Starting from Robinson Crusoe-Chapter 110 - 41: New Year’s Eve_2

That was the humor of a middle-aged man in his fifties.

Chen Zhou never thought he would miss his father's kind of dry humor.

But at this moment, on this New Year's Eve in another world, he had to admit he did feel a bit homesick.

He picked up a dumpling, dipped it in the slightly bitter rice vinegar, and ate it with stewed bird meat and cold seaweed, pouring and drinking wine by himself.

As the drunkenness intensified, the number of dumplings on the plate dwindled.

Chewing, Chen Zhou's face froze. He opened his mouth and spat out a shiny gold coin.

It was something he had put into the dumplings while making them.

In his hometown, it was commonly believed that the person who found a coin in their dumpling during the New Year would have better luck, fortune, and smoother endeavors throughout the year.

Chen Zhou remembered that during the year of his college entrance exam, the pressure was immense. Around the New Year, he was still revising, having no time to relax, as tense as a string about to snap.

On New Year's Eve, his mother had specially cooked the dumpling with the coin separately and placed it in his bowl.

The coin, with its slight mystical aura, alleviated his anxiety somewhat, making him believe he could achieve desirable results in the exam.

It wasn't until he graduated from university that his father accidentally let it slip.

Whenever he thought of this, Chen Zhou felt grateful for his mother's thoughtfulness and care. Such a family atmosphere, filled with such family members, made past events particularly worthy of nostalgia.

Lucky people spend their whole lives healing from their childhood, while the unlucky spend their lives healing their childhood.

Chen Zhou considered himself to be sufficiently lucky.

Whenever he found it hard to persevere or was excessively exhausted, just thinking of his loved ones gave him the strength to carry on.

The dumplings were gone, and half a bottle of ale was in his belly, and Chen Zhou was starting to sway.

Wobbling to his feet, he leaned against a supporting pillar, walked to the cave entrance, plopped down on the ground, propped himself up with his hands, and gazed at the vast starry sky and the distant, pitch-black sea, feeling that the entire world was cold except this place, which was warm.

A cool breeze stirred, and insects chirped on the grassy slope.

Lai Fu finished the bird meat, licked the plate clean, lay beside Chen Zhou, exposing his belly, and hummed softly.

Smiling, he patted Lai Fu on the head. The alcohol made his brain increasingly muddled, and grabbing a stone, he lay at the kiln entrance. Chen Zhou didn't last till midnight and, in a daze, fell asleep.

In his dreams, there might have been the small sofa at home, the tiles so old that no mop could clean them, a large mirror with a wooden frame filled with photos, and the concerned inquiries of his parents.

There were ice creams in the fridge, egg fried rice garnished with carrot and green onion leaves in the frying pan...

All the things worth reminiscing about swayed and floated with the alcohol, disappearing along with it.

...

Chen Zhou was woken by the urge to urinate.

Having slept with a stone pillow, his ear ached from the pressure. Covering one side of his head, he crawled up from the doorway.

Remembering the direction from his memory, he headed to the edge of the platform where a makeshift toilet was, took a pee, and slightly sobered up, he remembered it was already January 1, 1660.

The first New Year's Eve on the island passed in such a house, accompanied by such a New Year's dinner, and muddled through.

Not knowing if the other world had tales of the New Year beast, Chen Zhou took out his matchlock gun, fired a few shots into the sky, pretending it was the sound of firecrackers for good luck.

Birds resting in the mountain forest at midnight were startled by the gunfire, flying up in succession, their sharp or hoarse calls making the world lively.

After sobering up, remembering he needed to take a bath for the New Year, he put down the matchlock gun and walked to the large iron pot used for boiling water.

He reached out to test the water temperature, not too cold, not too hot, just right.

He hung an oil lamp on a shoulder pole leaning against the wall to serve as a light source.

Fetching a bucket and two large wooden cups from inside, he stripped naked and poured a full bucket of water over his head.

Initially warm, as the water's temperature was carried away by the breeze, his skin felt slightly cool.

Rubbing the grime accumulated on his shoulders, underarms, chest, and back, Chen Zhou found that his body had grown much sturdier than when he first arrived on the island.

The most significant measurements were in his arms and calves; with a little effort, you could see solid muscle lines.

Besides that, his shoulders had become broader, and the fat that once accumulated on his belly was flattened. Though no defined abs were visible, tightening his stomach and touching it with his hand, he could feel the contours of muscles beneath the skin.

Numerous continuous heavy labor had built his strong physique and left dozens of scars on his body.

Most of the superficial wounds had healed, but as soon as old ones healed, new ones came, and his body was rarely without a scratch.

Even just walking in the forest, he could be scratched by branches, let alone bruises from carrying stones or sprains from incorrect force while dumping sand.

As long as it didn't involve tendons or bones, these pains could recover in at most ten days, at least one or two days. Chen Zhou had hardly ever cared about them.

He scooped water from the pot with the big cups from top to bottom, carefully cleaning his body, then used the clothes he had taken off to dry himself.

During the bath, he intentionally left some hot water to pour into the bucket later, just enough to wash clothes.

There was no detergent or laundry powder on the island. When washing clothes, Chen Zhou usually rinsed them in the river, waited until the surface dust was removed, rinsed them again with clean water, and once dry, they were considered clean.

His time was very constrained. He changed clothes more often than washed them, only going down the mountain to wash when the laundry piled up.

The sailor's clothes weren't very clean to begin with, and without cleaning agents, it was tough to wash them to their original color.