The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Since they arrived very early, even after fishing for a while, the cold morning light piercing through the mist had just dissipated. After the sun brightened, everything seemed warmer.

A few people fished from morning to noon. Fishing is not a very labor-intensive thing. The most labor-intensive thing is anticipation. Often when you recover from that kind of focused anticipation, your stomach is already growling with hunger.

They rushed back to the camp at noon when the sun was at its best, carrying the harvest from the morning. Even though freshwater fish were better raised, these fresh fish could not be eaten until the next day. Therefore, before returning, Schiller disemboweled all the fish, gutted them, and processed them into fish that could be cooked directly.

Natasha watched in amazement, mainly at the fact that a fisherman would not want to show off his live prey, and Schiller responded: "This is not something to show off. Our harvest should be very small in terms of ice fishing. As Ivan said, the prey in this period is more fragile and easier to take the bait."

Natasha looked down at the only fish she caught. It was a trout, not particularly strong. Judging from the shape of the abdomen, it should have consumed a lot of accumulated fat, and it was destined to not taste very good.

"Well, it seems that you prefer challenging fishing." Natasha hesitated for a while, but she still didn't make the allusion in her tone clearer, as if she had some concerns.

While speaking, Schiller had already started to deal with the last fish, and it was only at this time that Natasha had the time to watch his movements carefully.

Schiller put a mat on the ice, sat cross-legged on it, grabbed a fish by the tail and slapped them on the ground, hitting the head with the butt of a kitchen knife, almost knocking the fish unconscious.

And when he moved the knife, the fish's muscles still had reflexes, so the process of opening the gills was extremely cruel. Once the knife went in, the fish's tail cocked twice, and blood gushed out. When the tip of the western-style kitchen knife was turned backwards, Schiller raised his wrist and slightly turned the blade, and the fish's gills were shaved off.

Then press the heel of the palm of one hand on the body of the fish, and the other hand holding a knife cuts thinly along the belly of the fish, inserting the tip of the knife vertically, picking out all the internal organs without any effort.

Natasha swallowed, it was really hard for her to ignore the movements of Schiller's hands, even when her targets - those wealthy businessmen took her to very expensive and high-end western-style private restaurants and visited the back kitchen, she was not interested in the smooth butchering movements of the chefs, people and animals are different after all.

But what fascinated her about the movements of Schiller's hands was that Natasha could completely imagine how he used the same hands and the same crisp movements to cut open the chests and abdomens of other equally strong animals and clean their internal organs.

Furthermore, some phantom pain that Natasha had never experienced before began to spread along the center of her chest to her neck, as if the knife had cut open her skin, and the hand was picking out the internal organs that could be preserved in her abdomen.

Natasha shook her head vigorously. Schiller had already removed the head of the fish and began to cut the fish into thin slices. The sea bass in his hand was the fattest one among the fruits of their labor. The fish was slightly pink, and the color of the fat was lighter.

Natasha made another swallowing motion, and she asked, "What are you going to cook this fish with?"

"I think the luncheon meat in borscht can be replaced with fish." Schiller gave the answer without hesitation: "You said, anything can be put in borscht."

"But I think that's a bit of a waste, because I don't think the other two groups can catch better fish than us. There has to be a main course, right?"

"So what would you like to eat, ma'am?"

Schiller asked very straightforwardly, with a very gentlemanly tone, so Natasha really pursed her lips and thought about it, and said: "Although 'shuba (salmon salad)' is not bad, sea bass doesn't seem to be suitable for this dish. I also like smoked fish jelly, but it seems that I don't have so much time to make this."

"Fish bread?" Schiller suggested a possibility.

"God, don't tell me you brought flour." Natasha shook her head, as if unreasonable, and said, "That's also a very time-consuming snack."

"But it's worth it to entertain you."

Natasha had nothing to say, so she shrugged her shoulders and began to pack up the things on the ground. She picked up the fishing rod and said, "I'm not sure we'll come here to continue fishing in the afternoon, so we'll take everything back, and you made a wise decision, we don't have to carry a heavy tank full of water."

"Trust me, it's pretty sensible."

Natasha soon discovered that Schiller's decision to kill the fish first was more sensible than she thought, because when he returned to the camp, Steve was saying: "I only have two hands, so no matter how powerful I am, I can't hold four tanks at the same time. Nick and I still have half of the harvest, so we have to go back."

Natasha kicked the scattered ice cubes with her boots and said, "Can't you kill some fish first?"

"Jesus, ma'am, what nonsense are you talking about!" Nick looked at Natasha with an unbelievable look and said, "You don't know how many vigorous fish we have caught. How can we kill them before letting you witness their strength and vitality?"

