National Forensic Doctor

Zhanggang Village.

Cui Qishan sat in front of a bonfire, grinning as he roasted the fire, casually flipping the ribs on the flames, sprinkling some salt, taking a sip of beer, utterly at ease.

Having stayed in a place for a long time, one would gradually adapt. Zhanggang Village indeed was a poor area—so much so that the temperature was even 10 degrees lower than in Beijing—but once you accepted its poverty, you could still find some good things.

For example, the local pork was delicious. Of course, there was no beef or mutton to be had, let alone seafood to buy. You had to invite a butcher over to slaughter the pig, but no matter what, the villagers’ home-raised hogs, not just saved for the New Year’s feast, were very tasty.

Ribs like these, simply seasoned with common spices, sealed on high heat, then slowly roasted next to the fire until well-done or even a bit overcooked, were still sizzling with fat when eaten—more delicious than what many upscale hotels in Beijing could serve.

Beijing’s hotels didn’t have such conditions. They had to maintain consistent quality, meaning even if occasionally they got hold of something exceptionally good, they couldn’t use it.

Besides, the river delicacies from Zhanggang Village deserved mention.

The carp soup was good, and frogs caught in the evening could be eaten the next day—as long as you didn’t watch the process, it was wonderfully delicious. Eels and loaches were another dimension of food that Cui Qishan personally didn’t like. He hadn’t eaten them much as a child and didn’t fancy them as an adult. However, team member Li Jiang liked to eat them and knew how to cook them. With a few people gathered around a small pot, the flavor was exceptionally good.

That was until the travel allowance ran out.

But Cui Qishan thought it was rather nice. Maintaining team morale in such a tough place was quite difficult. Finding something of interest was more important than anything else.