Chapter 175: Sea Greens

Since arriving here, Jian Mo hadn’t eaten any seafood yet—though he’d had plenty of river catch.

Wild river fish tasted great: fresh, sweet, tender, with hardly any fishiness. Going by that experience, he couldn’t help looking forward to the stone-grilled long-arm shrimp and crabs now sizzling before him.

The cooking was extremely rustic: clean the translucent flesh, set it back into the shell, then place the shells on a hot stone slab.

As they grilled, the crab and shrimp turned white in a flash, sending up waves of sweetness and aroma.

A Chuxing tribesman glanced over and said, “They’re ready.”

Unfamiliar with seafood, Jian Mo asked, “Don’t we need to cook them more?”

“No,” came the reply. “Any more and they’ll get tough.”

With that, they lifted the just-whitened meats—shells and all—and handed portions to Jian Mo and Wu Jiong.

“Doctor Jian Mo, Chief Wu Jiong—guests first. Try our tribe’s crab and shrimp.”

They hurried to thank them and accepted. Xing Jiu kindly set dipping sauces in front of them.

“You can taste the meat plain first, then try it with sauce.”

“Alright,” Jian Mo said.

He picked up a crab leg. Fresh off the stone, the crab was fragrant and tender, melting on the tongue. Even without seasoning, it carried a faint natural brininess—maybe the sea—and was anything but bland.

The flesh was especially plump—plenty of it, rich and satisfying.

“Delicious,” Jian Mo praised. “This is the best crab I’ve ever had.”

Xing Jiu handed a crab leg each to Chirchirp and Ying’ao to gnaw, then turned back with a smile.

“If you like it, eat more. We don’t have much else here, but fish, shrimp, and crab—we’ve got loads.”

Someone from the Chuxing Tribe chuckled, “Yeah, we’re a little sick of it, honestly.”

“You’re making me jealous,” Jian Mo said.

“When you head back,” Xing Jiu offered, “take some dried fish, shrimp, and crab. Sometimes we do special hunts, and whatever we can’t finish we dry into ‘sea preserves.’ Those work as medicine too—good tonic foods for the weak.”

“I noticed,” Jian Mo nodded. “One of the prescriptions you gave me the day before yesterday uses dried shellfish to strengthen the body.”

“Right,” Xing Jiu said, amused. “Good memory.”

“It’s a good formula,” Jian Mo said. “I’m making sure to remember it.”

The seafood was already excellent plain; dipped in the sour-salty sauce, it took on a different, dazzling character.

Jian Mo and Wu Jiong ate quite a bit, seated among the crowd.

Seeing how much they enjoyed it, Xing Jiu said he’d take them the next day to harvest sea greens at the seabed—those could treat swollen necks.

Jian Mo hadn’t expected that remedy. “I know a bit about that—that’s the iodine in sea greens doing the work.”

Xing Jiu shrugged. “We didn’t know the why. It’s an old formula—been used forever, and it works. We hardly see swollen necks around here. Since your home is far from the sea, you’ll probably need it.”

Jian Mo nodded repeatedly. “We definitely will. You’re very thoughtful.”

“It’s nothing,” Xing Jiu waved it off. “Since you’re interested, we’ll show you around before you head home.”

The healer training here wasn’t what Jian Mo had imagined. They didn’t compile textbooks and teach lesson by lesson. Instead, a teacher kept students close and taught whatever came up in daily life.

Everyone lived in the same place; if something didn’t click during training, graduates could still come back and ask the master when they hit a snag.

With no formal syllabi to speak of, they couldn’t conjure one up for Jian Mo either. The only way was the traditional way—take him everywhere, let him see and do, and teach whatever problems appeared.

Though he and Wu Jiong hadn’t been here long, this hands-on style had already made them feel at home. It was fun and not exhausting—Jian Mo genuinely liked it.

The next morning, Jian Mo and Wu Jiong checked on Fen Hui first.

His complexion was closer to normal, he’d put on some weight, and at this pace he’d be fully recovered before long.

Fen Hui wasn’t very close with the Chuxing folks, and still felt most at ease with Jian Mo and Wu Jiong.

“Doctor Jian Mo, Chief Wu Jiong—why don’t you take me out with you? I feel bad doing nothing here.”

Jian Mo smiled. “Didn’t Doctor Xing Yi tell you to finish your decoctions, get sun, and rest? There will be plenty of time to work later—no need to rush now.”

“It’s just… when I see everyone working, I get uneasy,” Fen Hui admitted.

“You’re the patient,” Jian Mo said, patting his shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. Focus on healing. If you’re mostly well before we head home, you can help when we haul things back.”

“Alright,” Fen Hui nodded.

After checking on him, Jian Mo and Wu Jiong went to meet Xing Jiu.

