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.

went back to his bricks. Stella 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,

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 Base, even fewer were from Griffith. Stella only knew Monkey's

interactions. Planning a meal together sounded pretty good. Jasper suggested, "How about we dine in the submarine? Invite Monkey's

set it up

herbs she'd 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,

the evening. Ten years post-disaster, there was no hope for hot pot seasonings. The submarine

grin, produced a slab of smoked meat.

meat

but Stella dared not

wasn't

prepared leeks, mustard greens, bell peppers, and chilies-plants readily available from the plantation where Rosie worked, ensuring they had what they needed. The smoked sausage

and her son picked the veggies on the side, the boy's eyes frequently darting to the chopping

cakes. He had long since shed any pretense

his sister there.

had seen his countless humiliations. In front of them, he could forgo pride, but that didn't mean

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

glance wouldn't cost him a thing; the real skill was in earning cash. Bran's mood instantly lifted. "If you're gonna flatter me, lay it

in the hands of the junior chef, with bell peppers stir-fried with smoked meat, steamed salted fish with fermented