Substitute Alpha Gets Confessed to by Her Ex’s Aunt on a Survival Variety Show – Chapter 148
by Little PandaLemongrass-Stewed Python
“We’re here.”
Nan Huaixu stepped onto the fine gravel of the rocky shoal. Not far ahead, a great tree lay broken in two.
The broken trunk left a thick, hollow stump on the ground. The other section, crown and all, had toppled onto the shoal, most of its bark charred black.
Even Nan Huaixu, no wilderness expert, could recognize the unmistakable marks of a lightning strike. “This tree really was struck by lightning.”
“Yes,” Liu Yinxi said, walking over. She mused that a piece of lightning-struck wood this large would fetch a good price back in China. But she couldn’t bring it back, so she dismissed the thought quickly.
Truth be told, Liu Yinxi had never been the money-grubbing type. But she was deep in debt now, and she had to find a way to clear what the original owner of this body owed. Only then could she settle down and find work at Nan Huaixu’s side, making a living in peace.
As the two approached the broken trunk, their footsteps startled off some flying insects. Liu Yinxi noticed a colony of ants crawling across the stump and several black-green butterflies perched on it, reluctant to leave even with humans approaching.
That was odd.
Butterflies were skittish creatures — they’d fly off the moment a large animal disturbed them. Yet here were humans, a rare sight in the rainforest, and the butterflies still lingered. Could there be something attracting them? Salt, perhaps? Blood, or a carcass?
Suspecting the broken stump held something that drew the insects, Liu Yinxi raised her trekking pole and swatted at the knee-high grass ahead. “Teacher Nan, wait here for me. Let me look inside the stump.”
Nan Huaixu had already noticed the butterflies on the stump — their jet-black wings refracting a metallic green in the sunlight, strikingly beautiful. She watched them while cautioning Liu Yinxi: “All right, be careful. Watch out for snakes and venomous insects in the grass.”
Liu Yinxi carried insect repellent and a knife on her person and stayed constantly alert. She smiled at Teacher Nan’s concern, then walked to the stump, rapped it with her trekking pole to confirm no dangerous animals were inside, and climbed up the roots onto the old stump.
The old tree had snapped, but it had been tall — the stump alone stood two or three meters high.
Liu Yinxi gripped the ragged edges of the stump, clambered up using the knobby burls as footholds, and peered inside. A startled sound escaped her: “Oh!”
Nan Huaixu took a couple of curious steps into the grass. “What’s wrong? Is there really something in there?”
Liu Yinxi stopped her. “Teacher Nan, don’t come over yet.”
Nan Huaixu cooperatively halted. “What is it? Tell me already.”
Liu Yinxi looked into the stump again, peering carefully. “Teacher Nan, you called it. There’s a snake in here.”
“A snake?” Nan Huaixu went on high alert at once. “Get down! Don’t let it bite you!”
Liu Yinxi chuckled and quickly explained. “Don’t worry. The snake was hiding in the hollow stump. The lightning already killed it.”
“Huh?” Nan Huaixu stared, unable to imagine such a scenario.
Lightning-struck tree, a snake spirit’s heavenly tribulation1 — a quintessential Chinese folk tale.
Nan Huaixu asked teasingly, “Don’t tell me it’s a python?”
Liu Yinxi whipped around to look at her. “How did you know? Teacher Nan, you’re a prophet!”
This time it was Nan Huaixu’s turn to be shocked. “It really is?!”
“Really.”
But this was a coincidental natural phenomenon, nothing to do with folk tales.
Snakes liked to hide in cavities, tall trees attracted lightning, and Jinzhou Island’s tropical rainforest was home to many large pythons. Combine these factors and such a rare sight wasn’t so strange after all.
Liu Yinxi climbed down from the stump, used her knife to cut a long, straight branch, and sharpened one end. She slung the stick over her shoulder and climbed back up.
She planted her feet firmly, gripped the split edges of the stump with both hands, and thrust the sharpened wooden spear down hard with her right. “Hey!”
Nan Huaixu was baffled by her sudden string of unexpected actions. “Liu Yinxi, what are you doing now?”
Liu Yinxi didn’t answer directly. She rambled, “Teacher Nan, do you know what kind of meat is common in Jinzhou’s markets?”
