hadn’t expected this twist. She glanced left, then right, dazed.

Two seconds later…

Chomp!

The black mud split in two, reaching out left and right, swallowing the chocolate box from Bian Xu and the red bean tangyuan from Si Zhiyan in a single gulp.

Only children make choices. Adults take them all!