...
Worried about the dried meat going bad, these strips of meat were salted before frying, making them particularly salty. They had the unique stench of wild animals, a tough texture, the greasiness of inferior fats, and the bitterness of salt.
The last time he ate something this unappetizing was when he first arrived on the deserted island.
Flames flickering, Chen Zhou sat cross-legged on the cart, reminded of those barrels of marinated offal and meat chunks he had buried away.
Looking back now, perhaps those meat chunks tasted not much different from the meat strips in his mouth.
Back then, he had taken the ship's white bread and the hard flatbread that was like a brick, thinking he had ample supplies, he made what could be considered a wasteful choice.
Now, amidst the cold wilderness, reflecting on it brings a paradoxical sense of absurdity—
