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墨書 Inktalez
In mid-July, it was the most unbearable time of summer.
The scorching sun baked the earth, and the cracked cement road was lined with fissures. This was an old road, long neglected, with cracks revealing the parched yellow soil beneath. The heat seemed to squeeze out the last drop of moisture from the ground.
The aging cement road stretched ahead, leading into an equally ancient street lined with two- or three-story buildings. Such neighborhoods were rare in the new era, overshadowed by towering skyscrapers, making them seem out of place.
There were two types of people living in such places: first, those who had lived here for a long time, unable to leave, hoping for relocation to bigger houses; second, those whose lives were so unfortunate that they had no other place to live. This area was dilapidated, and its rent was correspondingly cheap.
In any case, this was a rundown place that seemed almost disconnected from the world; normal people did not want to stay here.
Since Azure Planet entered the Interstellar Era, such aging areas had gradually diminished. Today, there were very few left, and some scholars even proposed listing this place as part of "intangible cultural heritage." However, that proposal did not pass; this area was destined for demolition.
This old street had a name that matched its condition: Earthen Slope Street.
The three characters "Earthen Slope Street" were printed on a worn wooden sign. It was unclear how many times the sign had been replaced; once it was announced that demolition would occur, the street management office lost interest in replacing it.
The weather-beaten wooden sign was in such poor condition that only faint traces of the words "Earthen Slope Street" could be seen.
Below the sign were two rusted iron poles, severely corroded and looking like they could collapse at any moment—truly a high-risk structure.
However, on this dilapidated Old Street appeared an incomprehensible scene: hundreds of flying luxury cars parked on both sides of the street, while a long line of people formed in the center. Among the crowd were all kinds of individuals—plainly dressed ordinary people, well-dressed elites, and even Interstellar Warriors clad in light armor!
Such a scene would typically occur only in the most prosperous areas of a metropolis but was happening here on this Old Street, leaving many puzzled. While the arrival of suited individuals might be understandable, the presence of Interstellar Warriors drew curious glances from passersby and sparked endless speculation.
Interstellar Warriors were a new profession that emerged after humanity entered the stars. They based their skills on ancient martial arts and practiced various mystical techniques to achieve their goal of martial prowess in space.
Those who mastered their training became exceptional individuals capable of flying through the air and surviving in extremely harsh environments.
Legend has it that those among the strongest in space could shatter planets with a single punch... The power and status of Interstellar Warriors were beyond imagination.
There is a saying: "Where there are Interstellar Warriors, there is glory!"
……
If someone is unclear about the situation on Old Street, they might approach and ask, "Hey! Buddy, what's going on up ahead?"
The person being asked happens to be a resident of Old Street. He clears his throat and then tells you in a loud voice, "These folks are all here to eat noodles! No need to be surprised; just look around and you'll get used to it!"
"Eating noodles? What’s so special about the noodles here on this Old Street that even Interstellar Warriors come to try them?"
At this point, the resident of Old Street would glare at the newcomer and shout, "Country bumpkin! You don’t even know Earthen Slope Street? You don’t even know the Noodle Shop on Earthen Slope Street?! Don’t you watch Live Streaming?"
As this old resident mentioned, Live Streaming has become a popular entertainment program across the entire Star System. Ever since Azure Planet introduced this project into the interstellar realm, more and more intelligent beings have enjoyed this way of showcasing themselves.
Zhimuxing People like to do Live Streaming during childbirth (which means giving birth), believing that it captures the most important moment of their lives. Other curious life forms would come to observe and see how a Tree Person gives birth!
At that time, one particular Tree Person became extremely popular, but later the Interstellar Federation began regulating Live Streaming, classifying childbirth as a prohibited activity for streaming. Consequently, Zhimuxing People gradually faded from the memories of interstellar netizens.
The rules for Live Streaming became increasingly strict; it became harder and harder to gain fame through unusual methods. There are countless Streamers, but becoming popular is increasingly difficult.
