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.

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, half a month in, already hauling bricks. It seemed the privileged second-generation man had fully grasped the harsh reality and was

work, Stella mentioned Bran 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

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

it up for

son and husband's health with regular practice. Monkey, all smiles, appreciated his wife's increasing kindness. He eagerly accepted the dinner invite, pondering what special thing he could bring

post-disaster, there was no hope for hot pot seasonings. The submarine had an air extraction system, and

grin, produced a slab of smoked meat. "Sis, this is

meat

Stella

wasn't looking,

similar piece from Arcadia, Stella 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 and

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

of fish cakes. He had long since shed any pretense of dignity, choosing to hustle for brick-hauling work. "Sis, got any

his sister there. Bran raised an eyebrow, "What's

tycoon's son, even reduced to 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

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

it on thick." It had been ages since

steamed salted fish with fermented black beans,