I was strolling along the coast, gathering inspiration, when my stomach suddenly started rumbling. As luck would have it, I bumped into a few coastal cooks who told me to come here. They promised there would be food waiting, and they wouldn't even charge me a single copper...
And they were right! The moment I stepped into the village, a warm, energetic young lad rushed up to greet me and dragged me toward a massive courtyard. Without asking for my name or where I came from, he urged me to take a seat and began rattling off a long list of dishes. Before I could even catch the names, I saw it: a massive ring of roaring stoves right in the middle of the courtyard!
The villagers were gathered tightly around. The smoke, the sizzling of oil, and the mouth-watering aromas all mixed together. People were stir-frying, tossing heavy woks, and drizzling rich sauces. It was a spectacular scene of bustling life! Even though I don't know the first thing about cooking, my hands were itching to grab a spatula and give it a toss myself.
Sweet and Sour Carp, Four-Joy Meatballs, Leek-Braised Sea Cucumber, Hibiscus Chicken, Braised Chitterlings... Plate after plate arrived at the table, and not a single dish was repeated! Heavens above, there was so much glorious food that my eyes were dazzled, and I didn't even know where to point my chopsticks first.
Everything about this village is wonderful. The locals are warm, generous, and incredibly friendly. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that something is a bit strange. The disciples of the Inkbound Order here look somehow different from the ones I've seen elsewhere... Oh! I've got it! None of them are wearing veils! What kind of tradition is that?
No, I can't let this go. Once I'm full, I absolutely must grab someone and ask for the story behind it.
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