Chapter 43: The Taste of Seafood

How did they get the money back?

Wang Jiexiang only later realized how smooth-tongued Yin Xian really was.

He was working in insurance sales. Once he put on that “professional” mask, he was the classic type who could say whatever people wanted to hear—sweet talk for people, ghost talk for ghosts.

Yin Xian excelled at combining persuasion with pressure—first a slap, then a sweet date. He was bold too, daring to make empty promises even when he had no ability to follow through. If he set his mind to deceive, few could resist.

As for why he entered this line of work, there was a whole backstory.

After graduating college, Yin Xian worked at an auto repair shop. After quitting, he tried to start his own business. It didn’t succeed, and he lost all his savings. That failure taught him his weaknesses: he didn’t understand the market, had no connections, and most importantly, had no people skills.

On that front, no one could guide him. Yin Xian could only fumble his way forward through experience.

Selling insurance gave him a foothold in sales. Through that job, he began to study sales techniques, learn how to do business, and develop his interpersonal skills.

In career choices, Wang Jiexiang and Yin Xian had taken completely opposite paths.

Her two previous jobs made Wang Jiexiang long for work that didn’t rely on socializing—just physical effort for fair pay.

After being unemployed for a while, she found a job at a small seafood processing factory.

Trucks would deliver seafood to the factory at random hours. The freshly caught seafood had to be sorted by size and type. Anything not fresh enough was discarded—some sold off cheaply, some tossed outright. When customer orders arrived, Wang Jiexiang was in charge of calling them, helping to pack the goods, and moving cargo.

It was hard physical labor. At first, the factory director saw Wang Jiexiang’s petite frame and doubted whether she could even lift a seafood shovel. She told him she’d done farm work in the countryside—her strength was no less than any of the male workers.

The director had no more excuses. The workload was fixed—if she said she could handle it, he had no reason to refuse her.

From then on, Wang Jiexiang began a life of waking earlier and coming home later than Yin Xian.

She had promised she’d do housework if she stayed, and she kept her word. Except for dinner—she came home too late for that, so Yin Xian cooked—she handled all the daily chores.

When Yin Xian woke up, Wang Jiexiang was already outside diligently hanging laundry.

Unlike regular apartment buildings, the urban village had no balconies. To dry clothes, one had to string up ropes.

The rough, short ropes were tied between two houses. Whoever tied up their rope and hung clothes first got the space. Everyone tacitly understood this. But the buildings were so close together, with narrow passageways, that there was barely any space to hang clothes. The spot right in front of their door, the most convenient one, was a daily battleground.

Wang Jiexiang held up a drying pole, trying to hang several clothes at once. The pole wobbled.

Yin Xian stepped out, took the clothes she hadn’t hung, stretched his arms, and steadily hooked them onto the line.

Once the clothes were hung, they brushed their teeth and washed their faces together.

They squatted side by side, taking turns using the tap. Wang Jiexiang washed her face even faster than Yin Xian. She wet the towel and briskly scrubbed her face with a couple of “swish-swish” strokes—done.

He wrung out her towel for her, and she went back inside to cook breakfast.

For breakfast, they usually had congee with pickled vegetables, white radish, and sometimes added colored beans: mung beans, red beans, black beans—all three together.

Wang Jiexiang disliked black beans the most. With black beans, the whole pot turned dark. And with limited cooking time in the morning, she never managed to fully cook them—they stayed raw. Yin Xian often chewed and suddenly paused mid-bite.

The factory provided lunch and dinner box meals.

After work, Yin Xian would eat first.

Whenever he caught a strong whiff of seafood in the air, he knew Wang Jiexiang was nearby, on her way home.

Not only did she smell like seafood, she’d sometimes bring some back—fish, snails, oysters… but most often, crabs.

Among the rejected crabs at the factory, the ones that looked bad or were too small to sell were still edible if boiled. Every few days, Wang Jiexiang would pick a few and bring them home.

The first time she brought something home, she did it secretly.

That night, she was the last to finish at the factory. While taking out the trash, she noticed a mitten crab still twitching in the discard pile. It felt like a waste, so she put it in a plastic bag and took it with her.

When she got home, Yin Xian was still awake. She excitedly showed him the crab she had “stolen.”

After hearing how she got it, Yin Xian firmly refused to eat it.

