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.

was okay, Bran 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.

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

basics, people needed emotional ties and interactions. Planning a meal together sounded pretty good. Jasper suggested, "How

it up for the

her son and husband's health with regular

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

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

meat

Stella dared not

wasn't looking,

had 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

in with the prep. Miranda and her son picked the veggies on the side, the

shed any pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle for brick-hauling

Monkey's gaze shifted. That was his sister there. Bran raised

countless humiliations. In front of them, he could forgo pride, but that

he arched an 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 chuckled, "Looks like the young master's

gonna flatter me, lay it on thick." It had been ages since anyone had praised him. Oh, how he missed his diamond-studded slippers, the slick

in 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. The