In this environment where everyone in the galaxy started Live Streaming, there was a remarkable individual on Earthen Slope Street who became famous!
Of course, he wasn’t the kind of “interstellar mega Streamer” who was known throughout the galaxy; he was simply a well-known “City Broadcaster” in this city.
Even so, that was enough for the neighbors of Old Street to boast about. To become a successful Streamer in this era requires either great luck or genuine talent.
The person in front of you is someone who possesses both luck and talent; it would be hard for him not to succeed!
……
Following the long line that winds ahead, you can see a Noodle Shop at the end.
Noodle Shop Indeed, it's a pity for the people. If there is a shop of fifty or sixty square meters divided by partitions, the front is the Noodle Shop serving customers, with seven or eight simple long tables crowded together, it feels like returning to the time before the Interstellar Era—when roadside shops were like this, with a few simple tables and chairs, some barbecue skewers, and a couple of bottles of beer to enjoy. Such shops were commonly referred to as "Dai Pai Dong."
The shop's facade was already sufficient, but now it was bustling with people. The crowd felt like it could burst the shop at any moment. It was the kind of situation where you might suddenly hear a loud "bang," and the entire Noodle Shop would explode.
In the narrow space, dozens of people were crammed together, all sweating profusely and panting as if they were in a battle. Once you stepped into this shop, regardless of your status, all decorum and manners disappeared; everyone just wanted to rush to the front to buy a bowl of noodles!
Even an Interstellar Warrior was no exception. Some hot-tempered individuals would shout, "Move aside! Move aside! Or I'll start hitting people!" But no one paid him any mind; regulars knew that in the Noodle Shop, there were no identities or statuses—only noodle eaters and noodle makers.
The noodle eaters were those who jostled each other for space. You couldn't resort to violence; however you managed to secure a spot was up to you. If you got a seat, you could eat; if not... well, sorry, come back tomorrow. But if you couldn't get a spot today, there was a high chance you wouldn't get one tomorrow either because the Noodle Shop only sold one hundred bowls of noodles—no more, no less! No one could change that!
As for the noodle makers, that would be Chef Brother Lin inside—the owner of the Noodle Shop, Lin.
The Noodle Shop was separated from the kitchen by only a glass wall, allowing those outside to clearly see what was happening inside.
The kitchen was as simple as the Noodle Shop outside—a traditional stove relying on gas for cooking. On the stove sat a large pot, bubbling vigorously with boiling water that created columns of steam.
This kitchen resembled a giant steamer, especially in such hot summer weather during midday when the blazing sun could practically turn someone into jerky.
However, Lin seemed unaffected. He showed little sign of sweat on his body; only fine beads of perspiration dotted his forehead—not due to the heat of the kitchen but from focused fatigue.
As they say, a calm mind brings coolness. A qualified chef never feels the heat next to the stove.
This young man appeared to be around seventeen or eighteen years old, just shedding his youthful innocence. He had fine fuzz on his upper lip and fair skin; he was handsome but not in an overly striking way—just very pleasant to look at, with an increasingly captivating charm.
Half of this charm came from his streamlined physique. The young man wore a sleeveless shirt that revealed strong arms—not bulging muscles but rather a smoothness typical of East Asians, resembling the lines of a Sports Car, solid yet filled with explosive power that belied his appearance.
The other half of his charm came from his focused gaze. His dark eyes were fixed intently on the dough in his hands; every knead and motion was precise—too much or too little would spoil it.
Men who are focused on their work are at their most attractive; indeed, Lin was in such a state now.
His kneading technique was unique, with his fingers dancing over the dough. Each twist infused the dough with vitality; it seemed alive in his hands, as if it were struggling rather than being manipulated by him.
Every joint in the boy's hands moved, whether grasping, pinching, or pressing. There seemed to be a deeper meaning to this technique, reminiscent of... ancient martial arts?