“Today we should be able to gather more,” Xing Jiu said as soon as he saw them. “Everyone bring two extra baskets.”

“No problem,” Jian Mo replied. “Chirchirp and Ying’ao are coming—they can help carry. We can bring as many baskets as you like.”

Xing Jiu laughed. “As long as you’re happy.”

A whole group set out to collect.

By now Jian Mo had the pattern: situated by the sea like their own mountain tribe by the forests, the Chuxing people foraged outside most days—their “outside” just happened to be the ocean.

For sea greens, they’d head to a different, shallower stretch today. Jian Mo and Wu Jiong were fine with anything—where the guide went, they followed.

They walked a long way along the coast, finally arriving at a place dotted with small islets.

Tidal water flowed between shore and isles. The water was clear and fairly shallow—four to five meters at most.

“This area only gets fully submerged in summer and autumn,” Xing Jiu explained, “so lots of sea greens grow below. Our people don’t love eating them; we come only occasionally. Dried, a single harvest lasts a year.”

Jian Mo understood. “When meat’s available, we prefer meat too.”

“Right?” Xing Jiu grinned. “Let’s dive and cut sea greens. Just hack away—roots and all is fine. They grow back quickly even if you rip them up.”

“We’ve got it,” Jian Mo said.

Xing Jiu glanced at Chirchirp and Ying’ao. “Have them wait here?”

“Sure,” Jian Mo said. “I’ll tell them not to make mischief.”

They could understand most of what he said. Told to stay, Chirchirp pouted but squatted obediently under a tree with Ying’ao to wait.

With the beasts settled, Jian Mo dove with the others.

There were so many sea greens—dense, lush, thick blades stretching from one end of the shallows to the other. It felt like an underwater prairie.

With a few casual cuts of his dagger, Jian Mo had an armful.

No wonder everyone wasn’t keen on sea greens; with this much, you could eat forever and never finish.

While cutting, he noticed many shellfish beneath, including some abalone-like ones—only these “abalone” were much larger than any he’d seen, easily palm-sized at a glance.

During a breathing break he grabbed two at random and surfaced.

“Are these edible?” he asked the Chuxing people.

“Edible, sure,” one said, “but not very tasty. Takes ages to stew them tender.”

Another added, “They don’t have much flavor—just a hint of umami. We don’t really like them.”

“You don’t?” Jian Mo blinked.

“Don’t like them,” the man corrected. “If there’s nothing else to eat, even the bad shellfish get eaten.”

Jian Mo hadn’t expected abalone to be so disrespected. He looked at the two in his hands. “Then I’ll take them.”

“You can,” Xing Jiu swam over. “They treat swollen necks too. But they’re too big—hard to dry whole. We’d have to slice them small first, and that’s a hassle.”

“I don’t mind hassle,” Jian Mo said, eyeing the hefty abalone.

Since he didn’t mind, no one objected. As they dove to cut more greens, whenever someone spotted abalone they scooped them up for him.

Jian Mo and Wu Jiong didn’t go out of their way to hunt them, but by the time they finished harvesting sea greens, they’d filled two baskets with abalone.

Jian Mo hugged a basket, grinning ear to ear.

Xing Jiu was baffled. “They really don’t taste good.”

“Maybe,” Jian Mo said, “it takes a more complicated prep to make them shine.”

“That I don’t get,” Xing Jiu said. “Plenty of foods taste great cooked simply—why complicate it?”

Jian Mo wasn’t sure how to answer.

Wu Jiong spoke up beside him. “Because we look forward to life. Even if a dish takes extra steps, it’s worth making.”

Xing Jiu laughed. “Then take them. But fair warning—treat them quickly after you get back. Leave them too long and they’ll stink.”

“I’ll handle them as soon as we’re home,” Jian Mo promised.

“Aren’t you copying prescriptions?” Xing Jiu asked.

“I can do the abalone,” Wu Jiong said. “Leave it to me.”

They’d gathered a lot. On the way back, Chirchirp and Ying’ao volunteered to carry several baskets, so the trip home wasn’t hard on anyone.

Back at the tribe, everyone split the sea greens and headed home to process them.

Xing Jiu reminded Jian Mo and Wu Jiong that sea greens only needed to be spread somewhere clean to sun-dry—no complications necessary.

They agreed.

He added he’d come after dinner to continue dictating prescriptions.

Jian Mo promised they’d work fast and be ready by evening.

Wu Jiong took the initiative. “How do you want these abalone handled?”

“Shuck them, remove the innards, rinse clean,” Jian Mo said. “Then salt them lightly. I’ll work on them after I finish copying.”

“Looks like you know what you’re doing,” Wu Jiong said.

Crouching, Jian Mo grinned up at him. “Not really—just roughly. Anyway, it’s nothing rare. I’ll give it a try.”

“You’re already doing great,” Wu Jiong said, setting to work on the abalone.