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

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

together sounded pretty

it

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

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

brought some greens, while Monkey, with a sly grin, produced a slab of smoked

meat

Stella dared

he wasn't looking,

chilies-plants readily available from the plantation where

never going hungry." He was helpful 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

pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle for brick-hauling work. "Sis, got any barbecue? I've been

his sister there. Bran raised an eyebrow,

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 though Austin himself had to

restrained than in his former high-class neighborhood. Monkey, seasoned in business, treated everyone like a client, always leaving

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 praised him. Oh, how he missed his diamond-studded

with bell peppers 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