The dough continued to bounce in the boy's hands, while his expression remained calm and somewhat dazed. His face appeared lost in thought, but the focus in his eyes revealed that he was completely absorbed in... kneading!
He kneaded the dough for a full five minutes. Gradually, his complex movements simplified, becoming more concise, as if he were concluding a performance.
When his palms finally formed fists, his calm expression suddenly changed. In an instant, his gaze shifted from focused to sharp, like a knife revealing its edge!
"Swish!"
That piercing gaze turned toward the edge of the left countertop, where a sharp kitchen knife lay glinting coldly, clearly polished many times to achieve such a shine.
With a swift motion of his left hand, like a darting rabbit, he flicked the knife into the air. He then caught it in his left hand and followed the grain of the dough as he brought it down in a series of swift cuts.
The speed of his slicing reached an extraordinary level for an ordinary person; it flowed together like silver Phantom Shadow, "swish swish swish" as it sliced through the dough. An ordinary person would hardly be able to see how many cuts he made.
Once finished, the knife's gleam faded.
Lin Quan's spirit visibly relaxed, and one could see his shoulders loosen.
With a crisp sound, the knife was pressed into the countertop by his left hand. His hand rested on the handle, fingers loosely gripping it as they trembled slightly in the air—this was the fatigue after exertion.
This method of making dough was nothing short of miraculous; it resembled a martial arts performance more than cooking. Even the sharpness with which the boy wielded the knife rivaled the momentum of an Interstellar Warrior during battle.
Those paying close attention noticed that Lin's only flaw in this performance was that he used his left hand for cutting; being left-handed posed some limitations that prevented him from reaching his full potential.
Lin's expression relaxed for just that moment; in the next instant, he returned to his calm wooden face and gently poked at the dough with his finger.
Although the dough had been cut with a knife, there were no visible marks left behind. If it weren't for the fact that the boy had indeed sliced through the dough earlier, one might suspect he was just waving the knife around aimlessly.
The moment the boy's fingers touched the dough, it quivered lightly, rippling outward like jelly, trembling with each touch!
"Wow!"
Suddenly, the dough burst open like a beautiful flower, strands of translucent noodles cascading to the side, perfectly forming the shape of a blossom, layered and stacked—a truly captivating piece of art!
Such noodles would be something no one would want to eat! To consume them would be a waste!
Despite this stunning creation, Lin appeared somewhat dissatisfied. His brows furrowed slightly, and his thin lips pressed tightly together as he pondered what he wanted.
"Stop dawdling! Bro! I counted for you just now; your Left-Handed Blade is still at ninety-nine, not yet a hundred! Don't get too hung up on it; you can't rush your training! Hurry up and get these two portions into the pot; if you don't, they won't taste good!"
Before Lin could respond, a dark mass squeezed through the serving window—a plump figure. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a human face!
Standing outside the partition was a man no taller than five feet three inches but weighing over two hundred pounds—a Fat Black Man. He was round and pudgy, truly a "meatball"! His vertical length seemed proportional to his height!
A pristine white apron hung from his hefty frame, emblazoned with "Noodle Shop," looking more like a child's bib on him—ridiculously amusing.
Turning to look at Lin, he noticed that Lin was wearing an identical apron. It seemed this was the Noodle Shop's uniform.
As for this Fat Black Man, not only was he a server at the Noodle Shop, but he was also Lin's friend named Chen Youliang. He was indeed heavy and substantial... No wonder his father named him that; it seemed he had known he would grow up to be this way.
With a shiny black complexion and bright eyes, his ancestors hailed from Africa before the Interstellar Era and were among the rare pure black individuals today.
Hearing the Fat Black Man's urging, Lin relaxed his brows and his expression became calm. He muttered softly, "Ninety-nine cuts; Left-Handed Blade is still one cut short..."
After murmuring that, he sighed. There was no time for reflection now because if they waited any longer like this Fat Black Man suggested, the noodles would become overcooked and unfit for consumption—not even suitable for feeding dogs.
