PFC 09: Recruiting Underlings
09: Recruiting Underlings
As Han Feng passed by the milk tea shop in town, his feet automatically turned and went inside. Summer isn't complete without milk tea.
He ordered a Shanghai Auntie Milk Tea, with pearls, coconut jelly, boba, and a bunch of other random things added. The cup felt heavy in his hand, like holding a small bucket. He inserted the straw and took a big sip. The icy milk tea, along with the pearls, slid down his throat, making him feel instantly refreshed.
He carried a milk tea in one hand and a fish and scallops in the other, swaying as he walked back to the parking lot. The afternoon sun shone directly down from above, softening the asphalt and making it sticky underfoot. The sunlight shone on the plastic bag in his hand, on the silvery scales of the carp, and on the uneven texture of the scallop shells, making them sparkle and sting the eyes.
Han Feng put the things in the trunk, got into the driver's seat, started the car, and the air conditioning vents blew cold air. He put the milk tea on the cup holder, shifted gears, and the car slowly drove out of the parking lot and headed towards the mountains along the main road of the town.
A Jay Chou song was playing in the car, not loud, but with a melodious tune. Han Feng held the steering wheel with one hand and held a milk tea in the other, occasionally taking a sip. The navigation system played a mechanical female voice: "Continue along the current road. You will arrive at your destination in about 58 minutes."
The town outside the car window receded little by little, the buildings became shorter, the streets narrower, and the number of pedestrians became increasingly sparse. The car turned onto a mountain road, and the trees on both sides became more numerous. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy, casting dappled light and shadow on the windshield.
Han Feng glanced at the plastic bag on the back seat through the rearview mirror. Inside were seaweed, fish food, a cactus, a newly bought carp, and a bag of scallops. Sunlight shone through the car window onto these items. The fish splashed around in the bag, sending a few drops of water flying onto the scallop shells, which were crystal clear, like a few crushed diamonds.
The mountain road ahead wound its way up the mountainside, and the distant mountains rose one after another, their colors fading as they receded into the pale blue mist on the horizon. The wind blew in through the half-open car window, carrying the scent of grass and earth, and made Han Feng's hair stand up slightly.
He took a sip of milk tea, chewed on the tapioca pearls, and suddenly found it a bit funny. Fish tanks can't be created out of thin air; plants and animals all have to be provided by him, the creator. What kind of magical fish tanks are these? What kind of time acceleration? In the end, he still has to obediently go to town, spend money to buy aquatic plants, fish food, carp, and scallops, just like an ordinary person living a normal life.
The car swayed along the mountain road, the ice in the milk tea cup slowly melting and making a soft crackling sound. The road ahead was still long, the mountains were still many, and the sun was still bright. Han Feng put the straw in his mouth, hummed a few off-key lines, turned the steering wheel, and turned into the last narrow road leading into the village.
Han Feng parked the car under the old loquat tree, turned off the engine, and removed the key. As soon as he opened the trunk, a wave of heat mixed with the fishy smell hit him. He carried the bags into the main room, first placing the milk tea on the table, and then squatting down in front of the fish tank to start cooking.
The first thing to do was release the fish. The newly bought carp had been suffocating in the bag the whole way, so Han Feng dipped the bag opening into the water. The fish darted out with a "splash," splashing water all over his face. The old carp, which had been leisurely dozing in the middle of the lake, suddenly saw a fellow carp wander in. Its eyes lit up, and it slowly swished its tail to greet it.
Han Feng didn't have time to deal with them. He continued processing the scallops, taking them out of the bag one by one, rinsing them in clean water, and carefully placing them on the other side of the lake. As soon as the scallops entered the water, their shells slowly opened a crack, revealing the orange-yellow flesh inside, and then slowly closed again, quietly sinking to the bottom of the sand, motionless, like a few stones with flesh growing on them.
Finally, there were the cacti and seaweed. The cactus was covered in thorns, so Han Feng picked it up by holding the edge of the plastic basin. He dug a hole in the desert area of the aquarium with his fingers and planted it whole, roots and all. The seaweed was simple; he just threw it into the lake. The emerald green filaments spread out in the water like green ribbons, swaying gently on the bottom of the lake. The shrimp immediately reacted, and a few of the bolder ones had already burrowed in, peeking out from behind the leaves.
"Desert oasis, cactus, seaweed, all complete." Han Feng patted the sand off his hands and nodded in satisfaction.
The sun was already beginning to set, and golden light slanted in from outside the main door, bathing the floor of the main room in a warm honey hue. Han Feng glanced at the time; it was almost five o'clock, time to prepare dinner.
He ate boiled shrimp this morning and steamed shrimp for lunch. If he doesn't make something different for dinner, he feels like he might never want to see shrimp again in his life. Deep-fried, it has to be deep-fried, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, golden and crunchy. Just thinking about it makes his mouth water.