The answer was obvious. Nan Huaixu replied directly, “Python?”
Liu Yinxi smiled. “That’s right.” She had already speared out a section of headless, tailless snake meat with the wooden spear. “This is a local delicacy — excellent protein and fat. I’ve eaten small snakes before, but never one this big. Let’s taste it together today~”
The python, blasted apart by lightning and nibbled by insects, was not a pretty sight.
Nan Huaixu considered herself hardened by the wilderness by now — she could even stomach the sight of a land planarian, repulsive as those flatworms were. But facing this mangled snake meat, she still struggled.
Nan Huaixu took a step back and asked, “Liu Yinxi, is it even edible?”
Liu Yinxi tossed the snake meat down first, then climbed off the stump. “I checked. Some parts are still good. I’ll prep it properly.”
She looked up and caught the reluctance Nan Huaixu was trying to hide behind a smile. She immediately backtracked. “I didn’t notice from far away, but looking at it up close, this meat really isn’t great. I’ll just try a bit myself. I’ll make you grilled fish tonight.”
After so many days together, Nan Huaixu could tell at once that Liu Yinxi was sparing her feelings.
Nan Huaixu thought it over. Snake meat, once stewed, wouldn’t look so frightening — it’d be like fish or chicken. Besides, Liu Yinxi’s cooking was excellent; whatever she made with the snake would taste good.
And ultimately, Liu Yinxi was going out of her way to make something she’d never tried. If she refused, wouldn’t that dampen Liu Yinxi’s enthusiasm?
What a waste of someone’s heartfelt gesture…
That wouldn’t do.
Nan Huaixu took the trekking pole from Liu Yinxi’s hand and deliberately raised her voice. “But you know, I’ve never eaten python before. Life is about taking on challenges — and I won’t get another chance like this.”
Liu Yinxi’s tone gained a note of anticipation. “Great! I’ll make it really delicious. Just try a tiny bit — for the taste.”
Liu Yinxi perked up, and so did Nan Huaixu. “All right.”
On a sunny day, fish bit best in the morning. Liu Yinxi and Nan Huaixu each took a fishing rod and sat on the lake shore near the broken trunk, fishing.
With proper fishing rods, using earthworms as bait made things much easier — far better than the primitive handmade poles they’d used before.
Even so, Nan Huaixu, who had no fishing experience, was a groundbait master2.
“I can see them. How could they do this to me?” Nan Huaixu propped her rod on the wooden stand and stood up, gazing at the lake. Several fish circled her bait, swimming back and forth, mouthing at the surface.
Liu Yinxi held back a laugh and consoled her. “Maybe they’re not very hungry.”
Nan Huaixu fell to brooding. “Did I throw too much fruit peel when I was chumming? But fruit peel isn’t as tasty as earthworms. What do they mean, just circling like that?”
“Maybe they think you’re pretty,” Liu Yinxi said.
Nan Huaixu burst out laughing and tilted her head up. “Is that so? I thought only humans found me beautiful.”
When it came to her universally acknowledged beauty, she had always graciously accepted sincere compliments.
Nan Huaixu leaned toward Liu Yinxi. “Then these fish should sink.”
Liu Yinxi turned to her. “Sink?”
“Sinking fish, falling geese3,” Nan Huaixu explained.
“I’ve wondered about this for years. If it’s about highlighting someone’s beauty, shouldn’t the fish float on the surface, reluctant to sink? Why describe a beauty as ‘sinking fish’?” Liu Yinxi pointed at the fish drifting in the water. “A true beauty should entrance the fish so much they can’t look away, just like this.”
Nan Huaixu shifted her sitting position and sighed. “Looks like human beauty is useless to fish. Getting hooked and filling our stomachs — that’s what’s truly useful.”
She unscrewed her bottle and took a sip of water, chatting with Liu Yinxi. “Let me solve your puzzle, Classmate Xiao Liu.”
Liu Yinxi nodded and listened attentively.
She loved hearing Nan Huaixu explain things so earnestly.
Teacher Nan, who always kept everyone at a polite distance, showed her and her alone such attentive care — willing to look after her as one would a child. Just thinking about it made Liu Yinxi proud — Teacher Nan is this gentle with no one else in the world.
