Wendy Lynch had always loved seafood, so seeing the stall, she walked over. The menu listed raw marinated flower crab, kuruma prawns, blood clams... After a moment of hesitation, she ordered a box of raw marinated flower crab and a box of raw marinated kuruma prawns.
Upon returning home, Wendy first put her groceries in the fridge, then opened the boxes of raw marinated seafood. The moment she lifted the lid, the rich aroma of garlic and the fresh scent of seafood wafted out. Putting on a disposable glove, she picked up a kuruma prawn first.
The prawn meat was coated in a savory sauce. Upon entering her mouth, it was springy and firm, its umami flavor bursting across her tongue. There wasn’t the slightest hint of fishiness. She couldn’t help but narrow her eyes in delight, slowly enjoying her meal while watching the latest episode of her favorite TV show.
However, when it came to the flower crab, Wendy frowned. The crab meat was much softer than she expected, feeling somewhat mushy as she chewed. Even drenched in the strongly flavored marinade, a distinct fishy odor lingered. Both the texture and taste were a far cry from the kuruma prawns.
She picked at it for a couple more bites but completely lost her appetite. Remembering the M8 Wagyu beef she still had in the fridge, she simply put the leftover flower crab back into the refrigerator.
Not long after, Wendy began to feel a dull ache in her abdomen. Over the next hour, she ended up rushing to the bathroom no less than five times. By the time the final bout of diarrhea subsided, she felt entirely drained. Even if she were slow on the uptake, she would have realized that there was definitely something wrong with the raw marinated seafood she had just eaten.
This wasn’t Wendy’s first time eating raw marinated seafood, and she had never experienced diarrhea from it before. The kuruma prawns she had eaten first were probably fine; the problem most likely lay with that box of flower crab.
Wendy felt somewhat fortunate. Back when she was strapped for cash, even if she had noticed the crab tasted off, she probably would have forced herself to finish it just to avoid wasting food. Recalling the torrential outpouring she had just endured in the bathroom, a wave of numbness washed over her scalp.
Perhaps because she hadn’t eaten much of it and had promptly taken anti-diarrheal medication, the exhausting ordeal finally ceased. She collapsed onto the sofa, her face visibly paler from the severe dehydration.
At this moment, an internal struggle waged within her mind. Her first thought was to immediately grab that box of flower crab from the fridge and give that Tideworth raw marinade stall a piece of her mind. However, thinking of the potential hassle that would ensue, Wendy let out a heavy sigh.
She was naturally untalented when it came to arguments. In all the arguments she could remember having, she had never won a single one. Picking a fight was no different from actively seeking out suffering.
Gripping the sofa’s armrest, Wendy slowly stood up. With every step, her legs felt as weak as if she were walking on cotton. She stared at the box of raw marinated flower crab in the fridge, from which she had only taken two bites, and a new idea popped into her head. She wondered if she should just call the police.
But the moment this thought arose, she extinguished it herself. Food poisoning cases involving raw marinated food were inherently ambiguous. If the stall owner insisted she just had a sensitive stomach, or claimed the ingredients were fine but she had stored them improperly, it would be extremely difficult for her to prove otherwise.
She couldn’t exactly send the leftover food in for testing, could she? Aside from the high cost of testing, the back-and-forth hassle alone would probably take a couple of weeks. After all that trouble, she might not even get a satisfactory explanation and would only end up furious.
Considering she was only out eighty yuan, rather than continuously dwelling on it and sulking, it was better to just forget about it early on. She tossed the raw marinated flower crab from the fridge into the trash can, as if this simple act could dispose of the terrible experience along with it.
The bout of diarrhea had come and gone quickly. By evening, she was able to walk around normally, and the dull ache in her stomach had vanished. Seeing that it was getting late, Wendy took the slab of M8 Wagyu out of the fridge. Seeing the fine marbling of fat on the beef, her mood instantly improved significantly.
After taking the steak out and letting it rest at room temperature, she dug out some newly bought butter and whole black peppercorns. She heated a flat-bottomed pan and dropped in a small pat of butter. Accompanied by a SIZZLE, the melting butter instantly emitted a rich, creamy aroma.
Once the butter had completely melted, she carefully laid the steak into the pan. As the bright red meat made contact with the hot oil, a crisp SIZZLE immediately echoed out. Tiny droplets of oil danced lightly in the pan while the marbled fat slowly rendered. Hot steam, wrapped in the savory scent of meat, drifted upward, making her mouth water so much she couldn’t help but swallow.
When she flipped it, the edges of the steak had already seared into a beautiful caramelized brown. A gentle poke with her chopsticks revealed that the meat was tender yet perfectly springy. Following a method she had learned online, she used a spoon to repeatedly baste the steak’s surface with the melted butter from the bottom of the pan, ensuring every inch was cooked evenly. Finally, after sprinkling on some freshly ground black pepper and a pinch of salt, a mouth-watering pan-seared steak was ready.
Wendy plated the steak on a white porcelain dish and cut half a cherry tomato for a garnish. Looking at the beautiful presentation, she felt herself practically drooling. She whipped out her phone and snapped two quick photos. After taking the pictures, she picked up her knife and fork to gently slice off a small piece.
The moment it entered her mouth, an abundance of juices exploded across her tongue. The creamy richness of the fat and the savory umami of the beef blended together flawlessly. The meat was so tender it hardly required any effort to chew. The terrible mood brought on by her earlier bout of diarrhea was thoroughly cured in this very instant. She slowly enjoyed her steak while turning on her tablet to watch her show, feeling exceptionally cozy and relaxed.
Before she knew it, the wall clock struck midnight.
Wendy opened her email inbox.
[Time Mailbox: You have a letter from September 19, 2025]
"That was too close!
"That Tideworth raw marinade stall really did have a problem!
"Salmonella and Vibrio parahaemolyticus poisoning!
"They charge such exorbitant prices, yet they’re too cheap to use fresh seafood!
"It’s so tragic!
"A pregnant woman, four months along, even had a miscarriage because of it.
"You must never eat raw marinated seafood again in the future!
"..."
Wendy stared at the email content on her tablet screen, her fingers trembling uncontrollably as a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on her back. The sheer coziness she had felt while eating the steak earlier vanished without a trace. In its place, a chill shot up from the very bottom of her heart, making her shiver involuntarily.
What wrenched her heart even more was the line about the four-month pregnant woman miscarrying as a result. Wendy clutched her chest, feeling a sharp sting in her nose. A tiny life, about to be born, had forever lost the chance to enter this world simply because of the stall owner’s ruthless greed. She didn’t dare to imagine the overwhelming despair that pregnant woman and her family must have felt upon learning that their child had died before even being born.
Taking a deep breath, Wendy suppressed her somewhat chaotic thoughts. She read the email again but couldn’t find a crucial time marker within it. The time of sending was midnight on September 19, 2025.
Wendy abruptly stood up from the sofa, pacing back and forth across the living room. Her first reaction was to immediately call the police, but her footsteps halted the moment she reached the door. Calling the police required evidence; she couldn’t possibly report something that hadn’t even happened yet.