“You eat it yourself.”

Wang Jiexiang was clearly disappointed. “Why not? Are you allergic to crab? Don’t like it?”

He shook his head.

“Then why won’t you eat it? I brought it especially for you.” She pulled the crab out of the bag.

It lay quietly in her hand, looking very tame.

Faced with her aggrieved expression, Yin Xian sighed. “Taking petty advantages isn’t a good habit. Even if it’s seafood that’s going to be thrown away, taking it without permission breaks the company rules. Besides, it’s something others discarded—it’s dirty. Picking up trash and bringing it home…”

“I’ll apologize to the director tomorrow.”

Wang Jiexiang put the crab back in the bag.

Pouting, she couldn’t help but defend herself.

“But it’s still edible. I didn’t think too much—just thought it could be a midnight snack.”

“Even if it came from the trash pile, a good wash makes it clean again… Anyway, I get your point. I’ll just keep it alive for now.”

The rest of Yin Xian’s sentence—“If your coworkers see you bringing home trash, it’s embarrassing”—no longer felt appropriate.

Seeing he had nothing more to say, she gloomily carried the bag away.

She filled a water bucket and put the crab in.

After showering at the public bath, she also did the laundry.

Yin Xian always forgot to turn off the lights. The main light inside was still on—wasting electricity, but at least it let her see while washing clothes outside.

Finally washing off the seafood smell, Wang Jiexiang entered the room just as Yin Xian turned over in bed.

She set the bucket next to her floor mat.

Without looking at Yin Xian, she turned off the light and lay down to sleep.

It was cold. Her hands and feet were freezing. So was the floor.

With her back to his bed, she felt like he was rejecting her—and the crab, too.

Maybe she should move out after payday at the end of the month, she thought.

The next day at work, Wang Jiexiang found the factory director and came clean about last night.

“If you want the discarded seafood, feel free to take it home,” the director said generously, not treating it like any kind of offense.

At the end of the shift, he even reminded her: all the thrown-out fish and shrimp were fair game.

Wang Jiexiang thanked him.

She didn’t want to be disliked by Yin Xian, so she went home empty-handed.

Ever since they started living together, as soon as Wang Jiexiang turned into the downhill alley, she could faintly see that the light at home was always on.

It wasn’t a bright light—just a small, warm orange one.

Yin Xian was squatting by the tap, brushing his teeth.

The strong, salty smell of the sea immediately made him aware of her.

Their eyes met. He spoke first.

“I made extra congee tonight. Drink some before bed.”

Wang Jiexiang responded.

She knew she smelled bad, so she quickly passed by him, went to the room for clean clothes, and went to shower.

After the bath, towel wrapped around her, she returned to the room, planning to change the crab’s water.

The crab was gone.

The bucket it was in had been cleaned and put back in place.

But the crab—gone.

Probably dead, and Yin Xian threw it away.

It was a broken, half-dead crab to begin with. Kept in tap water instead of seawater, dying within a day was totally normal.

Wang Jiexiang pursed her lips, forcing herself not to think anything negative.

While doing laundry, she did glance at the outdoor trash can.

The bag inside was freshly changed, with garbage already thrown in.

She couldn’t quite describe how she felt. Holding in her emotions, she scrubbed the laundry extra hard.

Back in the room, just before bed, she saw a pot sitting on the small table.

—Yin Xian had said he made extra congee.

Lifting the lid, she smelled a fragrant, fresh aroma.

Stirring it with a spatula, Wang Jiexiang saw crab legs.

It was a pot of seafood congee.

Seafood congee made with crab.

He ate the crab!

Wasn’t it from the trash? Dirty? Refused to eat it?

She looked back at Yin Xian—his eyes were closed, breathing steady.

Wang Jiexiang smiled.

She scooped a bowl of congee, chewing and swallowing softly.

It was delicious, fragrant.

And wonderfully warm.

As she sipped, she murmured under her breath.

“So good… This person is really so good…”

“What did you say?”

Hearing her speak, Yin Xian opened his eyes.

“Ahem.”

Wang Jiexiang choked a little.

Wiping her mouth, she stammered.

“I-I meant the seafood congee! It’s so good. I meant delicious.”

“Oh.” He closed his eyes again.

Wang Jiexiang felt a little disappointed: Already asleep? Not going to ask more?