Chapter 50: I’ve Waited Until the Flowers Withered

Three hours later, Sev had completed three woven rattan cushions.

Rusty’s weaving was standard—a basic crisscross pattern—but it won points for being smooth and soft. Zephyr had invented a new style, weaving a sunflower pattern; though simple, it already showed the early signs of true craftsmanship. Thinking about having Goldie introduce potential clients, Sev naturally pulled out all the stops, weaving the most intricate lucky knot pattern. She didn’t settle for a simple edge finish. Instead, she cleverly separated the rattan strands to weave a three-dimensional meander border. This border wasn’t just beautiful; it added thickness and comfort to the cushion, giving it an excellent texture to the touch.

The four little ones gathered around her cushion, utterly blown away.

"Mom, you’re amazing!" Rose’s eyes sparkled with awe.

"It really is beautiful," Rusty admitted with sincere admiration.

"I’ll study hard, Mom! One day, I’ll definitely be able to weave just as well as you," Zephyr said, having found a new goal.

Firestone, however, shook his head. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could never weave as well as his mother. At this moment, he was seriously contemplating what he was truly best suited for.

With the cushions finished, Sev saw that the four children were still brimming with excitement, so she decided to lead them in roasting the Army Ant eggs.

According to Hayden Hanson, the mutated Army Ant eggs had incredibly strong Life Force. Even without the care of their colony, at least a third of them could hatch on their own. Furthermore, these self-hatched infant Army Ants would instinctively find their way back to their swarm. Their incubation period was between fifteen and thirty days. To be safe, Sev planned to roast them all early to avoid having her toes gnawed off in the middle of the night by giant ants crawling out of their shells.

When they divided the spoils last night, Sev had received seventy-two ant eggs. She had originally planned to pan-fry, deep-fry, boil, and stir-fry them to make a variety of delicacies, but a trip to the supermarket completely dashed those hopes. This world had no woks, no vegetable oil, and certainly no diverse seasonings. She could only obediently roast the ant eggs dry and store them away.

Currently, she only had three types of seasonings on hand: salt, sugar, and lemon juice. Today she had bought refined salt for eight hundred points a kilo. Although the price was four times higher than the two hundred points per kilo for coarse salt, Sev felt it was worth every penny. Aside from its pure saltiness, the refined salt carried a hint of umami. Sev had reason to suspect it was sea salt, perhaps mixed with some sort of seafood powder. In short, this refined salt was the equivalent of a combination of fine salt and MSG back on Azure.

After Sev mixed the refined salt with crushed lemon and diluted it with water, Rusty and Zephyr took the initiative to grab small brushes, dipping them in the mixture and applying an even coat over the ant eggs.

The small brushes were Zephyr’s original creation, made from a type of mutated chloris grass that grew naturally all around the house. The grass’s flower spikes looked just like miniature brushes, making them perfect for the job. Previously, when Sev was roasting dried yams in the yard with the children, Zephyr had noticed how inconvenient it was for her to apply salt water using a piece of gauze. Later, while Sev was out, he got bored and ran off to pick some chloris grass spikes. By tying them to a thin wooden stick and trimming them up a bit, he created a simple little brush.

Rose was busy flipping the ant eggs on a makeshift grill, which Sev had hastily assembled from stones the other day. The bottom was lined with charcoal taken from the kitchen stove. Since the charcoal had already been burned, it didn’t produce much smoke and offered a relatively stable, continuous heat source. Two large stones on either side served as supports, keeping the stone slab above at an appropriate distance from the fire. On top sat a thin, flat stone slab that distributed heat evenly once warmed, forming a smooth grilling surface. The heat conducted through the slab ensured the food was cooked uniformly without coming into direct contact with open flames, preventing it from burning.

The family was bustling about roasting the ant eggs when Sev’s watch lit up, flashing several times in a row. Opening it, she saw a furious emoji followed by a barrage of messages.

Jane: It’s pitch black outside. Is your dinner not ready yet?

Jane: I’ve been waiting so long for you to announce dinner that I’m practically turning to dust!

Jane: You should keep your promises. Did you forget what you agreed to last night?

Jane: You just love burning bridges after crossing them, don’t you? Tossing me aside once I’ve outlived my usefulness?

What puzzled Sev was that these messages were sent at the exact same time, even though their content clearly wasn’t written all at once. After a moment of thought, she understood why. The person had probably drafted a message but felt too embarrassed to send it, then proceeded to write one after another until, no longer able to hold back, he sent them all at once.

Sev directly dialed his contact number. The person on the other end deliberately waited for several seconds before finally answering. "What is it?"

Holding back a laugh, Sev asked with a sincere tone, "We’re roasting ants right now. Do you want to come over and have a taste?"

"Didn’t we agree last night that you were making Mutated Aphids?" Doctor Jenkins replied immediately.

"I’m waiting for you to get here before I roast them. They don’t taste good once they get cold," Sev said.

"Alright, wait for me. I’ll be right there." Hurriedly dropping that line, Doctor Jenkins hung up.

Sev smiled so widely her eyes curved into crescents. She wondered how a man who had to be at least thirty years old could still act like such a proud and petulant child.

With the mutated ants almost done roasting, Sev returned to the kitchen and carried the basin containing the Mutated Aphids from last night over to the sink. The Mutated Aphids were already dead with their bellies facing the sky. After soaking in salt water all night, certain impurities in their bodies—including their internal waste—had been drawn out. Sev drained the water and refilled the basin, washing them thoroughly twice over.

Although her stomach still felt slightly uneasy while pinching the plump, white bugs, she no longer experienced the intense nausea from when she first saw them.

Using the same liquid mixture, Rusty and Zephyr continued applying it with their small brushes. Unlike Sev—a modern youth who had transmigrated from Azure—the children were perfectly fine with handling the aphid corpses. Aside from curiosity, they were filled with anticipation; they all really wanted to taste just how delicious this thing could be.

Mr. Jenkins, the lover their adoptive mother had hooked up with, mentioned that this ingredient was incredibly rare, so it was presumably quite expensive. Well, right now they couldn’t even be sure if Mr. Jenkins was actually Sev’s lover anymore. After all, Mr. Hanson had also been invited over to mooch a meal. Compared to that weird Mr. Jenkins, they actually liked Mr. Hanson a lot more. However, their preference didn’t matter in the slightest. Their adoptive mother would never listen to them.

Doctor Jenkins arrived quickly. Knowing the way, he simply swiped his card to enter and was immediately greeted by a lively scene in the yard.

The woman was holding a pair of chopsticks, busy flipping the Mutated Aphids. One side was already roasted to a golden brown and sizzling with oil. Among the four children, two were busy brushing on seasoning, while the other two were working together—one holding a plate and the other using chopsticks to grab the ant eggs that had been roasted golden on both sides.

The family was bustling with activity. Even when he, an outsider, walked in, they didn’t stop what they were doing, treating him as if he were part of the family.

A sudden ripple of emotion stirred in Doctor Jenkins’s heart. He came from a noble background, never lacking servants and maids to attend to him since childhood, yet his home had always been cold and lonely. The warm, domestic atmosphere before his eyes was something he had never experienced in all his twenty-eight years of life.