"Mmm... it is so good... so good..."
Nathan's voice was indistinct as he ripped into a just-grilled wing, his eyes welling up as he chewed.
"I have not eaten like this in so long! Even if I died from eating too much today, I will die content!"
He was eating so quickly he choked for a second, gasping with tears in his eyes.
Nathan had not eaten enough to satisfy himself in three years. Most days it had been stale flatbread and bitter weeds. More than once, he had had fistfights with other hungry boys, taking punches and kicks just to get a scrawny field rat for dinner.
But tonight, tonight he was consuming real beef, fresh wings, sweet fruit, and warm bread. And he did not have to fight a single person for it.
Lucy turned around at him sharply, half-laughing and half-reproachfully. "Nathan! Do not talk like that. What do you mean by eating too much to die? Eat sensibly!"
She flicked his forehead with her thin fingers, a soft tap that nonetheless made him flinch.
"Ow! Lucy, I just said it was that good!" Nathan grumbled, rubbing his head but smiling between his tears.
Alex laughed, yanking out another skewer from the grill and offering it to him.
"Here. There is plenty of it. Eat now. Worry about tomorrow later tonight."
Nathan grabbed it hungrily, face shining with thankfulness.
"Thanks a lot, Brother Alex. You are my brother indeed. If you ever need me, east or west, I am there!"
He immediately resumed chomping the wings and beef slices, grease on his fingers and grin on his face.
By the time the fire was crackling low, they had consumed almost ten pounds of beef between them as well as ribs, fruit, and vegetables.
Even Lucy, ever cautious and reserved, had quietly devoured almost three pounds of beef herself.
Alex could not blame them one bit. Three long years of famine deserved this, a night full of bellies, hot fire, and taste of life worth fighting for.
Once the meal was finished and the final embers cooled to a comfortable warmth, Alex finally turned professional. Leaning back, he wiped his hands clean, his voice even but serious.
"Okay. Now let us discuss the water trade." He gazed at Mr. Hartwell, then at Nathan and Lucy.
"I spent the past two days stocking up. I have a good inventory of clean water in the warehouse right now, the same quality that I provided you with previously."
Nathan's eyes lit up at once.
"That will sell quick, Brother Alex. You know how in the black market good water sells at two taels of gold per pot, sometimes three, and half of it tastes like mud. If yours is pure and sweet, it will sell itself. But... what do you want to charge?"
Alex hesitated for a moment, then stated it outright.
"Half a tael per pot."
Nathan's jaw fell. Lucy's eyes went wide too.
"Half a tael!" Nathan stuttered. "Brother Alex, that is below the usual market rate! They will be struggling to get it from you. This is good stuff, genuine water! The black market water is polluted in comparison."
Mr. Hartwell frowned a little, half astonished and half worried.
"You could charge double that, at least..."
Alex simply shrugged, with a small smile dancing at the edge of his lips.
"Water is inexpensive for me. Half a tael per pot is reasonable. I am still profiting. Better that folks here can at least afford it."
Nathan whistled softly. He knew exactly how much gold they could make from this if they sold enough.
Mr. Hartwell asked the inevitable next question.
"And how much water are you going to sell?"
Alex stood, gesturing for them to come along.
"Come with me. You will see for yourselves."
They crossed the courtyard, lanterns in hand, until they reached the old granary Alex had turned into a hidden storehouse. When Alex threw the door wide, the faint smell of fresh wood and stone filled the air.
Inside, piled from the solid earth floor almost up to the thick beams above, box on top of box of sealed mineral water. Row after neat, orderly row. Hundreds of boxes. Enough for trading for months.
The Hartwells simply stood there for a very long moment. Nathan's lips moved, but nothing emerged. Lucy put a hand over her mouth, amazed. Mr. Hartwell's eyes shone with something akin to awe.
To them, in this drought-stricken city, Alex's warehouse was not merely a storehouse. It was a mountain of life.