On the thirty-seventh day, the treehouse was finished. (Tomorrow it will be featured. Please vote for it!)

It was only yesterday that I learned sea turtle eggs never solidify, no matter how long you boil them. I boiled them several times, but after cracking them open, they remained almost as raw as before. After discarding a few, I kept trying, but no matter what, they just wouldn’t cook through.

In the end, the ones I threw away caught Little Black’s attention. He eagerly licked up every last bit of those unsolidified turtle eggs, shells and all. Seeing how much he seemed to enjoy them, I decided to try one myself. The taste nearly made me gag—fishy, sticky, with a faint salty tang. I gave up and left the rest for Little Black.

Later, a sudden idea struck me: I put the last two sea turtle eggs in a pan and tried to fry them. Sadly, they stuck to the bottom, and fearing they’d burn, I moved the pan to the edge of the fire. Sea turtle eggs are nothing like bird or chicken eggs—the whites are almost nonexistent, just a yolk, and it takes an eternity to solidify.

After nearly ten minutes, and only when the bottom began to smell burnt, did the yolk finally start to set. I pushed the fried eggs free and picked them up with my chopsticks. The chopsticks were crafted from small branches, stripped of bark until they were smooth as polished art pieces.

One side of the egg was charred black. I peeled away the burnt part and ate the rest. To my surprise, it was actually quite good. Fried sea turtle eggs tasted far better than boiled ones—the strange odor was faint, the texture a little sandy, reminiscent of chicken yolk but richer in flavor. Perhaps it’s the high protein content that makes them so hard to solidify.

But truly, the turtle leg meat was the real delicacy. I prepared it the usual way—roasting. Next time, I’d like to try making a soup, for the meat was nothing like the tough texture I’d imagined.

Yesterday was my first time eating sea turtle meat. I’d only had softshell turtle before, but the flavors are worlds apart. Roasted sea turtle is incredibly fragrant, with dense, beef-like texture, yet even tastier than beef. Each bite released a burst of freshness that lingered in my mouth—utterly irresistible.

It was so delicious that Little Black devoured both turtle legs over several sittings last night—his appetite is truly astonishing. If possible, I plan to catch more today and try sun-drying some meat. For the sake of survival, I’m willing to try anything.

The whole morning, I busied myself searching for and hauling back small trees. Meanwhile, Little Black amused himself with a coconut crab that had suddenly appeared—I had no idea where it came from. Bold as ever, Little Black pawed at the crab, probably thinking it as fragile as the little red crabs by the shore. But a coconut crab’s massive pincers could easily snap his paw—they’re strong enough to crack coconuts, after all.

Naturally, I didn’t want anything to happen to Little Black, so I intervened and ended up catching the coconut crab myself. Tonight’s feast was assured.

After eating some fruit, I got back to work. Once the house was finished, I could finally settle into a routine. My current ambitions are simple: I don’t want to struggle so much—I just want a sturdy little house, a fenced yard, a few benches, some rabbits, and fruit trees.

I think I’m gradually coming to terms with this place. Acceptance doesn’t mean I don’t want to leave, but rather that, given no way out, I have no choice but to adapt.

I mulled over many ways to build the roof, but in the end, I chose the simplest. After two or three hours, I finally finished it. It was still a crude roof, but I was confident it wouldn’t leak, since I’d pressed the big waterproof tarp beneath the small trees that made up the roof. I built the roof with a high front and a low back, slanting tightly over the tarp. Everything was lashed firmly with vines. This cursed island rains and blows so often, I’ve had enough. As long as the hut doesn’t leak and is sturdy, I’ll be content.

The swing was the simplest part. I climbed a big tree, tied two thick vines securely to a branch, and triple-knotted them to prevent slipping. Then I climbed down, took a branch about fifty centimeters long and as thick as my arm, and tied both ends with vines so it hung parallel to the ground.

Trying it out a few times was pure bliss. In the future, after meals, I could sit on the swing and enjoy the scenery—a pleasure I longed for.

There was still work to do: I needed to dig a pit below and find stones to build a simple stove, and I had to dig a drainage ditch around the treehouse. Having learned my lesson, I made this ditch deep and wide, channeling runoff fifteen meters away. The land here is slightly higher than the surroundings, so flooding was unlikely, and sleeping upstairs meant I’d be safe in any case.

That’s experience for you—having gone through it, I understood. I could now call myself a novice in outdoor living.

Finding suitable stones was tough. In the end, I had to go to the foot of the mountain, gather a pile of rubble, load it into my suitcase, and drag the whole thing back. Little Black saw this and looked at me with what I swore was a resentful expression.

I laughed at Little Black, and as soon as I dumped out the stones, he rushed over and grabbed the suitcase—his den, after all.

The so-called stove was finished before sunset. I simply dug a pit and ringed it with stones to form a circular edge. Once the fire was going, I finally tied up the sloped ramp I’d made earlier to make it easier to reach the upper level. The ramp was just five or six small trees bound together. As for the front door, I wove together branches and palm leaves from the old roof, tying them with vines.

Looking at the finished result, I finally nodded in satisfaction. It was undeniably rough, but in just three days, I’d built my treehouse—something I’d never have imagined before.

Seaweed and coconut crab soup, roasted crab legs—after a quick meal with Little Black, exhausted from a long day’s work, I was just about to sleep when the sound of rain returned once again outside.