Sick Boy[s] Paddle Club↓

Ten Recipes for Devouring Women

Ghosty 俞文

Translated by: Kate Xu

Our intelligence agents unearthed a letter——no date, no name, no address. There’s no way to trace it, and the words within seem to be the ramblings of a madman. Still, the content is so unsettling that we feel compelled to share it. Perhaps it will serve as a warning to those of you that it may concern. If not, then at least let it offer the rest of you a peculiar little laugh.

​

Dear Sir,

I hope this letter finds you well. Since I arrived in this charming land, I struggled at first to adjust, but slowly acquired a taste for the local cuisine. Their methods of “diet therapy” proved quite effective, and I have grown content and carefree recently. That is why I simply must tell you, my dear friend, about the unique local delicacy, one that the natives call “women.” Allow me to lay out the “Ten Recipes for Devouring Women” in meticulous detail.

Women, you see, are a kind of livestock -- kept behind closed doors, fattened with care until they’re ready for the table. After all, isn’t marriage just another word for domestication -- of women, for men? True, women speak, walk on two legs, and mimic the manners of men. At a glance, one might mistake them for human. And so, for all these years, we have treated them as such. What a waste, never having tasted their flesh! I imagine you, too, have never had the pleasure. It was only upon arriving here that I truly began to partake.

The elders here say that women were once nothing special as an ingredient. In poor households, the preparation was crude, and the breeding lacked refinement. Truly exquisite specimens were rare, and thus highly prized. However, if you were lucky enough to find such a delicacy, you could hire a fine chef to savor it together. Literary scholars were sometimes invited as well, to document each detail of the dish for future generations. One lost recipe, for example, involved the binding of women’s feet -- tight, pointed, and impossibly small. It kept the livestock from running, and made them easier to manage. Sadly, this particular technique has long been retired. What remains is now sealed behind museum glass, no longer available for proper tasting. A pity. In recent years, however, it seems the women have begun to object. Gradually, women have found their ways onto the “protected lists,” and a crowd of busybodies has taken it upon themselves to speak on their behalf. These delicacies are now less openly served. Still, we continue to indulge, though no longer so openly. We simply change the recipe and adjust the seasoning. Everyone knows the taste. So long as you wipe your lips clean afterward and make sure no bone shards fall from the corners of your mouth, there’s no harm done. After all, discretion is everything. No need to flaunt your appetite.

Marriage: The Main Course

Let us begin with the most common main course in this land: marriage. To partake, one must first bring a woman of suitable age into the household. Do not let the simplicity of the method fool you. This dish, though plain in appearance, offers a depth of flavor when properly handled. With a bit of effort, the variations are endless. What’s more, marriage allows for a clever twist: women can be made to consume each other. This is known as the “mother-in-law versus daughter-in-law” technique, where the elder is trained to cook the younger. Let them boil and simmer in their shared pot of bitterness, while we sit back and enjoy the feast safely. Alas, such delicacies have become harder to obtain in recent years. With more and more women choosing to remain unmarried, the supply has dwindled. Without the proper ingredients, how is one to enjoy a decent meal? Fortunately, the local lords have laid down two new rules. First, to lower the threshold of marriage by pushing unhoused women into ready-made households. Second, to raise the barrier to exit, ensuring that once the lid is sealed, the stew stays simmering. With these rules in place, we may once again dine in peace -- slowly, and behind closed doors.

Housework: The Side Dish

Now that the main course is served, we must move on to the second bite: housework, a perfect companion to marriage, much like pickles to a bowl of plain porridge. Some women, however, are stubborn by nature, refusing to cook properly. Lumps form. Resistance builds. In such cases, a gentle simmer of “feminine virtue” is recommended: patience, obedience, silence. Should that fail, one may apply firmer pressure. A little force can help soften things up, break the lumps, and get the porridge cooking smoothly. Of course, this method requires a delicate touch. Push too far, and she might start crying about “domestic violence,” maybe even drag you to court. But do not fear -- the local lords will understand. After all, what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen, and a man has to eat, doesn’t he?

Trafficking: Raw Delicacy

Care to stay at my humble place for a while, my friend? I have not yet stocked a woman in my place, but there are so many of them passing by on the streets. A bit of money, a few connections, and one can always procure something fresh. A new catch, lively and robust, is always keen to escape, and thus great for raw pickling. Just splash on some ginger, vinegar, and a dash of white liquor, tip her headfirst into a glass bowl, and seal it tight. This will dizzy and weaken her, and she will soon obey. The more rebellious ones? A few chains, a bit of beating, and they usually come around. This is the third recipe for devouring women -- trafficking, if you must. Of course, too much raw consumption is not good for one's health, and lately, the authorities have been cracking down on it. So if you and I genuinely partake, we must be cautious. Still, once a dish makes it into the house, can it truly run away?

Childbearing: The Sticky Cake

Raw food may be a bit tough for you, dear friend, especially at your age -- your teeth may not be up for the task. Luckily, the locals have developed another method: having the woman give birth, much like how they make “sticky cakes” around here. The pain of childbirth feels like being hammered and chiseled over and over -- even the hardest bones can be crushed into a sticky, gluey paste. What’s more, once a child is born, most women end up firmly stuck to the bottom of the bowl, unable to move. Some elders even say that the placenta, minced and wrapped into dumplings, is incredibly nourishing for the body. Isn’t that killing two birds with one stone?

