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.

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 second-generation man had fully grasped the harsh reality and was actively

to Jasper. Ocean Point Naval Station now 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 Base, even fewer were from Griffith. Stella only knew

ties and interactions. Planning a meal together sounded pretty good. Jasper suggested, "How about

agreed. They'd set it

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,

decided to push the gathering to the 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

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

meat

Stella

he wasn't looking,

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

was helpful and even pitched in with the prep. Miranda and her son picked the veggies on the side, the boy's

any pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle for brick-hauling work. "Sis,

was his sister there. Bran raised an eyebrow,

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 pride, but that didn't mean others could disregard him. Especially not someone like Monkey, a mere trader, even

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

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 on thick." It had been ages since anyone had

stir-fried with smoked meat, steamed salted fish with fermented black beans, and garlic chili sauce. The aroma made Bran's stomach growl uncontrollably. Unable to resist,