18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 462

Her question hit him like a punch to the gut, but Bran answered honestly, "Construction. Hauling bricks."

Stella sized him up, noting the scars on his face and hands-evidence of a hard-fought survival. In the face of natural disasters, everyone was equal, even a tycoon's son.

She didn't pry about his life since they'd parted ways. Even if recounted with a smile, the tales were likely steeped in brutal truths.

"How about we treat you to a meal when you're off?" she offered.

At the mention of food, Bran's eyes lit up. "Barbecue?"

"You wish. After all these years of disasters, and you're still dreaming of a feast?" Despite her words, the joy of reunion was undeniable. "Rosie's been working at the plantation. I'll see if I can scrounge up some spices so you can indulge a bit." Bran perked up. "How are Rosie and your hubby doing?"

She gave him her address. "Doing alright. Swing by when you're free."

Bran lived in Area C and spoke his mind. "Sis, I'm free on the weekend."

Alright then. A weekend it is. They'd have themselves a proper bash.

lean but still proud. He looked much better than the last time she saw him rummaging through trash. He seemed to have found a solid reason to keep living. He no longer ran away from familiar faces out of shame. There he was, half a month in, already hauling bricks. It seemed the privileged

housed over twenty thousand souls, with a hospital, a salt plant, a food factory, water purification, and plantations all operational. Life was still tough, but better than before. Of the two thousand plus from South

basics, people needed emotional ties and interactions. Planning a meal together sounded pretty good. Jasper suggested, "How about we dine in the

it up

propagated. After consulting with Stella a few times, she'd mastered some massage techniques, benefiting her son and husband's health with regular practice. Monkey, all smiles, appreciated his wife's increasing kindness. He eagerly accepted the dinner invite, pondering what special thing he could bring to repay his sister's

evening. Ten years post-disaster, there was no hope for hot pot seasonings. The submarine had an air extraction system, and Stella had set up an induction cooker and an oven. With some dips and a few hot dishes, they

some greens, while Monkey, with a sly grin, produced a slab of smoked meat. "Sis, this is the good stuff.

smoked meat

but Stella

he wasn't looking,

the plantation where Rosie

her son picked the veggies on the side, the boy's eyes frequently darting to the chopping board, his mouth watering at the

long since shed any pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle for

That was his sister

labor, his inherent pride persisted. Bran respected only those stronger than him, like Stella and Jasper, who had seen his countless humiliations. In front of them, he could forgo

his former high-class neighborhood. Monkey, seasoned in business, treated everyone like a client, always leaving room for face-saving. Unbothered by Bran's attitude, Monkey chuckled, "Looks like the young master's gotten even more

you're gonna flatter me, lay it on thick." It had been ages since anyone had praised him.

with bell peppers stir-fried with smoked meat, steamed salted fish with fermented black beans, and garlic chili sauce.