Surrogacy: The Custom Dessert

These days, in the new century, making sticky cakes at home has become too time-consuming and laborious. No one has the patience for it anymore -- it’s out of fashion. I have heard that outside of the city, a newly opened factory offers a convenient alternative: “surrogacy.” Women are hired to do the birthing for the customers, producing standardized and custom desserts on demand. The process is discreet, efficient, and outrageously profitable. Since I am new here, I have not yet had the pleasure of sampling it. Rumor has it that a single portion can go for as much as 700,000 silver coins. Want to pick the gender? That is another 200,000. A certificate of production -- another 50,000. Honestly, if we were to send the women in our households over to work there, just one or two desserts would bring us instant fortune.

Prostitution: Dining Out

The first five dishes are all home-cooked and can easily run out of variations. The sixth, however, is an outing: a proper dinner at a restaurant, offering you a varied and ever-evolving selection. We call this form of dining “prostitution,” though it is far beyond mere dalliances. Locals here have long developed a refined practice around it, and discerning gourmands even regard it as an art form. Lavish surroundings and elegant packaging lure women in, only to strip them bare, layer by layer. The richer the spread, the softer the flesh when served. Many other culinary methods derive from this process, but all follow two basic principles: coercion and temptation. With such techniques, fresh ingredients arrive endlessly at the kitchen door. The flames blaze high, the oil sizzles loud -- and despite countless bans, the feast never ends.

“Eating Tofu”: Squeezed, Sliced and Spoiled

*In Mandarin, the phrase “eating tofu” can be used as slang referring to casual sexual harassment, like flirting, touching inappropriately, or making suggestive remarks. The term derives from the idea that tofu is soft, easy to take advantage of, and seemingly harmless.

The seventh dish is famous far and wide, known as “eating tofu.” As you know, tofu is cheap and easy to come by——a low-cost delicacy that yields rich returns, with endless variations to suit every appetite. Yet women despise it, slapping on the label “sexual harassment.” I, of course, simply brush it aside with a smile. From raw bean to spoiled curd, the entire process of making and eating tofu mirrors the way women are consumed. Before tofu solidifies, it is called “soy milk.” In this early state, we stir in gossip and slander like spices, turning it into “salty soy milk.” When tofu sets, snowy white and smooth, we pour on some dark soy sauce to further season it -- can’t make it look too innocent, can we? Or squeeze it hard until all moisture is drained, exhausting it completely to make “pressed tofu.” Then slice it thin into delicate threads, savoring every bite of the “shredded tofu.” The variations go on -- too many to list. Once the feast is over, what then? It is time to spoil the consumed ones’ reputation and make them “stinky tofu,” gathering public opinion to claim they are rotten inside out to begin with -- that’s why they are taken advantage of! What a delightful, interconnected cuisine this is -- one flavor leading seamlessly into the next!

AI: Hotpot of Faces

If you find the last two methods still too risky, allow me to recommend an innovative instant meal from the West——“deepfake,” a low-effort dish that’s quick to cook and quicker to spread. Have you heard of it? This dish requires minimal skill in the kitchen. Just toss in any ingredient -- or more precisely, any woman’s photo -- and you can conjure up all kinds of videos to flood the public sphere. Relatives or friends, celebrities or the virtuous, all tossed in to be cooked and scalded, sharing the same flavor -- much like a hotpot. Low-cost, crowd-pleasing, and utterly modern, it’s become the trendy new recipe of the day. When will you join us at the table? The technique is simple; you and I can both play chef, and feast together.

Cyberbullying: The Wok of Fury

Have you heard of this local delicacy, sir? It’s called “cyberbullying,” a signature dish of the new era. Unlike traditional cooking methods, this one will not dirty your fingers. With nothing but the internet’s flames, we can heat the wok up to full blast. Then, we mix in a bit of the earlier recipes -- some slander here, a dash of deepfake there——to spread with incredible ease. As long as a woman makes a single misstep, says something disagreeable, or simply rubs people the wrong way, she will soon be served as a public spectacle, attacked by thousands, cursed and condemned until she wishes to vanish from cyberspace -- sometimes from the world. Isn’t that incredible? For us, it didn’t break a sweat. For them, it can easily break their minds. The taste? Exquisite. The aftertaste? Addictive.

Culture: The Eternal Stew

And now, the final course——the most secret, the most masterful dish we’ve been perfecting over centuries: “culture.” This is a subtle way to devour women, simmering quietly over generations, until they become dishes who find themselves delicious. Through literature, opera, film, and education, we season women from an early age to suit our taste. Women are supposed to be “soft and delicate,” “obedient and virtuous,” “good wives and wise mothers,” and more. The beauty of this dish lies in its invisibility. Women not only serve themselves up willingly, but also believe this is freedom and virtue. Lately, we’ve introduced fresh seasoning: freedom to wear makeup, freedom to flirt or flaunt. New spices, same base. Even when they try to resist, the flavor has already seeped in too deeply. The dish completes itself. No effort from us at all, and the stew never goes cold, never runs out. And when they become mothers, they teach their daughters how to season themselves to taste, generation after generation. We just sit back and feast. Isn’t that the finest dish of all?

Here concludes the Ten Recipes for Devouring Women——a banquet so refined, none in the world can resist. Should you be lucky enough to savor each and all, you will surely be fed to satisfaction, with a taste that lingers.

Respectfully yours,

(Name illegible)

Ghosty

She is angry about many things, but while the anger fades, the reasons for it do not. For her, writing is more like an irresistible impulse—certain feelings and thoughts about the female condition, if left unwritten, would always feel like a source of guilt.