Famine 183: Donkey Sandwich

Hm? Si Zhiyan’s gaze sharpened slightly.

With Gu Ying and Milk Tea’s ghost tale complete—the story of the girl and the cat in the box gap—everything here should be settled.

For a second event to suddenly occur, there was really only one possibility: Bian Xu must have triggered something, and successfully resolved it.

Si Zhiyan chuckled softly.
As expected of his most reliable partner.

Back in the day, he himself had genuinely liked Bian Xu greatly.

…Even though they’d only been separated a short while, he was already starting to miss Bian Xu a little.

Si Zhiyan brought Gu Ying back to the first-floor lobby, quickly outlined some design details for her, and then found himself a seat.

Milk Tea circled Gu Ying twice, only to be gently pushed away. The little cat then made her way over to Si Zhiyan, pawed at his trench coat, and used it as leverage to leap onto his lap, where she stretched comfortably and curled up.

A warm, furry weight.

The frost-horned rabbit poked its head out of his coat pocket, sniffing curiously at Milk Tea.
Cat and rabbit pressed their damp little noses together, snuggling contentedly.

Si Zhiyan smiled as he looked down, stroking their heads. He then pulled out the black hole crystal and examined it closely.

[The Cat’s Gate Through the Gap]
In the narrow cracks of the big city, there exist many creatures on the fringes.
The food stall vendor at 4 a.m., the young man living in a warehouse… and the furry head of a cat poking out from a pile of junk.

They have survival wisdom all their own.

Meow! The tabby cat stretched, shaking her head.
Just follow along. The cat will lead you through the cracks in the city and take you wherever you wish to go.

[The Gate Through the Gap]
Within any gap no wider than 1.5 meters, a spatial gate appears.
Pass through the gap, and you’ll arrive at a space you are familiar with.
The destination must be property you own or are permitted to access; the visual experience will match the actual location.

A cat’s territory is limited, and the physical distance between gap and target location must be within 1 kilometer.

If you wish to enter a second gap-gate, you must return to the original gap, lift your head high, and—with the utmost confidence—walk forward, eyes above all else.

If you can’t see the cat at your feet, the cat can’t guide you.
Cats are busy, after all—they still have fur to groom.

…

Si Zhiyan looked down at the rabbit and cat cuddled close together, and smiled.

In a dense apartment building like this, with such narrow entrances, every door is, of course, under 1.5 meters wide.

Originally, Si Zhiyan’s plan had been to clear a space in the corridor, set the jar at the end, and have people enter the jar’s world by passing through the hallway.

Now it was much easier. Every door in the corridor could be a portal to this place.

The cat team had made a tremendous contribution.

A little while later, Gu Ying had finished her drawings as well. Si Zhiyan stretched, tidied up, and led Gu Ying back out into the apartment corridor.

As soon as the door opened, an anxious voice came from beside them: “It’s ready, it’s ready!”

Breakfast had just ended on the third floor of the apartment, and there wasn’t anyone about—the hallway was quiet. Si Zhiyan turned and saw a burly man in an apron, carrying something and rushing over in a half-run.

It was the owner of the donkey sandwich shop.

Behind him, Bian Xu strolled out at a lazy pace, leaning on the door frame, flashing Si Zhiyan a brilliant grin while flicking his fingers—a little gesture of his, a signal that “the show’s about to start.”

Si Zhiyan arched an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curving.

The shop owner wiped his hands on his apron and called out to Gu Ying:

“Sorry, miss! Really sorry!!”

Gu Ying jumped in fright, taking two quick steps back.

The owner hesitated, then rapidly repeated, “I’m sorry, really sorry. I kept hearing from my wife that the old tenant in 3019 always piled boxes out in the hall and blocked up the corridor—Ms. Zhou next door argued about it for ages but couldn’t get it resolved… I didn’t know someone new had moved into 3019.”

“I only just heard it was you. The young man helped you move all the boxes back inside… Ugh, it’s my fault. I just have a terrible temper.”

Gu Ying was a bit stunned, finding herself suddenly confronted by such a large man, and unconsciously hunched her shoulders.

Bian Xu blinked, and Si Zhiyan instantly caught on, saying, “See? You’ve frightened her like this.”

The donkey sandwich shop owner, faced with Gu Ying’s reaction, flushed with guilt, feeling utterly remorseful.
He quickly proffered the basket in his hands to Gu Ying, about to speak, but Si Zhiyan slowly added from the side:

“Actually, it’s normal. You were just rather fierce earlier. You even knocked over a basket of radishes, spilled them all over. We spent ages on the floor cleaning up. Her skirt is all stained with dirt.”

The owner’s hand shook: “…!!”

Si Zhiyan continued, “Gu Ying, your wrist—”

Gu Ying instantly grabbed her red, swollen wrist.
Si Zhiyan had noticed while she was drawing; she herself had barely been aware of it. Likewise, she now realized her face was also flushed.

Si Zhiyan shook his head with a sigh. “The young lady’s so aggrieved, and you still wouldn’t let her in. Making her act tough for whose sake, I wonder…”

The owner: “………………”

The shop owner, looking like a withered eggplant, stood with the little basket in his hands, not knowing whether to offer it or not. Utterly at a loss, trembling, his mouth opened and closed several times, his expression an entire show unto itself.

Gu Ying wanted to cry and laugh.
In fact, she was just a beat slow to react, and not really that deeply traumatized.

