"Let’s have a family eting while everyone’s here for dinner, and take the chance to hear how Jing Shu has planned things," said Mr. Jing, taking small puffs of his hand-rolled cigarette. The apocalypse had almost cost these old smokers their lives. Luckily, they grew tobacco at ho. Still, it was precious. After giving so away as favors or exchanging it for food at high prices, little remained, and he still had to share half of that with his spendthrift son. Therefore, Mr. Jing treasured this tobacco very much.
The villa belonged to Jing Shu. All the food and even the various daily necessities were things she had acquired. In this post-apocalyptic world, Jing Shu also brought ho fresh peaches and other fruits from ti to ti. Jing Shu was insightful and her ideas well-respected, so everyone was willing to listen to her.
Grandma Jing hugged the fat chicken, using a towel to carefully smooth and clean the few feathers it had managed to grow, all while listening intently to her granddaughter. The fat chicken blissfully closed its eyes, enjoying the spa treatnt.
After gulping down the milk, Jing Shu sat down at the dining table and greeted Wu You’ai, whom she hadn’t seen in a long ti. Subconsciously, she touched behind her ears, her fingers probing the areas prone to sores. Yes, her delicate skin easily developed sores in the cold winter—itchy, painful, and exuding pus. A nightmare from her past life, still vividly etched in her mory.
Would she develop sores again in this lifeti? Regardless, she needed to take precautions by preparing ointnts and ensuring she stayed warm. Prevention was key.
"Why are we having a family eting today? What happened? For the Lunar New Year, we’ll do as we discussed. We’ll invite Elder Aunt, Second Aunt, and Uncle’s family over. Let’s celebrate in Grandma and Grandpa’s three-bedroom apartnt across the street—this year, consider it as if Grandma and Grandpa are hosting. We also need to start preparing New Year’s goods. Unlike previous years, we’ll need to prepare much more this year. As for accommodation, since Grandma and Grandpa’s place across the street is empty, we should arrange for them to stay there. Our villa is already packed to the brim and can’t fit any more people." Jing Shu squinted as she laid out the rough plan. The villa, filled with essential supplies, was her bottom line; Jing Shu wouldn’t let anyone even think of taking advantage, nor would she let them see the extent of her stores.
Not to ntion relatives, even Mr. Jing and Mrs. Jing didn’t know how much their family actually possessed. The basent and the upstairs room where supplies were stored were all locked with security doors, and Jing Shu held the keys. Her parents only knew that Jing Shu had bought many things wholesale years ago to be a food vlogger.
After the apocalypse, Jing Shu didn’t sit idly by. She worked with her grandparents growing vegetables and raising chickens, ducks, cattle, and other livestock. She even managed a greenhouse to grow fruits. This significantly increased the family’s supplies, making it even less likely for anyone to question the extent of their reserves.
Grandma Jing counted on her fingers, calculating the days, and said, "Then when shall we bring them over? And how many days will they stay? I’m worried your second aunt, who’s such a headache, might insist on staying until the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth. We won’t be able to send her away then."
A table laden with sumptuous dishes filled the air with delicious aromas. As Third Aunt brought the final main dish to the table—a large bowl of longevity noodles topped with over a dozen poached eggs and green onions—it looked very festive indeed.
Today’s al seed rather lavish, complete with a bottle of choice aged liquor, which was part of Mr. Jing’s collection.
"Don’t worry, Grandma. They won’t stay long; they’ll go back, I guarantee it," Jing Shu said, a confident smile playing on her lips. When their hos are about to be flooded, who would have the mind to stay any longer?
Grandma Jing said no more but ladled a bowl of noodles and two eggs for Mr. Jing. "Smoke, smoke, smoke! You’ve filled the whole house with it. You’re the birthday boy today. Even if you don’t eat anything else, you must eat this."
So it’s Mr. Jing’s birthday! Jing Shu realized with a start. The old man followed the lunar calendar, and even now, she still couldn’t figure out lunar dates. Every Spring Festival, she only knew the date by checking her phone calendar.
Mr. Jing smacked his lips and bashfully put away his hand-rolled cigarette. "Hey, isn’t smoking just to mask the food sll? Old Man Zhang from across the street keeps asking if our family eats fish and at every day... COUGH, COUGH. Birthday boy or not, we don’t usually celebrate this, but I must have these longevity noodles."
Mr. Jing slurped down a bowl of noodles and two poached eggs, and the whole family finally started eating. Today’s spread was personally cooked by Grandma Jing, with Third Aunt assisting: crispy fried yellow croaker, erald cucumber, bacon with garlic sprouts, smoked duck, old hen stew, chopped pepper century eggs, braised spare ribs, stewed catfish, and more—mostly at with few vegetables.
Most of the at was processed and frozen. Fresh vegetables were scarce in the villa; recently, the vegetables grown there couldn’t keep up with the family’s consumption. The vegetables grown in Jingshu’s space had all been turned into dried goods.
Mr. Jing handed over a small cup of wine, smiling as he said, "This is all our current conditions allow. The news says the disaster has ended and dawn isn’t far off. Give it two or three years until things return to how they were, then we’ll properly celebrate your 90th birthday."
Mr. Jing threw back the wine in one gulp, savored it with a smack of his lips, and waved his hand. "If you ask this old man, we shouldn’t have spent so much today. Look at this whole table of dishes... SIGH. It’s such a waste. I called this family eting today to ask for everyone’s opinions."
Jing Shu also scooped up a bowl of poached egg noodles. The round poached egg burst with a single bite, the yolk flowing out. With a SLURP, she swallowed it whole. The eggs, nourished by the Spiritual Spring, were especially fragrant. One could eat such a delicacy every day and never tire of it.
"Grandpa, what opinions do you want to ask about?" Jing Shu was curious. It had been a long ti since she’d seen Mr. Jing so serious about calling a family eting.
Third Aunt carried over a large teapot of Wu City’s specialty, pouring hot, steaming milk tea for everyone. Pieces of pure white milk skin floated on the coffee-colored liquid. Ever since milk beca abundant, everyone had gotten used to drinking milk tea like water.
Unlike bubble tea, Wu City’s milk tea was made from pure milk cooked with aromatic tea leaves and salt, with carefully rendered buttery milk skin added. Taking a sip in the chilly apocalyptic air, the rich, creamy flavor imdiately spread across the taste buds. Chewing on the thick milk skin was incredibly satisfying.
Milk tea, once an indispensable cold-weather drink at Wu City dining tables—drunk before als, when thirsty, and even when hungry—was now a luxury.
However, Jing Shu also liked bubble tea. The kind made from milk and black tea mixed with rose syrup or chocolate was like an afternoon dessert for noble ladies. Wu City’s savory milk tea, on the other hand, had an added richness. She liked both, just as with savory and sweet tofu pudding—each had its own distinct flavor.
With an excess of milk at Jingshu’s house, Grandma Jing turned it into jars of milk skin, an essential snack for Jing Shu.
Mr. Jing drank another cup of wine, urged everyone to eat, and then sighed. "Lately, there’s been a lot of talk. The big earthquake was two or three months ago. According to past patterns, other disasters might follow, but now there’s no sign of anything... Could it be, as the news agencies are saying, that the apocalypse is coming to an end?"
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