Fish skin is incredibly tough when raw. Even when Zhang Liu scratched it with a piece of metal, it left only a faint mark.
But to him, that was enough.
In his mind, it was like grinding away at something in a game. No matter how thick the armor, enough scratches would eventually break through!
You're done for. I've got plenty of chances to keep trying.
When Zhang Liu's back started burning under the scorching sun, he finally managed to slice open the fish's belly.
Phew…
A sound like muscles being squeezed filled the air as Zhang Liu reached into the fish's gut and pulled out its innards.
The fishy stench, mixed with the hot, sticky sensation, was utterly revolting.
At the same time, he was surprised.
He never imagined a fish's organs could be as large as those of poultry like chickens or ducks.
Looking at the pile of innards in his hand, Zhang Liu hesitated.
Some science videos he'd seen mentioned that fish organs were edible and could provide essential nutrients, even serving as bait for traps.
He recalled a certain survivalist stuntman who did something horrifying: letting the organs rot naturally and then eating the maggots that appeared.
Eating fish guts…
Though Zhang Liu had never tried the innards of a marine fish, he once attempted to cook river fish organs, thinking they might taste decent with enough seasoning.
The method was simple: he made carp tofu soup for his two sisters and tried simmering the carp's innards with ginger and cooking wine over low heat.
The result? A horrific, overwhelmingly fishy taste that haunted him for life.
But now, stranded in the wilderness, he couldn't bring himself to discard the precious food he'd obtained purely by luck.
After much internal debate, Zhang Liu carefully washed the fish's organs in seawater.
He discarded the gills, intestines, and gallbladder—those looked far too fishy to keep.
But he meticulously cleaned the larger fish liver and the fish maw, which his sisters loved, and placed them in a coconut shell used as a container.
After some thought, he poured seawater into the shell to act as a makeshift preservative.
Next up was the fish itself.
Zhang Liu wasn't in a rush to cut it up. In his mind, if a fish that had been bled and gutted could still leap away, it'd be straight out of a horror story.
Just as he thought this, the "gutted" fish, lying on the reef, suddenly twitched twice.
Its lifeless eyes seemed to glow with a strange light, as if it were silently protesting the injustice of the world.
Once a peerless fish that roamed the seas unchallenged, it was now being defeated by a terrifying two-legged monkey at Turtle Shoal.
Zhang Liu froze for a few seconds, half-expecting some horror-movie twist where the fish would escape.
To avoid any such nightmare, he grabbed the fish firmly and began searching the beach for an oversized shell to use as a cooking pot.
He was looking for a giant clam shell—rumored to grow up to 1.8 meters long and weigh 500 kilograms.
It didn't need to be that massive; a basin-sized one would do.
Luck was on his side today.
After aimlessly searching the beach for a while, Zhang Liu spotted several giant clam shells in the low-tide area.
After careful selection, he waded into the water and retrieved six shells—three large and three small.
Unlike the pristine, colorful shells you see in filtered photos, these were gray, white, and yellow, with a dull, ashen tone.
Their triangular shape had deep grooves running from the top to the center, like tire tracks, and thick, jagged edges.
To put it bluntly, they were just oversized, uglier versions of regular shells.
What satisfied Zhang Liu was their smooth interiors after cleaning and their thick, sturdy walls—perfect for stewing fish.
With a container secured, the sea fish, which had miraculously stayed intact, was in for trouble.
The metal sheet wasn't sharp, and its short blade struggled to cut through bone, let alone the fish's spine.
But Zhang Liu didn't plan to slice it into neat pieces with such a crude tool.
Instead, he made a cut on the other side of the bone, grabbed both ends of the fish, and twisted hard.
Snap!
A clear liquid—maybe cerebrospinal fluid, maybe just seawater—splashed into the air. The fish, once over half a meter long, was instantly shortened by a third.
He repeated the process, breaking the fish into sections.
Soon, he had separated the meat from the head and tail, leaving the body in neat chunks.
With the fish in one hand and a bundle of what might've been kelp in the other, Zhang Liu headed toward the cave, humming a tune.
This was just his first trip.
He planned to make several more to retrieve the remaining clam shells.
Tonight's gonna be a feast!
Feeling triumphant, Zhang Liu's spirits soared.
Meanwhile, Qin Ruoshuang was bending down to pick up jaboticaba fruit from the ground, placing them into a coconut shell container.
Anya was sipping water under a tree.
Their fruit-picking task was nearly done.
"Want some water?" Anya offered the half-empty bottle of mineral water to Qin Ruoshuang, who was standing up to catch her breath. "We should head back."
"Sure, thanks," Qin Ruoshuang replied, taking a couple of sips before nodding. "Yeah, it's time. The sun's starting to change color."
According to Zhang Liu, when the sun turned red, dusk was near. If the sky itself reddened, they needed to hurry.
Qin Ruoshuang didn't want to cause Zhang Liu any more trouble, especially since today's harvest was impressive.
Both coconut shell containers were brimming with fruit.
She prepared to leave quickly.
However, wild fruit wasn't like cultivated crops—there wasn't much left to pick from the ground or low branches.
Still, the haul was enough to feed three people for two days, which was no small feat.
"There's not much fruit left," Qin Ruoshuang said, glancing back at the grove as they left.
Halfway through her sentence, she whispered her concern: "What are we going to do next?"
"Don't worry, we're having fish tonight!" Anya replied, far more upbeat.
She popped a jaboticaba into her mouth, savoring its sweetness. "Let's see who eats faster and gets more!"
"You're right," Qin Ruoshuang said, her mood lifting at the thought of eating meat. She quickened her pace, eager for dinner.
The two soon reached the small rock.
Looking at the massive stone where she'd once spent a sleepless night curled up, Qin Ruoshuang felt a pang of discomfort.
She recalled the carefree expression Zhang Liu had worn today after her conversation with Anya.
"Anya, do you think Zhang Liu might… not want us anymore?" Qin Ruoshuang asked, clutching the jaboticaba, her voice heavy with worry.
The question, one Anya had asked before, had been gnawing at her, and she couldn't hold it back any longer.
"Uh…"
Anya blinked, her expression strange, but she didn't respond.
Not because she was at a loss for words, but because she'd just spotted Zhang Liu's head peeking out from behind the rock, his face frozen in shock.