My Taoist nun girlfriend is from the Republic of China era, 1942.

Chapter 118 The Old Man with the Broken Arm

The long-tailed boat slowly docked, and Chen Xiaomiao walked at the front with one hand on her hip and the other carrying a half-box of lively "trophies".

Lu Yuan followed behind her, his hands empty, his smile a mixture of helplessness and doting.

Back at the hotel, Domai greeted him at the door and flattered him, "Wow... Mr. Lu, you're quite skilled! The waves were quite big today, yet you still managed to catch so many."

In front of outsiders, Chen Xiaomiao never contradicted a man's pride, and silently acquiesced.

Lu Yuan smiled helplessly and instructed, "Pick a few that taste good and have the kitchen make them tonight."

"Yes, Mr. Lu."

Domai nodded in agreement, then turned to Chen Xiaomiao, her attitude becoming even more solicitous: "Miss Chen, what do you think of these fish? Would you like them steamed, braised, or made into a Thai-style hot and sour flavor?"

"I'll do it!" Chen Xiaomiao became interested and volunteered: "Can I use the stove and pots here?"

Domai paused for a moment, then subconsciously looked at Lu Yuan.

Lu Yuan didn't mind. Seeing that she was in high spirits, he said to Duomai, "Make arrangements for her and find two chefs to help out."

"Yes, Mr. Lu."

Domai nodded in agreement and turned to go to the kitchen to give instructions.

Lu Yuan went back to his room to take a shower. When he came out after changing his clothes, Chen Xiaomiao was just returning with her "work".

A long dining table was moved to the lawn in the courtyard, with candlesticks and flowers on it.

In the distance, the setting sun casts a golden glow, and the waves gently lap at the beach—the atmosphere is just right.

The waiters brought dishes to the table one after another. In addition to the two fish that Chen Xiaomiao had prepared herself, Duomai also thoughtfully had other Thai dishes prepared.

A steamed dish, drizzled with hot oil and soy sauce, with shredded scallions and ginger neatly arranged.

The other one was braised, with a rich sauce and a bright red color.

It's clear that the plating was done by the hotel chef; the appearance alone is enough to make your mouth water.

Lu Yuan picked up a piece of steamed fish with his chopsticks. It was fresh and tender, and the cooking time was just right. He couldn't help but praise, "Your skills have improved, Chef Chen."

"No, it's just that the hotel chef is amazing; he even prepared all the seasonings for me..."

Chen Xiaomiao smiled modestly; she was quite self-aware.

I thought I was pretty good at cooking, but after working in the kitchen for a while, I realized that my skills were nothing compared to what I had learned from an apprentice...

“Lu Yuan, I was just in the kitchen chatting with the young man who helped me clean the fish, and he can speak our language too.”

"Well, since it's a hotel run by Chinese people, we'll naturally prioritize hiring staff who can speak Chinese."

"At first I thought I had run into someone from my hometown, and I was overjoyed."

Chen Xiaomiao puffed out her cheeks, her tone puzzled: "But the person kept shaking his head, saying that his grandfather's generation came from Fujian, and he was... a Thai-Chinese, just someone with a Chinese name."

I was thinking, aren't they still our people? How can you say they aren't? Isn't that forgetting your roots?

In Chen Xiaomiao's simple mindset, you belong to wherever your ancestors are; it's a matter of course.

Lu Yuan put down his cutlery and explained gently, "Xiao Miao, you can't look at this like that."

"Then how do we see it?"

"Think about it, why did you travel all the way west from your hometown?"

Chen Xiaomiao answered without hesitation.

"We're fleeing! Our home has been destroyed by disaster, and the Japanese devils are attacking again. If we don't run, we'll die!"

"correct."

Lu Yuan nodded: "They were the same. Back then, there was constant war in their homeland, and people often starved to death. In order to survive, countless people left their homes and came to Southeast Asia to make a living."

Chen Xiaomiao blinked, didn't say anything, and unconsciously poked at the rice in her bowl with her chopsticks.

Lu Yuan continued, "Even after we drove the Japanese away, there were still many unpleasant things in the world. There were wars here and famines there. These were things that ordinary people like us could not control."

Being able to settle down outside, get married, have children, and keep the whole family alive is already incredibly difficult.

He paused, his tone softening.

“You think he’s ungrateful, but think about it, almost a hundred years have passed, and so much has happened. He still has a Chinese name and is willing to admit that he is a descendant of Chinese people. In his heart, he’s actually quite close to us.” Chen Xiaomiao pouted and said sullenly, “It’s all those little devils’ fault! If it weren’t for them, none of us would have had to run away!”

Lu Yuan laughed and shook his head.

"We can't blame them all. In the end, it's all about who has the bigger fist and who has the most say... As the saying goes, if you fall behind, you'll be beaten."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the distant sea.

"If we could completely restore the glory of our ancestors during the Han and Tang dynasties, and the country were prosperous and the people strong, we would be the most powerful nation in the world."

Believe it or not, everyone in Southeast Asia, from top to bottom, is vying to claim Chinese ancestry and is desperately trying to claim kinship with us.

Chen Xiaomiao gave a vague "oh," her indignation fading and replaced by a deeper sense of bewilderment.

She suddenly asked, "Back then, were our people doing well in Southeast Asia?"

"not too good."

Lu Yuan shook his head and sighed, "Those in Thailand are considered good, but what about the rest of Southeast Asia..."

After he briefly recounted that period of history, Chen Xiaomiao had completely lost her appetite.

She picked up the champagne on the table, popped the cork, and the amber liquid gushed into the stemmed glass, the foam bubbling and overflowing the rim.

He tilted his head back and took a big gulp, choking on the bubbles and wincing in pain.

After a few drinks, her fair face gradually flushed, and her eyes became hazy.

Lu Yuan watched her drink one cup after another, but didn't stop her.

It's a rare treat to get out of the house, so let the girl have a bit of a drunken spree.

As night deepened, the waiter quietly removed the tableware.

The moonlight, like water, bathed the beach in a silvery white glow.

A tipsy Chen Xiaomiao came to the beach, picked up a twig, and began to write on the wet sand with a flick of her wrist.

The strokes are vigorous and powerful, penetrating the sand; each stroke seems to be a lament vomited from the chest.

This arm was broken sixty years ago; though one part is gone, the rest of my body is intact.

Even now, on this windy, cold night, I remain awake in pain until dawn.

I suffer sleepless nights, yet I have no regrets; I am glad that I am old and alone now.

Otherwise, at Lushuitou, he would have died, his soul scattered, and his bones never returned.

He should become a ghost longing for home in Yunnan, weeping bitterly at the gravesite of ten thousand men.

Sixty-nine characters, written in one go.

After finishing the last stroke, Chen Xiaomiao seemed to have all her strength drained away, and the branch in her hand snapped with a "crack".

Her body went limp, and she slumped to the ground, looking up at the dark blue night sky, letting out a long breath reeking of alcohol.

“Lu Yuan…”

"Ah."

Will we ever go to war again?

"I don't know, maybe."

"Can we win?"

"can!"

A white wave surged onto the beach, gently licking the words on the sand.

As the waves receded, half of the poems on the sand became blurred.

Another wave surges in, then recedes.

The beach was smooth again, and everything had vanished...

(End of this chapter)