Natasha was helpless to the extreme, she knew that these two fishermen who only had fish in their minds would not consider that lunch would be postponed due to their actions, and Charles next to her saw her dissatisfaction and comforted: "The temperature is lower than we thought, so the flames may take a while to rise. Sit down and warm up first, ma'am."

Natasha sat down on the fishing bench next to her, and Schiller then came over to put down his box. Eric glanced inside as if curious, raised his eyebrows and said, "Have you processed the fish?"

Schiller nodded and said, "I don't have so many trophies to show off. The two of us have not gained much. There is no need to carry two heavy water tanks back and forth."

"I cook grilled fish, how about you?" Ivan stood behind Charles and said while winding the fishing line: "I caught a strong big guy, it should be the biggest among us, it is only suitable for steaming or grilling, and it is a waste to cut it into fish."

"I promised to make fried fish bread for Natasha. I just brought flour, other seasonings, and a little vegetable. I'll prepare the dough first. We'll decide on the menu when Steve and the others come back."

"I have to save a few for dinner." Charles said, but he didn't pay attention to the dishes at all. His eyes flicked between Schiller and Natasha, and then raised his eyebrows at Eric.

"Separate one, and we will make low-temperature smoked marinated fish." Eric seemed to be focusing on the dishes, he seemed very relaxed, and said in an English accent with a weird German accent: "Just need some charcoal that is not completely burned, wrap the marinated fish and bury it."

"Or we can have some fish sausages." Schiller also suggested: "Because there is not enough time, we can skip the smoke and eat it with sauce. This dish can be left to cook at night."

"But what about the casings, what are you using as casings? Don't tell me you still have intestines." Natasha stared down at the fire, then looked up at Schiller.

After saying this, Natasha froze for a moment. She really hoped that Schiller would not interpret this as a pun or encouragement about cannibalism, but it turned out that this Schiller was really good at chatting. He just smiled and said, "I guess we only need to send a Russian to get enough bear intestines."

Ivan sneered, but Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, turning over the charcoal fire and said absently, "In this season, hunting any bear creatures is not a good choice. They are usually hungry, but they will be very aggressive when they are not in hibernation. It will be even worse if they encounter a female bear with cubs."

"Hey, look at these beautiful little guys." Nick's high-pitched shout came from a distance, and several others turned to look at him, and saw him and Steve walking back with a water tank.

The two of them are indeed the ones with the largest quantity and the best quality of fish among all the groups. The four tanks are full of trout, sea bass, snakehead, American eel, and small squid.

"We thought we'd catch the salmon by the tail," Nick said with a pun, "but they left as soon as they spawned, and maybe we were three months too late."

"Don't be too greedy," said Charles, looking around the harvest and saying, "That's quite enough for us, even for evening and tomorrow."

"In fact, ice fishing is good for the surrounding ecological environment." Steve shrugged and said while opening the lid of the tank: "The reduction in the number of fish schools will help the remaining individuals share more food, so that next year's population will increase and the offspring will be healthier."

"It's a bit superfluous to talk about this here." Ivan said while taking the last fish he caught from the hook, "This lake is too small, and there are no large-scale populations. Besides, the dead fish corpses can make their companions eat more. At least it's better than you catch them and then waste them."

Steve touched his nose in embarrassment. Americans are well known for their waste. He really couldn't refute this. Nick saw his embarrassing situation, so he changed the subject and said, "What should we eat?"

"The main dish that has been determined is grilled fish, the cold dish is low-temperature smoked fish, and the snack is fried fish bread."

"Damn bread, did someone bring flour? ... Well, Dr. Schiller is more considerate than others wherever he goes."

"This is to entertain a lady." Charles, whose gossip didn't get a response from Eric, raised his eyebrows at Nick again, but fortunately, Nick was not as puzzled as Eric. He immediately stared at the only remaining eye with a very obvious white, and looked back and forth between Schiller and Natasha.

"Nick, did someone tell you that you're like a Chihuahua sniffer dog?" Natasha said impatiently. She slammed the kitchen knife into the ice, looked at Nick and said, "Take care of your fish, or I'll chop them all up in one go."

Nick leaned back as if he couldn't offend Natasha, but at the same time nudged Steve with his elbow. Steve was staring unblinkingly at the prize in the tank, and it was obvious that he was the only one left focused on the fish.

"Come on, let our wonderful chefs show their strengths." Nick stood up and clapped his hands, took off the glove on one hand and put it under his armpit, looked around and said, "But first, let's build a stove for them to work equally, and then enjoy the results equally."

Natasha rolled her eyes, as if she was teasing Nick for making an axe, but Nick still kept making similar jokes, and then he finally got serious and said, "We leave those who are good at knife skills here to process the ingredients, and the rest go to the nearby woods to chop some wood and pick up some stones, so that the campfire can be built more vigorously."

"Let's get started, friends, a steaming meal awaits us at the back of the fishing season."