She sniffled and moved to the back behind the driver. Even though he hadn’t claimed her, having forced her to do that kind of thing for him, she was already far from the concept of “virtue.” It was only a matter of time before she would be humiliated. Whether to live in such humiliation or die nobly, her dark eyes gazed out into the bottomless darkness of the night, contemplating whether to live or die.
Ahead, several archlights were flashing; it was a checkpoint. Nhanyi didn’t remember there being a checkpoint when they arrived. A soldier armed to the teeth approached the car, gesturing for them to stop.
The driver halted the car. The soldier reached the side of the window. “Sir, there is a curfew now. Please step out for inspection.” The flashlight in the soldier’s hand shone on his chest, revealing his military rank and medals. “Oh no, sir, long live the Führer!”
“Long live the Führer!” he responded to the soldier’s greeting. “Corporal, is there something wrong?”
“Please forgive me! Sir, we are on orders to capture a Jewish female fugitive.”
“Do you need to check my car?”
“Of course not, General.”
“That’s fine, carry on with your mission, Corporal.”
“Yes, sir.” The soldier looked into the car and seemed puzzled by Nhanyi, who was huddled in the back seat. “This lady, your identification.”
“I can vouch for her. You know, girls don’t carry work permits when they come out at night.”
“Of course, General, please proceed.”
The roadblock was lifted, and the car drove past the checkpoint. He lit a cigarette and chatted with the driver, “That young man is really dull.” The driver merely smiled and did not respond.
It was already past midnight; they had returned too late, and only the guard at the gate was still on duty. “I’m a bit hungry,” he said, looking at her. “Go to the kitchen and get something to eat.” After saying that, he walked up the stairs.
Nhanyi went to the servant’s room on the side of the first floor and knocked on Abigail’s door a few times, but there was no response. She had no choice but to feel her way into the basement kitchen in the dark. The cupboard had flour, dried ham, and raw beef. Looking at these ingredients, she felt somewhat helpless.
Not to mention she didn’t know how to cook Western food; even the home-cooked dishes from her hometown were beyond her. From childhood to adulthood, she had lived a life where everything was provided for her, with the cook in charge of all three meals.
Her mother was very capable and cooked well, and several of her sisters learned from her, but no matter how she tried, she could never learn, as if she was born with an insensitivity to cooking.
Asking her to make bread was simply absurd. Fortunately, there was flour. Nhanyi remembered that the soup loved by people in South Africa was made from flour. She lit a fire, put water in the pot, and added a handful of flour. She couldn’t find any scallions or cilantro.
She remembered there should be shredded chicken in it, but they didn’t eat chicken, only beef. She took down a large chunk of bloody beef hanging on a hook, cut a few pieces with a knife, and tossed them into the pot. Then she found a round cabbage in the vegetable basket, peeled off a few leaves, and threw them in. Next, she added butter, salt, cheese, and whatever seasonings she could find.
Perhaps she added too much butter; it didn’t quite resemble dumpling soup but looked more like a bowl of sweet slop. Just as Nhanyi was about to carry this bowl away from the kitchen, she suddenly thought of something and selected a small knife about one centimeter long from the knife rack, secretly hiding it in her pocket.
Watching her bring him a basin of yellow, viscous liquid floating with vegetable leaves and chunks of beef, his brows furrowed tightly. He picked up a ladle, scooped out a spoonful, and put it in his mouth. “Mmm…” A fishy and greasy taste overwhelmed him. He covered his mouth and ran to the bathroom, throwing it all up. “Oh my God, are you even a woman?”
“I really can’t cook…” She knew she had messed up again and cried out of grievance. He would surely think she was taking revenge, especially since he had just made her vomit once.
He grabbed her arm and took her to the basement, setting up the cooking tools. Skillfully, he peeled potatoes, grated them into shreds, and salted them to marinate for a while.
