Dinnertime.
After Old Yang's patient handling, the jellyfish had been prepared into delicate, cloud-like threads. They lay on the plate like a piece of Cantonese dim sum, with aged vinegar and diced beef seeping into the gelatinous layers, releasing a tempting, sour aroma.
It was a plate of jellyfish salad with vinegar.
Vinegar was a rare commodity at sea.
The only bottle was a treasure of Chunyi's, kept in the captain's quarters. Shi Ming had now brought it out to dress this "jellyfish salad."
That was just like Chunyi, hoarding such a fine thing instead of enjoying it.
'Guess I'll have to help him enjoy it now.'
People of the Wandering Era had no custom of using chopsticks. The pair in Shi Ming's hands were ones he had carved himself from wood on the ship. He skillfully lifted a piece of the translucent jellyfish. The clear morsel quivered slightly, carrying the fresh flavor of the ocean, like a frozen sea wave.
He placed it in his mouth.
Sour, crisp, and refreshing.
