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.

watched him leave 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

a hospital, a salt plant, a food factory, water purification, and plantations

meal together sounded pretty good. Jasper

it up for the

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

seasonings. The submarine had an air extraction system, and

grin, produced a slab of smoked meat.

smoked meat

but Stella dared not

wasn't looking,

a similar piece from Arcadia, Stella had prepared leeks, mustard greens, bell peppers, and chilies-plants readily available from the plantation where Rosie

was helpful and even pitched in with the prep. Miranda and her son picked

pound of fish cakes. He had long since shed any pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle for brick-hauling work. "Sis, got any

shifted. That was his sister there. Bran

respected only those stronger than him, like Stella and Jasper, who had seen his countless humiliations. In front of them,

eyebrow, though his tone was much more restrained than in 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

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

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