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.

found a solid reason to keep living.

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

emotional ties and interactions. Planning a meal together sounded pretty good. Jasper suggested, "How about we dine in the submarine? Invite

They'd set it up for

husband's health with regular practice. Monkey, all smiles, appreciated his wife's increasing kindness.

hope for hot pot seasonings. The submarine had an air extraction system, and Stella had set up an

produced a slab of smoked meat. "Sis, this is the good stuff. Took me

meat looked

but Stella dared

he wasn't

leeks, mustard greens, bell peppers, and chilies-plants readily available from the plantation where Rosie

and even pitched in with the prep. Miranda and her son picked the veggies on the side, the boy's eyes frequently darting to the chopping board, his mouth watering at

pound of fish cakes. He had long since shed any pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle

That was his sister there. Bran raised

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,

high-class neighborhood. Monkey, seasoned in business, treated everyone

a thing; the real skill was in earning cash. Bran's mood instantly lifted. "If you're gonna flatter me, lay it on

with smoked meat, steamed salted fish with fermented black beans, and garlic chili sauce. The aroma made