While Xi P keeps fiddling with the remote, repeatedly pausing the TV, switching channels, muting it, and switching to monochrome, Min suddenly realises something: all that pondering won't get him anywhere until he has more information available.

  Simply put, things will work themselves out. For now, he should focus on taking care of it and work out how to communicate. He prefers to respect Xi P's personal autonomy. If Xi P wishes to contact Earth's governments, it can do so once it learns to convey that desire. Who knows? Perhaps one day a vast fleet of fox-people will descend upon Earth.

  'But do they even have such a vast fleet? Their technology doesn't seem that advanced, after all.'

  Min furrows his brow, trying to deduce their technological level. On reflection, Xi P doesn't seem to match the stereotypical image of advanced alien technology. Their dominance in space exploration is evident, but their civilian equipment appears to be within the realm of human understanding. Otherwise, its clothing wouldn't have been scratched by tree branches, and the language issue wouldn't require such primitive, word-by-word teaching. Plus, that toy gun is made of plastic.

  'Could it be that all it takes is pouring oil onto a heated copper ring to achieve anti-gravity and faster-than-light travel? Like in the book 'The Road Not Taken'? Then — '

  "...THE BORN MAN. DIE, DIE, DIE!"

  Deafening death metal suddenly blares through the living room! Min snatches the remote from Xi P and turns it off. Looking back, he sees Xi P clutching its ears, expression blank and vacant. Those long fox ears clearly indicate keen hearing. Its eardrums — assuming they share a similar structure — must be delicate and fragile. That channel was heavily affected by the loudness war (Note 1), prolonged exposure to it could permanently damage anyone's hearing. The "music" made Min's eardrums ache — let alone Xi P's.

  Note 1: See Wikipedia.

  Well, that just gives the alien another negative impression of Earth.

  Perhaps psychologically scarred, when Xi P regains its senses and restarts the TV, it turns the volume down extremely low and dares not prick up its ears so sharply.

  Glancing at the time, it is nearly 1 PM — lunch is due. But Min still doesn't know what Xi P eats. Assuming their ecosystem follows the same producer-consumer-decomposer model, with those sharp teeth, even Min's trigeminal nerve can tell it's a carnivore. The question is whether it can digest meat from Earth. Given the many physiological similarities it shares with Earth creatures, maybe, perhaps, possibly, it shouldn't be an issue?

  And does it prefer its food raw or cooked? Min doesn't mean to offend, or forget the fact that Xi P is a civilised being like himself, but who knows if its culture includes a preference for cooked food or not?

  'I might as well just make both. It can't possibly like half-cooked meat, can it?' With that thought, Min heads into the kitchen.

  ***

  "Knock knock!"

  Midway through cooking, a knock sounds at the kitchen door. Before Min can open it, Xi P bursts in, clutching a bucket of water it fetched at some point. The kitchen's pungent aroma hits it like a wave, making it pinch its nose instantly before darting back out. Not a word is said — though it couldn't say anything Min would understand anyway...

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "What..." Min says belatedly, puzzled, 'Oh well, I need to make sure it washes its hands later...'

  ***

  A dozen minutes later.

  Xi P sits on the dining chair, staring at the food on the table, looking somewhat at a loss. Min casually mixes some of the dishes with the rice in his bowl and takes a bite. He then gestures towards the two plates of meat.

  Xi P understands, but now it looks extremely nervous — this is alien meat it has never eaten before! It might not even resemble the "meat" it knows! Xi P holds the meat up in front of itself, stares at it for ages, then brings it close to its nose to sniff. Finally, it opens its mouth.

  'Even the structure inside its mouth looks a bit like a fox's.' Min thinks absently, setting down the spoon and glancing at Xi P.

  Its movements are slow. Its tongue extends almost timidly, lightly licking the meat. It hesitates noticeably before carefully tearing off a tiny shred and putting it into its mouth.

  In that instant, Min witnesses its expression shift dramatically for the first time. It resembles the grimace of a human tasting something intensely sour or bitter. Still, Xi P eventually swallows it — or so it seems.

  Returning the remaining meat to the plate, Xi P points at it and shakes head emphatically. Whether genuinely repulsed by the taste or merely testing for poison, it clearly has no intention of eating more.

  Min, who has witnessed the entire scene, sighs. Although he had anticipated this outcome, he still feels somewhat disappointed. Emotionally, he hoped that it would appreciate his culinary skills. But creatures' taste buds evolve to suit the foods they are meant to consume, generally favouring a whitelist approach. Even most sharks will instinctively try to spit out humans if they accidentally bite them. One can only imagine how repulsive these Earth foods must be to it — even if it could digest and absorb them.

  Min has a backup plan anyway. He gestures for Xi P to look at the row of glass cups on the table. These contain not just water, but low-concentration solutions of various monosaccharides and polysaccharides. If life forms across the universe originate from Earth-like planets, considering that sugar metabolism traces back to Earth's earliest life forms, there is a high probability that Xi P can tolerate at least one of these solutions.

  Leaning over, Xi P sniffs each cup one by one, but doesn't drink. It nods at the cups, then gestures vaguely at the entire table and shakes its head. Before Min can deduce what this means, Xi P stands up and motions for him to follow.

  '...Though I did plan on finishing my meal first.' Min shrugs, setting down his chopsticks and follows.

  Xi P exits through the front door, walks to the rear of the house, and gestures in a manner that roughly conveys "look this way". Puzzled, Min peers over its shoulder. There, on the slope not far behind his house, lay... a pile of spaceship.

  Yes, a "pile" of spaceship wreckage. If that heap of scattered metal debris, littered with countless fragments, can even be called a spaceship. The whole thing resembles an early bomber that has crashed headfirst into the ground, but without wings and with the cabin stretched horizontally instead. It makes Min exclaim instinctively: "What the hell is this?!"

  Xi P says nothing, merely leading him to the wreckage's tail section where it picks up a silver package from the ground. Without explanation, it turns back towards the house. Although Min's questions only multiply, the communication barrier forces him to follow. There, he watches Xi P tear open the package and retrieve... more packages.

  The nesting doesn't continue. The second layer of packaging contains normal items: colourful pastes in tubes resembling toothpaste or syringes; tightly stacked orange cubes; rough sticks. They appear to be highly processed space food, the kind focused on storage density and shelf life.

  Even from a metre away, Min can detect the unpleasant, strange odour emanating from these items. Xi P, however, appears perfectly normal and eats quickly. The previous observation seems applicable to Earthlings as well.

  Min counts a dozen such bags at the scene. For the immediate future, at least, food will not be a concern for the two of them.