Nan Huaixu tossed grass at the fish as she spoke, frustrated. After all, she couldn’t catch them anyway — no need to worry about scaring them off. “Because the earliest source of the phrase ‘sinking fish, falling geese’ is from 《Qiwulun4》. The original text reads: ‘Fish see her and dive deep; birds see her and fly high; deer see her and flee.’ The meaning wasn’t praise for beauty — it was that beauty has no universal standard. Fish, birds, and deer all flee from a beautiful woman. They don’t understand human beauty; they only fear human harm. Only later did the phrase come to describe physical beauty. Some ancient terms shifted in meaning over time, and some even came to mean the exact opposite.”
Liu Yinxi had a eureka moment. “So that’s it! That makes sense — animals fleeing from humans is instinct.”
Nan Huaixu smiled. “Mm-hm, so your doubt was well-founded. See? What’s written in books isn’t absolute. The knowledge you’ve gained from nature is impressive too.”
Hearing this, Liu Yinxi realized Nan Huaixu was praising her in a roundabout way.
Someone this learned had never once mocked the original owner’s lack of education. Instead, she kept discovering Liu Yinxi’s strengths and praising them sincerely.
Completely unlike Ying Luoling, who often made fun of her lack of education.
How could the gap between people be so vast?
Liu Yinxi suddenly felt there were two kinds of people in the world.
Nan Huaixu, and everyone else.
Teacher Nan was too good.
Liu Yinxi would make the best dish for the best Teacher Nan: lemongrass-stewed python.
Before the competition, Liu Yinxi had gathered information about Jinzhou Island — not just the natural ecology of the competition area, but also local customs and folkways, including methods for preparing various Jinzhou Island ingredients.
Back at the shelter, Liu Yinxi first cleaned the snake meat, removing the innards and skin, then cut it into pieces and boiled it for a full half hour to disinfect it.
She drained the snake pieces, set up the stone slab, heated palm oil, and stir-fried the pieces with lemongrass, lime leaves, pepper, cinnamon, and other spices.
Once the meat was cooked through, she transferred it to the meal box, added pre-mixed sauce, covered it, and let it stew for two hours.
The stewing time was quite long. By the time darkness fell, Liu Yinxi grilled the fish they’d caught and ate those first — the small amount of snake meat wouldn’t fill them up anyway.
While Liu Yinxi grilled the fish, Nan Huaixu sat at the edge of the floor, legs dangling, gazing at the field outside. She lamented, “That ground-rolling fire rolled through and burned all our sweet potatoes.”
So many days of hard work — back to square one overnight.
Liu Yinxi consoled her. “We were almost done digging them up anyway. We still have banana heart — it’s all over the rainforest.”
Nan Huaixu had adopted Liu Yinxi’s optimistic thinking, looking on the bright side. “Yes, maybe it’s Heavenly Mother5‘s way of telling us we’re about to win.” And wouldn’t need so many sweet potatoes anymore.
Puff-pop!
The meal box let out a bubbling sound, the hot soup brimming over as it popped the lid open.
Liu Yinxi quickly used bamboo chopsticks to lift the lid. A mouthwatering aroma hit her. She picked up a piece of snake meat, blew on it, and held it to Nan Huaixu’s lips. “Want to try?”
Nan Huaixu’s lips curved up. She looked straight into Liu Yinxi’s eyes from inches away, unblinking. “You’re going to feed me?”
If this was how it was going to be, then who could possibly be afraid of snake meat?
Footnotes
- In Chinese folklore, animals (especially snakes) that cultivate spiritual power must survive a lightning strike ('heavenly tribulation') to ascend to a higher form.
- Internet fishing slang for an angler who dumps excessive bait into the water but catches nothing, effectively just feeding the fish.
- A famous Chinese idiom for 'peerless beauty,' literally 'sinking fish and falling geese.' Its original meaning was quite different.
- A chapter from 'Zhuangzi,' the foundational Daoist text by Zhuang Zhou, arguing that all distinctions are relative.
- Internet slang replacing the traditional 'Heavenly Father' with 'grandma/mother' for a humorous, female-centric address to divine fate.
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