I started on a deserted island and encountered Ying Zheng, who insisted I was an immortal.

While skewering the meat, Zhang Ying, bored out of her mind, began to mutter to herself.

"A mountain is not famous for its height, but for the immortals who dwell there."

"It is not the depth of the water that matters, but the presence of a dragon that makes it sacred."

Ying Zheng was holding a small handful of roasted peanuts, eating them one by one, when he heard these two sentences and stopped what he was doing.

He turned his head and gestured to Meng Yi beside him.

Meng Yi understood immediately, quickly spread out linen paper, picked up a willow-twig pen, and solemnly began to record.

The casual words of a disciple of the immortals always carry profound meaning.

Zhang Ying didn't notice their little actions at all; he was simply bored.

After spending too much time in modern society, getting close to nature occasionally is a pleasure, but after being stranded on this deserted island for three years, even the most beautiful scenery becomes tiresome.

He glanced at the three old men.

Good heavens, they're all sitting with their legs crossed, eating peanuts, looking all relaxed and waiting for dinner.

My temper flared up instantly.

Hey! I'm talking to you guys!

Zhang Ying threw the meat skewers in her hand into the ceramic plate and shouted irritably.

"Don't just stand around, come and help skewer the meat!"

Wang Ben and Meng Yi were startled and quickly put down the peanuts they were holding and stood up.

Ying Zheng snapped out of his thoughts, glanced at Zhang Ying, then at the mountain of mutton, and stood up without saying anything.

The two of them followed Zhang Ying's example, picking up wooden skewers and mutton, and clumsily skewering them.

As Meng Yi walked along, he approached Zhang Ying and asked curiously, "Sir, was there any follow-up to those two sentences?"

"What happened next?"

Zhang Ying thought for a moment and then blurted it out.

"This is a humble abode, but my virtue makes it fragrant."

As he skewered the meat, he recited poems while swaying his head, just to pass the time.

"Everyone has their own unique talents, and though a fortune may be spent, it will return."

"A waterfall plunges three thousand feet, as if the Milky Way were falling from the ninth heaven."

With each sentence he read, Meng Yi's hands slowed down a little, and his expression became a little more blank.

When Zhang Ying recited, "Have you not seen the Yellow River's waters come from the sky, rushing to the sea never to return?"

"Clatter".

Ying Zheng dropped the peanuts in his hand all over the ground.

Ignoring the mutton and blood on his hands, he snatched the willow pen and linen paper from Meng Yi's hand.

"I will record this!"

His voice was filled with an indescribable excitement as he personally copied down every single line of poetry that Zhang Ying had recited.

Such literary talent, such spirit!

He is not just a disciple of immortals, but a genius whose name will be remembered for thousands of years!

With the addition of three strong laborers, efficiency improved considerably.

More than 30 kilograms of mutton, with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, were quickly skewered into more than 300 bright red meat skewers and arranged on a ceramic plate, making one's mouth water just by looking at them.

"Old Wang, stop wandering around and go fan the fire over there."

Zhang Ying gave the order.

"Remember, keep the wind even and move gently, don't blow the charcoal fire all over the place."

Wang Ben accepted the task, took a tattered palm-leaf fan, and carefully fanned himself next to the barbecue grill.

Zhang Ying spread the first batch of skewered mutton on the barbecue grill.

He took out a small ceramic bowl containing a golden liquid, which was peanut oil that he had painstakingly extracted. He only had a few dozen kilograms of it in stock, and he was reluctant to use it even for cooking.

Use a simple brush made from a willow twig, dip it in peanut oil, and brush it evenly onto each lamb skewer.

"Sizzle—"

The mutton made a delightful sizzling sound as it touched the charcoal fire.

The oil was forced out by the high temperature and dripped onto the scalding charcoal, igniting a small cluster of flames. A rich aroma, a mixture of chili, meat, and charcoal, quickly filled the cave.

This smell is domineering, arrogant, and unreasonable.

"Gulp."

Ying Zheng, Meng Yi, and Wang Ben, three people from three different directions, all swallowed hard at the same time.

Their eyes were wide open, staring intently at the lamb skewers sizzling on the fire, their Adam's apples bobbing uncontrollably.

The fragrance seemed to have a life of its own, penetrating the nostrils and making one's heart itch and one's stomach pound.

Zhang Ying methodically turned the meat skewers, watching the surface of the meat gradually turn golden brown and ooze out golden-red oil.

In the final step before taking it out of the pot, he brushed on a thin layer of honey.

The high temperature caramelizes the honey instantly, giving the lamb skewers a complex sweet aroma.

The first batch of more than twenty skewers is ready.

Zhang Ying placed them in a clean earthenware dish.

The plate had just been placed on the stone table.

Ying Zheng reached out and grabbed a string of them with a speed completely out of character for his status.

"Hiss—ha—"

The scalding hot meat skewers made him grimace, but he didn't care and just opened his mouth and took a big bite.

Tear the crispy outer layer with your teeth, and the tender lamb and rich fat inside burst open in your mouth.

Salty, fragrant, spicy, sweet, and with the unique aroma of cumin, the various flavors blended perfectly together, tantalizing his taste buds.

Grease dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he was completely unaware.

"It smells so good! It smells amazing!"

He mumbled his praises, and finished off a skewer in just a few bites.

"This is what real mutton is!"

Ying Zheng grabbed another string of them and cursed fiercely.

"What kind of pig swill are those cooks in the palace making! They should all be dragged out and beaten to death!"

On the other side, Wang Ben had long since abandoned his duty of fanning the fire. He threw down his palm-leaf fan, pounced on the table, and grabbed meat skewers with both hands, stuffing them into his mouth.

Meng Yi also completely abandoned the demeanor of a high-ranking official, his movements no slower than Wang Ben's, eating one skewer after another, his mouth dripping with oil.

......

More than two hundred mutton skewers were swept away in a flash.

Even the last bit of meat on the skewer was licked clean by Wang Ben.

Looking at the three men who were burping and looking like they hadn't had enough, Zhang Ying had only one thought in her mind: Were these three reincarnated starving ghosts?

Ying Zheng picked his teeth with a sharpened wooden skewer and slowly commented, "The flavor is rich and the meat is tender; it is truly a delicacy."

He paused, then added, "But that honey is too precious. When roasting it in the future, use less to avoid waste."

Wang Ben chimed in, "Yes, yes, yes! Less honey, more chili! It's not spicy enough!"

Zhang Ying rolled her eyes at the sound of it.

Good grief, they start giving feedback now that they've eaten their fill.

Especially Wang Ben, that blockhead. A couple of days ago, he ate some stir-fried eggs with chili peppers and was so spicy that he had to run around looking for water to drink. Now he's complaining that there aren't enough chili peppers.

Those who eat for free have so many demands.

As everyone was chatting, the pot of mutton bone soup was finally ready on the fire at the other end of the cave.

Zhang Ying walked over and carefully skimmed off the foam from the soup noodles with a large wooden spoon.

An intensely rich, milky-white aroma instantly overwhelmed the lingering smoky scent of barbecue.

He moved a specially made large earthenware pot to the center of the stone table.

He put a lot of effort into making this pot. The bottom of the pot is hollow with ventilation holes, so that red-hot charcoal can be placed inside, which can reduce smoke and keep the soup in the pot heated.