Han Feng rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen. He took out the bag of shrimp that he had frozen that morning from the refrigerator and put it in a basin of water to thaw. While it was thawing, he boiled a pot of water. Once the water boiled, he poured the shrimp in to blanch them. This step was to set their shape, as blanched shrimp would look better when fried. As soon as the shrimp entered the boiling water, they changed color, turning from bluish-gray to orange-red, and curled into little hooks. He quickly took them out, rinsed them in cold water, and drained them.
Next came the battering. Han Feng found a large bowl, cracked an egg into it, added two spoonfuls of starch, one spoonful of flour, a small spoonful of salt, and a pinch of pepper. He stirred it in one direction with chopsticks. The batter couldn't be too thin or too thick; if it was too thin, it wouldn't stick, and if it was too thick, it would be too dense. He stopped stirring when the batter could be pulled into a thin line when he lifted the chopsticks.
Pour oil into a pan and turn on medium heat. When the oil is about 60% hot, you'll see tiny bubbles forming around chopsticks when you put them in. Han Feng uses chopsticks to pick up a shrimp, dips it in the batter to coat it evenly with a thin layer, and then gently places it into the oil.
"Sizzle."
As soon as the shrimp hit the oil, the batter expanded rapidly, and golden bubbles rose to the surface. The oil droplets danced merrily in the pan. One after another, Han Feng moved slowly but steadily, coating each shrimp in batter and dropping them into the oil. Soon, a small patch of golden color floated to the surface. He turned the shrimp over with chopsticks to ensure even heating. When both sides were golden brown, he took them out and placed them in a slotted spoon to drain the oil.
After the first frying, all the shrimp turned a beautiful golden yellow, but they weren't crispy enough. Han Feng turned up the heat, raising the oil temperature to about 70-80% hot, and poured all the shrimp back into the pot for a second fry. This time, it only took a dozen seconds. The sound from the oil in the pot became more rapid, and the shrimp shells quickly became crispy, their color changing from golden yellow to deep gold. He quickly scooped them out and poured them onto a plate with a "whoosh." The shrimp bounced a few times on the plate, making a crisp sound like small drums.
Han Feng picked one up and tasted it. It was so hot that he had to blow on it, but he still couldn't resist taking a bite. The outer shell was crispy, and when he bit into it, there was a "crunch" sound. The shrimp meat inside was still tender and bouncy. The hot juice burst in his mouth, salty, fragrant and crispy. It was so much better than boiled or steamed shrimp. He ate more than half a plate in one go before finally slowing down. He took the plate and sat down at the octagonal table in the main room, where he finished off the remaining shrimp with milk tea.
There was a fish tank right across the table. He was chewing on the last shrimp when he looked up at it, and then he almost dropped his chopsticks.
The scene in the fish tank, how should I put it, is very much like a prison boss recruiting his underlings.
The old carp was swimming slowly in the lake, its tail swaying back and forth. Its posture and aura were exactly like that of a big boss wearing a white vest and a blue dragon tattooed on his arm. It walked in front, head held high and chest out, looking down with disdain. Wherever it swam, the shrimp in that area would consciously make way for it, more respectful than if they had seen the village chief.
And what about the new carp? It obediently followed behind, always keeping a distance of half a fish body length, neither too close nor too far, neither too far forward nor too far backward. When the old fish went left, it went left; when the old fish went right, it went right; when the old fish stopped, it stopped too. It even deliberately kept the same frequency of its tail swishing. Its eagerness was so great that it was almost offering to light a cigarette for its older brother.
Han Feng stared at it for a while, vaguely imagining what had happened. Apparently, when the new fish first entered, it relied on its strength and wanted to settle in the best spot in the middle of the lake. However, the old fish, without saying a word, went up and headbutted it, making the new fish tumble over. The new fish was not convinced and rushed up again, but the old fish flicked its tail and slapped it hard across the face. The new fish still tried to struggle, but the old fish opened its mouth and bit its dorsal fin, dragging it around in the water twice. In no time, the new fish was completely subdued and from then on, it followed the old fish's lead.
"Goodness gracious," Han Feng couldn't help but laugh out loud, "Is your fish tank some kind of prison cell? Is the old fish recruiting underlings?"
Hearing the commotion, the old carp turned its head, glanced at him sideways with one eye, and opened and closed its mouth, its expression clearly saying: What are you looking at? Discipline won't help, I'm the one in charge here. Then, with a flick of its tail, it swam to the base of the lychee tree with its newly recruited follower.
"Alright, you guys have a good time." Han Feng stood up, stretched, and took the plates into the kitchen to wash. After a long day, he was covered in sweat, and the feeling of his clothes sticking to his back was really unpleasant. He went upstairs, took a hot shower, and changed into a clean short-sleeved shirt. When he came out, the moon had already risen and was shining in through the window, covering the floor with a bright white light.
Han Feng lay down on the bed, turned off the light, turned over, and faced the window. Moonlight filtered through the branches and leaves of the old loquat tree, casting dappled, swaying shadows on the wall, like a moving silhouette painting. In the distance, the chirping of insects in the valley rose and fell, their humming and buzzing only making the night seem even more peaceful.