Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Aroma of Meat

"Don't worry, we understand," Liu Chang and the others nodded and took their leave.

"Do you know where the kitchen the company commander assigned to us is?" Once outside, Liu Chang picked up the limping little girl.

"I do."

"That's good, then."

"How are your injuries?" Li Qingshui asked.

"It's nothing. That little wolf dog didn't have a strong bite. It only broke the skin, didn't touch the muscle or bone. It hurts a bit, but doesn't affect my movement." Liu Chang glanced down at the wound on his leg and added, "Actually, I feel like my wounds are healing faster than before. By tomorrow, it should be fine."

"That's a relief. Hunting is something that can't be neglected for a single day." Li Qingshui glanced at the crossbow in Liu Chang's hand and continued, "Though you have your weapon now, and after this meal you'll have your strength back, people still need three meals a day, and food doesn't keep. We have to maintain a sense of crisis. Besides, there's always at least a fifty percent element of luck in hunting. We can never afford to be careless."

"I know," Liu Chang nodded, gazing out at the crimson sky. "In this world, I've never allowed myself to be careless."

"Mm."

Chatting idly as they walked, Li Qingshui led Liu Chang and the others to a kitchen. Standing at the door, Liu Chang noticed the kitchen was quite small—not the kind for cooking in bulk for the troops, but filled with small pots and stoves, likely meant for preparing meals separately for the leadership.

"This is the place. Fatty, go call Zhu Lin over. Let's eat together."

"Got it!" With Li Qingshui's instruction, Fatty darted off, moving nimbly, nothing like a man who had gone hungry for days in the apocalypse.

"Heh, just mention food and everyone's spirits rise," Liu Chang laughed. "Come on, Teacher Li, let's go in and start cooking."

"Alright." Li Qingshui nodded, rolling up his already torn short-sleeved shirt above his shoulders, then carrying the meat inside.

What followed was a flurry of culinary activity—Liu Chang rarely cooked at home, as children with living parents are always lazy about such things. Still, while he might not have eaten pork, he'd certainly seen pigs run, so he had a general idea of what to do. He set the crossbow aside and, together with Li Qingshui, laid the meat on the chopping board and began slicing and preparing it.

"Haha, I told you I'd bring you some meat today!" Liu Chang said to the little girl standing beside him, waving a slice of meat with pride. "See? Told you we'd have something to eat!"

"Mhm." The little girl stared at the meat, swallowed hard, and nodded vigorously.

While they spoke, Fatty had returned with Zhu Lin, and the two joined in the cooking. Handling food won at the risk of their lives, Liu Chang cherished every morsel, pausing to consider each cut, afraid of wasting a single piece of this blood-red bounty.

Li Qingshui insisted on boiling the meat plainly to retain all its nutrition—his reasoning was that the broth could be drunk, replenishing energy, and this method lost fewer nutrients than other forms of cooking, making it better suited for survival.

His irrefutable logic won everyone's agreement, and before long, a large pot of dog meat stew was set before the five of them.

The cooked meat exuded a rich aroma. The five of them inhaled deeply, gathered around the pot, almost reluctant to start eating.

"I finally understand why people in ancient times gave thanks before their meals!" Liu Chang clasped his hands together with chopsticks between them. "Right now, eating feels like being granted a blessing!"

"Haha, then let's thank the heavens for granting us food!" Fatty declared, ladling a steaming spoonful of broth and, without even blowing on it, gulped it down. Letting out a long sigh, he exclaimed, "Thank the heavens—this is what life is!"

"It's a hundred thousand times better than that foul-tasting soup we had last night," Liu Chang said, scooping up a spoonful and savoring it. The rich flavor washed over his taste buds, spreading all the way to his mind. His pores seemed to open with that one mouthful, and he couldn't help but echo Fatty, "Thank the heavens."

"Don't mention that dish. This morning, Zhu Lin and I were so hungry we forced ourselves to eat some of that rotten stuff you left behind yesterday. It was awful," Fatty said, stuffing another large piece of meat into his mouth.

"Ha! You said you couldn't eat it before, but Teacher Li was right—a starving man will eat anything!" Noticing the little girl beside him hadn’t touched her chopsticks, Liu Chang picked up a piece of meat and placed it in her bowl, smiling. "Eat, eat, eat! Don't be shy—half of this meat is thanks to you! Today, each person gets at least three pounds, bones and all, so eat your fill!"

"If it's not enough, I'll get you more tomorrow!"

"Mhm." The little girl glanced at Liu Chang, her reservations gone, and began eating and drinking heartily like a stray kitten.

Everyone was immersed in this fleeting happiness—the stolen meal in the apocalypse was a paradise amidst despair. Each enjoyed this moment in silence. The room fell into a rare peace, broken only by the primal sounds of humans swallowing their food.

As the meal drew to a close—

"After we finish, you should practice with that crossbow," Li Qingshui was the first to break the tranquility. Setting down his empty bowl and chopsticks, he instructed Liu Chang, "Practice makes perfect. I don’t know much about archery, so you’ll have to figure it out yourself—it's all about familiarity. Also, the crossbow is too new and a bit shiny. Rub some ash on it afterward; it'll help with concealment."

"Got it," Liu Chang replied, popping the last piece of meat into his mouth.

The happiness of the meal passed swiftly. The large pot of meat and broth, bones and all, was devoured down to the last crumb. Sated, the group left the now-empty kitchen—only seasonings remained. The other four returned to the dormitory, while Liu Chang, alone, went to a deserted corner of the military compound to study his crossbow.

Standing in the mist-shrouded grass, Liu Chang examined his new tool. Like most cold weapons, its structure was simple and similar to those he’d seen on television: a curved bow with metal strings at each end, a long stock, and a horizontal groove at the front holding seventeen crossbow bolts. The arrowheads were arranged in a cross, designed for easy retrieval during shooting and to prevent injury during rapid movement.

Beside the body was a small lever for drawing the string. Liu Chang tried it and found it required considerable strength—an untrained person would struggle to load it.

For him, though, it was manageable. He drew the string, took one of the long bolts from the groove, raised the crossbow, took aim at a tree several meters away, and pulled the trigger.