Chapter 89

Emily Johnson stepped into the kitchen and was startled by the sight of a boy as thin as a bamboo pole. The boy, about five feet tall with sun-darkened skin glistening in the sunlight, stood awkwardly by the stove.

"Hello..." she greeted softly.

Brown sugar dissolved slowly in the ginger tea, filling the air with sweetness.

"Have a bowl too," Emily said, handing the bowl to the boy.

Michael Stone quickly chimed in, "I'll have some, I'll have some."

Ethan Miller carefully accepted the bowl. The sweetness of the sugar tempered the ginger's sharpness, and as he took small sips, his eyes lit up. It was only the second time in his memory he had tasted something sweet.

Charles Clark barged in energetically, carrying fishing gear. "Third Brother, I brought back all the fish!"

"Sister-in-law..." He scratched his head sheepishly.

"There's more ginger tea in the pot. Come have a bowl," Emily offered.

Charles wrinkled his nose. He hated the taste of ginger tea. But under Michael's sharp glance, he had no choice but to step forward reluctantly.

"Huh?" Discovering the brown sugar in the tea, Charles brightened and downed the bowl in one gulp. "Third Brother, Sister-in-law, I'll go change first."

"Go ahead."

Emily eagerly peered into the bucket. Murky water swirled with several crucian carp and common carp, while tiny fish and shrimp darted between them. The most eye-catching was a silver carp over a pound in weight, its scales glinting under the sunlight.

"Fish soup?" she suggested.

Michael leaned close to her ear. "The big one for sour fish stew, the small ones for soup."

Before Emily could respond, a loud growl erupted from Ethan's stomach. The boy flushed crimson and clutched his belly in embarrassment.

"I..."

"Go play with David and Tommy," Emily said gently. "Leave the kitchen to your Third Brother."

Ethan gave her a grateful look and followed her out.

"Ethan!" The two little boys rushed over excitedly.

Emily poured half a mug of powdered milk. "David, share your snacks with Ethan."

David immediately pulled out a breadstick and handed it to Ethan. The boy swallowed hard but pushed the malt drink back toward the children.

"We've had ours. You drink it, Ethan," Tommy said in his tiny voice.

"Go on, it'll spoil if you leave it too long," Emily urged.

Ethan took a cautious sip, and his eyes widened in amazement. It was even sweeter than the brown sugar water—a flavor he'd never experienced before.

At lunchtime, Ethan's hands trembled as he held his bowl. It was his first full meal after the harvest. Though mixed with sweet potatoes, rice made up most of it. The aroma of the sour fish stew made him devour two bowls.

"Don't just eat the pickled vegetables—have more fish," Emily said, serving him another helping.

Michael watched enviously as his wife piled food onto Ethan's plate while his own bowl remained empty.

Only then did Emily notice her husband's pitiful gaze. Smiling, she placed half a fish head in his bowl. "Eat up!"

A fish head was still something. Michael grinned to himself—it was the first time his wife had ever served him food.