The Cannon Fodder in the Global Apocalypse Game lives a leisurely life Chapter 454: There is something wrong with the genre

The confrontation continued.

The two of them worked with remarkable culinary skill, blades flashing and movents crisp, yet the atmosphere between them grew increasingly tense. Their gazes collided again and again, sparks flying invisibly in the air.

It was exactly like the way she stared at the last remaining piece of at on a plate.

She had also never seen Haoran this absorbed before. His expression was calm yet solemn, as if he were handling sothing of great importance. Anyone who didn’t know better might have thought he was performing so crucial ritual rather than slicing at.

"Why the long face? Got diarrhea?"

A voice suddenly cut into her thoughts.

Chunhua turned her head and saw Grandpa Trident standing behind her.

"Grandpa, you’re done sightseeing already?"

When they had first entered the dungeon, Grandpa Trident had imdiately separated from them, muttering that the place felt strangely familiar, as though he had been there before.

Grandpa Trident sighed and folded his arms.

"Yes, but I can’t rember where this is, or even what it’s called. I haven’t seen a single native so far."

That was hardly surprising. In the original storyline, not a single foreign race appeared in this dungeon.

Still, it only deepened Chunhua’s curiosity about the mysterious rchant ntioned by the system.

The old rman ghost rubbed his chin and muttered to himself.

"Was it the grasslands filled with wild beastwon who love setting traps? Or the land of those cute, flirtatious fairies who drink fruit wine all day? Or perhaps the forest inhabited by temperantal dryads?"

Chunhua’s hearing was sharp. She caught every word—and suddenly had an epiphany.

"Grandpa Trident, can I ask you sothing?"

"What is it?"

She told him a story.

"Once upon a ti, there was a mix-mix, a Sichuan hotpot, and a plain dumpling..."

Grandpa Trident raised a hand at once, bewildernt written all over his face.

"Wait. What is a mix-mix? And what is this Sichuan hot... what? Are these so kind of new creatures I don’t know of?"

"Oh. A mix-mix is shaved ice with fruit, mung beans, milk, sotis chocolate. Hotpot is a kind of soup, spicy or not, where you cook ingredients inside—"

She explained seriously and in great detail.

Grandpa Trident fell silent.

He had thought she was about to ask sothing significant.

Instead, it was... food.

If it were about water-elent spells, relationship, love affairs, emotional disputes, he could offer guidance.

But food?

All he ever chugged was wine.

Yet when he saw the seriousness on her face, he couldn’t bring himself to brush her off.

He cleared his throat.

"Hold on. What is a mung bean? And this... wagyu?"

"It’s a kind of bean often made into sweet paste, and wagyu is—"

Chunhua suddenly stopped.

This isn’t right.

At this rate, the conversation would completely derail.

Besides, all this talk of food was making her hungry.

"Grandpa, let finish the story first."

After a while, Grandpa Trident finally realized what she was really asking.

This girl was asking about relationships—just using food as a cover.

An amused glint flashed in his eyes.

You’ve co to the right person!

If he claid to be second best in matters of love and emotional entanglent, no one in the seas would dare claim first!

He straightened up, stroked his white beard, and spoke in a solemn, elder-like tone.

"The plain dumpling’s worries may be unnecessary. Everyone has different tastes. This mix-mix may not favor the rich, layered flavors of hotpot. It may prefer sothing light and simple instead."

"As for that silly hotpot—perhaps it dislikes mix-mix’s coldness and seeks sothing equally intense. Who knows? Hotpot might even prefer another hotpot."

"It’s Sichuan hotpot..." Chunhua muttered under her breath.

Still, her heart eased slightly.

She glanced toward Bai irin.

She wasn’t worried about Haoran. She trusted him.

What concerned her was Bai irin’s temperant—once that woman decided on sothing, she would pursue it relentlessly.

If possible, Chunhua wanted to turn Bai irin into a friend, even an ally. In the later stages of the ga, she would need all the help she could get.

Grandpa Trident followed her gaze and instantly understood who Silly Hotpot was.

At the sa ti, Bai irin was quietly stunned.

She hadn’t expected this elegant, refined-looking woman to possess such steady knife skills. Long Haoran looked like soone who belonged among mountains and scrolls, the type who cultivated arts and temperant rather than standing over a stove.

Yet the precision of her movents told another story.

The distance between the two wasn’t far.

Bai irin’s gaze shifted to Haoran’s hands.

The way her thumb and forefinger rested against the blade was natural and restrained, without a trace of ostentation. The signs were unmistakable—the flattened thumb pad, the faint line along the middle finger, the small, healed burns.

She recognized them instantly.

A mory surfaced.

"Grandma, why do your hands look different from mine? They’re smooth, but worn. When I touch them, they feel like the crust of a golden mooncake—warm and firm."

"When I press harder, the callouses feel like sweet filling of a wife cake. Even the lines on your fingers remind of lotus seed paste buns. Grandma, you have such beautiful hands. I wish mine were like yours."

A gentle pat landed on her cheek, brushing away flour.

"Silly kitten. Grandma’s hands are like this because she’s cooked for many years. Yours are far more delicate and lovely."

"But if my hands were like yours, I could make all the pastries I want."

"You will. Grandma will teach you."

"Really? Then it’s a promise."

Bai irin’s gaze toward Haoran changed.

A trace of longing flickered within her eyes.

"...Grandma."

Noticing the shift in her expression, Grandpa Trident frowned slightly.

"Why do I feel like she’s looking at the pan-wielding one as if she’s about to say affectionate words? Did I misjudge... or is this so strange love-at-first-sight trope?"

Chunhua’s eyes widened.

Didn’t you say hotpot would find another hotpot?!

Lost in her thoughts, Bai irin’s hand slipped. Flas licked her skin.

"Ouch!"

Although their physiques had improved, it was still early. Their resistance to fire remained limited.

A shadow flashed.

When Grandpa Trident turned, Chunhua—who had been standing beside him just monts ago—had already appeared in front of Bai irin. What is she doing there?

"Are you alright, Miss Bai?"

Bai irin looked down at the hands holding her burned fingers, then up—into a pair of clear, tranquil blue eyes.

Like a spotless lake.

She could clearly see the concern within them.

Her heart skipped a beat.

They had known each other for less than a day, yet this person cared so earnestly. How could she not be moved?

She turned her head slightly, her voice soft and shy.

"I’m fine. Don’t worry. It just hurts a little."

"Let take a look. I know so healing magic. It won’t leave a scar."

Bai irin’s smile deepened. She edged closer.

"It’s really nothing... but since you insist..."

Behind a tree, Bai irin’s three subordinates was dumbfounded.

Their leader was soone even when heavily injured, she would not utter a single cry but now, she was complaining like a child over a small burn.

What was wrong with their leader?

Grandpa Trident stared, dumbfounded.

"...Sothing is wrong with the genre."

Just as Chunhua was about to cast the spell, she felt the temperature around them dropped.

Haoran, watching from behind: (ꐦㅍ _ㅍ)