"Hey! Two orders of Cool Summer Noodles with Fried Sauce, into the pot!"
Lin tidied up his mood and lightly called out, simultaneously lifting the cutting board with his right hand and giving it a gentle shake, causing the noodles to slide off into the pot. At that moment, each noodle was separated, not sticking together, appearing crystal clear like potato or sweet potato vermicelli.
As for the earlier nickname "Hey," it was Lin's term of endearment for the person he was addressing. Rather than calling him Chen Youliang, Lin preferred to call him "Hey" or simply "Black."
"Alright, Gentlemen! The last two orders of Cool Summer Noodles with Fried Sauce are in the pot! One is for you, Poverty Old Man, and one is for me! Haha! Other guests, please come early tomorrow!"
Fatty shouted in his sharp voice, reminiscent of an ancient tavern runner. After finishing his announcement, he smiled at an old man in front of him, who returned the smile. It seemed they were old acquaintances.
Their smiles were somewhat lewd; one was a wrinkled old man and the other was the greasy Fatty. The sight of them smiling at each other was quite unappealing.
After a moment of laughter, Fatty seemed to remember something and ran outside to flip a wooden sign above the door. The sign consisted of three sets of numbers, each ranging from 0 to 9, forming numbers from 0 to 999, similar to a scoreboard in ancient football fields.
However, this was not a scoreboard; it represented how many bowls of noodles were left for sale that day. Since today's sign had already turned to 0, it meant they were sold out!
As soon as the sign was flipped, the crowd outside erupted. Those who hadn't managed to buy noodles complained loudly, some calling for Lin to make another thousand servings, others shouting that they would pay a high price for the last spot, while some had already resigned themselves to disappointment and planned to come early tomorrow.
Fatty smiled; he had seen this scene countless times before. He waved his hands a few times and shouted loudly, "Everyone, please remain calm! It's hot out; getting upset won't do you any good! Gentlemen, please come early tomorrow!"
Clearly, Fatty's words had little effect; the crowd remained chaotic. Many were still shouting, "Fatty Chen, all you do is talk nonsense! Of course you'll get the last serving since you have the stove going; we can't even get a taste of Cool Summer Noodles with Fried Sauce!"
At this shout, Fatty chuckled awkwardly and felt embarrassed. The crowd below became even more agitated, resembling a noisy group of frogs croaking loudly.
Just then, Lin's voice suddenly floated out from inside the shop, cold as ice.
"Everyone doesn't need to come anymore! After today, the Noodle Shop will be closing! We're done!"
This statement fell like a bucket of cold water on the crowd outside, instantly silencing the previously noisy scene. One moment there had been a cacophony of croaking frogs; the next moment it was dead silent.
A cold breath rose from the soles of everyone's feet to their spines, more refreshing than eating ten popsicles.
At this moment, it seemed as if air conditioning had been turned on outside the Noodle Shop, driving away the scorching heat of summer from this area, leaving only a chill in everyone's hearts, as if frost were to cover this place.
……
……
On the outskirts of Earthen Slope Street, the new onlookers were unaware of what had happened. They stood on tiptoe to look inside and only saw a group of silent people in front of the old two-story building, each with a long face, as if they had received a terminal diagnosis.
Above the first floor Noodle Shop, there hung a worn wooden sign with the rustic characters "Noodle Shop" inscribed on it.
The wind blew, stirring the tassels beneath the sign, swaying gently. The bells at the bottom jingled, their crisp sound brushing against the heart and alleviating some of the summer heat.
A passerby who had just gathered information stood on tiptoe, looking at the ordinary noodle shop with a furrowed brow, muttering in confusion.
"Noodle Shop... Cool Summer Noodles with Fried Sauce... What makes it so captivating? What does it taste like?"
……
Cool Summer Noodles with Fried Sauce is said to be a magical dish that can make one feel cool all summer long. What could its flavor possibly be?
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