But Gu Ying understood kindness when she saw it, and she smiled gratefully at Si Zhiyan.

She pressed her lips together, accepted the basket, and asked, “What’s this?”

The owner stammered, “Homemade donkey sandwiches, with donkey meat and tripe, all the finest cuts. Please try it. I really am… I really am…”

Gu Ying lifted the top layer of oil paper to reveal a row of golden yellow donkey sandwiches inside.

Each sandwich was long, the crust a flaky, crispy pastry just baked in the oven, the golden skin brushed with dark brown spots. This was the classic donkey sandwich—both the pastry and the filling made with lard, giving a delicious, flaky texture and a fragrant aroma.

The cake was split down the middle and stuffed with generous amounts of donkey meat. The dark red, marbled meat fibers, mixed with a bit of braised tripe and green peppers, filled the pastry till it bulged; a ladle of hot, rich braised donkey broth was poured in, glistening and luscious, making just one look enough to ignite one’s appetite.

Gu Ying picked up a sandwich, ready to offer it to Si Zhiyan, but upon seeing his smiling refusal, she took a bite herself.

Crunch.

The crisp crust broke under her teeth, revealing layer upon layer of flaky pastry, soaked with savory meat juices, wrapped around braised tripe and donkey meat—the flavors blended to perfection. Donkey is extremely lean, aromatic but never greasy; drowned in broth, the result was succulent, deeply flavorful, the meaty aroma mouthwatering and persistent.

Such small eateries hidden in old neighborhoods can survive for decades, drawing queues at every mealtime—a feat only possible with genuine skill, as certified by generations of neighbors.

The sandwich shop owner watched her carefully, full of hope.

Gu Ying didn’t say “it’s nothing” or “don’t worry”—because clearly, it wasn’t nothing. But neither did she make things hard for him. She chewed for a moment, covering her mouth, then bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut as if to force out the last vestiges of frustration and collapse…

Then, swallowing, she lifted her head, forcing a little shy smile:

“…The flavor’s not bad.”

And that, at last, broke the ice.

The shop owner beamed with joy, so moved he seemed about to burst into tears.

He wiped his eyes forcefully, voice trembling, “…Thank you, miss, thank you…”

“I really am, really am sorry…”

Honestly, his reaction was a bit excessive. Si Zhiyan traded a glance with Bian Xu.

Bian Xu explained the situation on the channel.

The owner wasn’t a bad man. Yesterday, he’d mistaken Gu Ying for the former tenant, the one who hoarded the corridor and feuded with the whole floor. He’d spoken up for everyone on purpose—truth be told, a bit rough but at heart chivalrous.

Last night he checked with his wife and realized it was all a misunderstanding—he was dumbstruck. Early this morning, he made plenty of sandwiches to offer as an apology.

…

Suddenly, Si Zhiyan recalled that in the “real” timeline, before dawn the next day, Gu Ying had rushed downstairs with her sprained wrist, Milk Tea in her arms… and someone had called after her from above, but by then, she hadn’t heard a word.

The sandwich shop owner had left the basket downstairs, hoping to apologize properly when Gu Ying returned. But he waited in vain, and, soon after, learned of her fatal accident.

Her wrist, swollen from the sprain, made it hard to control her electric bike in a crisis—
Not knowing the full story, to outsiders, this was regarded as a contributing factor in her death.

…At least, any decent person would have thought so.

A human life, after all.

This misunderstanding, this basket of apology sandwiches, sat here forever after, clinging to him his whole life, driving him to change overnight. His wife couldn’t take it and divorced him, moving away. The family, once solid, fell apart.

Until catastrophe struck, the dense apartment became a ghost domain, and at the end of his days, the sandwich man lived alone as he awaited dying, ever haunted by memories of the girl he “killed.” It was his karmic retribution.

He became [a death by fate severed] (“unfated death”).

…

Years had passed, and both he and Gu Ying had become specters. Now, at last, she was able to take a bite of the sandwich offered in apology, resolving, in some measure, her grievances.

Freshly baked, crisp and juicy, truly delicious.

This time, there was still a chance for redress.

The donkey sandwich man quickly welcomed them into his shop, seated them, and served food. The shop itself was small, three rows of six tables, each a four-seater, somehow squeezed together with six stools.

The kitchen in back was cramped, so most ingredients and prep were done out front. The table was cluttered with prepped dough and chopping boards, another table piled with donkey meat. The boss bustled about, laboring to make room. He even served each of them a bowl of refreshing donkey broth. Sitting across, he gave a sheepish smile, still apologetic.

He looked at his own shabby offering and felt even more embarrassed; while Gu Ying was no expert at handling this sort of situation herself.

In the middle of this awkwardness, Bian Xu, lightsome as ever, stepped over with a smile, took up the thread of conversation, and in a few deft, humorous jibes—puncturing the boss but in such a way as to make even Gu Ying, nibbling her sandwich in small, cautious bites, burst out laughing. Within a few sentences, the tense mood had dispersed.

That was Bian Xu’s magic.

Si Zhiyan sat to the side, enjoying the scene for a moment before clearing his throat gently to draw everyone’s attention.

He still hadn’t forgotten: he was carrying a debt of thirty-two thousand.

Si Zhiyan got straight to the point, “Boss, how about renting a place?”

Under the sandwich owner’s baffled gaze, Si Zhiyan smiled and gestured at the cramped walls: “Right here—let’s turn your shop into two hundred square meters.”