Day Thirty-Eight: The Forgotten Treasure (Part One)

“Mmm, the air here is wonderful.”
The rain last night didn’t last long.
Fortunately, my little cabin was finished just yesterday; otherwise, being drenched by the rain would have been truly unpleasant.
The sun was just rising, and the temperature climbed quickly. I relished this feeling. Sleeping in my newly built cabin last night, my heart found a rare peace.
Seated on the swing, biting into a juicy fruit, my feet gently pushing off the ground, I savored every moment of it.
From a different perspective, this place really was quite beautiful.
“Hmm, why not look for some turtle eggs and try making soup?”
Having seen so many turtles laying eggs the night before, I decided to experiment with turtle eggs once again. Such an easily accessible food—if there’s even the slightest chance, I don’t want to let it go to waste.
I strolled toward the shore, sea breeze in my face. Today, Blackie, unusually well-behaved, didn’t dash about but scampered along beside me.
Turtle eggs aren’t buried deep. The chaotic patches of sand spoke of countless turtles that had come before.
Scooping away the loose sand, I soon gathered a handful of turtle eggs.
Blackie devoured several red crabs, then joyfully splashed through the waves, running with all his might.
“Such an energetic little one,” I sighed, watching him. His bite wounds had mostly healed; the scabs were intact but hadn’t fallen off yet. Thankfully, there was no bone injury; otherwise, recovery would have been far less certain.
Just as I was about to head back and try new ways to cook turtle eggs, my gaze drifted to the distant fishing boat…
I wasn’t sure why, but I felt compelled to approach it once more.
I still remembered clearly the last time I boarded that vessel searching for medicine. Back then, fear kept me from thoroughly exploring every part of the ship.
Perhaps subconsciously, I knew I had to take another look. That must be what urged me on.
After days of exposure, the iron hull had begun to rust. With some seaweed draped over it, it looked just like a sunken wreck freshly hauled from the depths.
The boat leaned against the rocks by the shore. The easiest way onboard was to climb over those rocks.
Lizards basked in the sun atop the stones—repulsive creatures that made my skin crawl. I wasn’t sure why, but a dark thought flickered through my mind: if I’d arrived here with nothing else to eat, would I have considered eating them?
The answer was no. I’m not like those survival experts on TV, standing at the top of the food chain. I’m just an ordinary, humble person, unable to stomach revolting things. Even if I tried, I’d likely vomit…
Lost in these chaotic thoughts, my hands didn’t pause. Soon, I was back in the ship’s cabin I’d searched before.
Still messy—debris, exposed wires, a spoon or two, and in the corner, a toppled, broken cabinet…
But now, I saw these things as treasures to be salvaged.
“Damn it, why didn’t I take these before?” I muttered, giving my head a few frustrated knocks.
I gathered the useful items and tried to move the broken cabinet. The doors weren’t locked, but the inside was empty—I’d checked last time.
This time, I meant to move it entirely, to see if anything hid beneath.
The cabinet was heavy, once secured to the wall with screws—I could still see the holes.
My first attempt failed. I’d only tested it with half my strength.
It didn’t budge!
Clearly, that wasn’t enough. I’d hesitated to use full force, worried that if it toppled toward me, I’d be powerless to stop it and risk getting hurt.
But after a quick assessment, I made up my mind.
I’d push it from the side; that way, if it fell, it would go sideways and not crush me.
“Here goes—ha!” I pushed with all my might. The cabinet finally began to shift, inching back toward its original spot.
It was so heavy, though, that my strength was quickly depleted. I could barely keep up.
Panting hard, I forced myself to calm down and ration my energy.
At last, the cabinet slid back to where it belonged. With nothing to anchor it, it wobbled, then tilted toward me again. Fortunately, I hadn’t let go.
So, it toppled forward with a crash, sending dust flying everywhere.
“Phew.” The adrenaline rush left me limp. My entire body felt drained, my heart pounding as if struck by piano hammers.
Not just from exhaustion or risk, but because—behind the broken cabinet, a door!
Yes, the moment I moved the cabinet, I saw it!
It had been hidden the whole time, and only now did I realize how ignorant and foolish I’d been. How could I think a twenty-meter fishing boat would have only one cabin?
“I truly am a fool!” I chided myself.
After a brief rest to steady my breathing, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I leapt up and tried to force the door open.
Perhaps I’d overexerted myself earlier—my muscles still trembled, and the door wouldn’t budge.
I checked and found no lock; the door must have warped or jammed.
But there was no way I would leave without opening that door. Absolutely not!
So I kicked, pushed, wedged an iron shard beside it, leaned my whole weight—tried everything.
Nothing worked.
Frustration mounted; my mind raced, unable to find calm.
I kicked the door repeatedly, venting my anger and helplessness.
It was like watching food just out of reach—so close, yet unattainable.
Finally, after letting out my rage, I calmed down. An idea struck me.
I stepped back, took a running start, and kicked the door hard. It loosened, swaying slightly.
With another running kick, the door yielded—it was open!