I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 73: The Taste of Home

When the seven batches of paper had dried, the Dwarves carefully brought them to Chief Joseph.

He used a homemade magnifying glass to meticulously examine each sheet. Soon, he had selected the paper with the best quality: the fibers were even, smooth, and durable. The best sheets were passed around.

They were thin and light, yet when crumpled in hand and then smoothed out, they didn’t tear, only leaving wrinkles.

Of course, only Eric dared to do such a thing. Met with glares from everyone, he remained unfazed, holding up the wrinkled sheet with a discerning look.

"The durability is fine, but it’s too yellow." he mumbled, then reached into the pile of rejected paper and pulled out the softest stack: "Joseph, could you please record the ratio for this type of paper for me?"

Joseph was puzzled: "This is the softest, flimsiest kind, isn’t it? Does it have a special use?"

Eric gave him a strange look: "This kind is the best for wiping! It’s soft and not easily torn. Apart from the slightly off color, it has no flaws!"

Joseph took a deep breath, too lazy to argue with him, and nodded in agreement. The other Dwarves were already excitedly taking out charcoal pencils to try writing on the good paper. This time, not only did the paper not tear, but it also held the ink very well.

Seeing that everyone had something to do, Eric hugged his stack of toilet paper and sneakily slipped away.

Watching the pulp churn in the grinder, he suddenly had an intense craving for dishes made from rice flour. When he got home, he immediately soaked some rice.

It had been a while since he last checked, but the two jars of sauce he was fermenting had developed a rich aroma.

He minced some beast meat, stir-fried it with fragrant garlic, chili, and onions, added various spices, then seared the meat. He added a splash of rice vinegar and simmered it for a while to create a fragrant sate minced meat dish.

He ground the soaked rice into a watery batter, then spread it thinly on a ceramic plate and steamed it to make delicate, thin steamed rice rolls. The rice noodles were a bit more complicated; he had to mix in some wheat flour to make them more pliable, then hand-roll them into small strands.

By the time Leo came trotting home, a delicious aroma had filled the house.

Seeing his brother setting out the food, the little cub hurried over, with only one thought in his head: [I have to be quick, or those other wolves will come over for a free meal and there’ll be none left for me.]

Eric served Leo two full bowls. One was steamed rice rolls in a fish and fresh shrimp broth, and the other was rice noodles mixed with the sate minced meat.

Leo picked up his chopsticks, took a deep, appreciative sniff, and began to eat. The spicy aroma of the sate blended with the soft, smooth noodles, the sweet and clear taste of the fish and shrimp broth... the little cub just buried his head in his bowls and ate, unable to decide which dish was more delicious.

Eric also treated himself to two full bowls. As he ate, he was moved to the verge of tears. It had been so long since he had tasted the flavors of his hometown.

With their bellies full, the two brothers lay stretched out on the floor, rubbing their stomachs. Looking at the leftover rice rolls and noodles, Eric thought he should probably take them to the communal kitchen later and see which lucky person would get to enjoy them.

As he was thinking, he heard footsteps. Eric’s stomach was so full he was too lazy to even sit up; he just lay there and tilted his head to look.

Michael was the first to arrive, sniffing the air as he walked. Even from Eric’s awkward angle, he still looked incredibly handsome—the protagonist’s halo was truly something else.

Seeing the two brothers lying flat on the ground, Michael chuckled and poked Eric’s round, full belly with his finger.

"Eric, what delicious thing are you secretly eating again? I could smell it from far away. Your cooking skills and the communal kitchen’s are on two different levels."

To be able to distinguish this scent, the Snow Wolves’ noses were truly sharp.

Eric was too lazy to move, merely pointing a finger towards the dining table.

"I just made some rice noodles and flat rice noodles. Just add the broth and you can eat. There’s vinegar on the table too."

Rubbing his round belly, he continued: "I’m so full, I can’t move."

Michael laughed out loud: "That’s a shame, we brought you a special gift."

Eric was about to force himself to sit up when he heard a heavy "thud." He turned his head and was momentarily dazzled by a golden color.

Oh my god, it was a heaping basket of wild pomelos! The round, juicy pomelos were packed tightly together, and the wind carried their refreshing and enchanting fragrance.

"Wow, so many pomelos!" he exclaimed in surprise.

The bamboo basket, meant for an adult Snow Wolf, was almost as tall as he was, filled to the brim with pomelos, with vines woven over the top to keep them from falling out.

Michael adopted a mysterious air: "You call them pomelos? Max specifically led us on a detour through that forest to pick them..."

Hearing this, Eric looked up, stunned. Sure enough, next to the basket of pomelos stood Max, tilting his head to look at him, his deep black eyes filled with amusement.

Eric nervously tightened his grip on the bamboo basket’s handle, feeling as if his own breath was being squeezed out. He had been acting strangely lately; his nearly thirty-year-old heart kept beating erratically.

The original owner’s past mistakes were still a clear warning; he couldn’t go down this dead-end path.

He told himself that Max was nice to him because he was well-behaved, and also out of respect for the fact that their mothers were once good sisters. He couldn’t let all his efforts go to waste.

Eric shook his head, trying to clear the stray thoughts from his mind: "Thank you all so much, I love these pomelos."

He hugged the basket and said cheerfully.

Other matters could wait; dealing with this mountain of pomelos was the priority. Storing them in the cellar until winter—what could be happier than sitting on a warm, heated bed, eating sweet, juicy pomelo segments?

Max took a few pomelos and placed them on the table, saying: "There are still plenty in the forest. We’ll pick more for you next time we pass by."

"Okay, okay!" Eric nodded eagerly.

Michael found this scene irritating to watch, secretly admiring Grass’s and Kevin’s foresight. He picked up the remaining noodles and flat rice noodles and headed straight for the communal kitchen, not even waiting for Max.

No wonder the whole group insisted he go get the food today. What a bunch of cunning friends.