Chapter 68

“Potato shreds, potato slices, potato chunks.”

“Why is it all potatoes?!”

It was seven in the evening at No. 4 Warehouse.

All the residents of Happiness Street had gathered.

The old bulb overhead flickered faintly, shining right down on the round table.

It illuminated five full plates of golden potatoes!

Lin Xiaobao raised his little hand, correcting them. “Our family brought potato chips, not potatoes.”

The Tri-Colored Trio poked their heads out from the side, correcting him in return. “It’s potatoes! It’s potatoes!”

“No! No!”

“It is, it is!”

“It’s…” Grandpa Zhang wanted to smooth things over, but when he met Lin Xiaobao’s stubborn little gaze, he changed his tune. “No, what Little Bao brought isn’t potatoes.”

What a spineless grandpa—he was even telling white lies about something like this.

The Tri-Colored Trio furrowed their brows, their expressions complicated as they looked at him.

Lin Xiaobao sat in his chair, swinging his feet back and forth. “Grandpa Zhang’s isn’t potatoes either.”

The Tri-Colored Trio asked again, “Then what is it?”

Lin Xiaobao raised his little hand and announced loudly, “It’s potatoes!”

“Right.” Grandpa Zhang burst out laughing. “Little Bao is so smart.”

Da Mei and Xiao Mei chimed in together. “Then what we brought isn’t potatoes either. It’s sweet potatoes.”

“Hee hee!”

The Tri-Colored Trio deflated a bit. “Fine, if that’s how it is—”

Red Hair picked up a plate of potato slices, and Yellow Hair grabbed some chopsticks, poking two holes in one.

Green Hair explained, “What we brought isn’t potatoes either. It’s lotus root. Lotus root slices.”

Just then, the pot on the induction cooker came to a boil.

Fat Uncle and Fat Aunt quickly waved them over. “Alright, alright, enough with the ‘potato this’ and ‘potato that.’ The pot’s boiling—let’s see what to add first.”

The broth at the bottom was clear, with just two pieces of radish and a bit of celery. You could see straight to the bottom.

Luckily, they’d all brought some meat dishes.

The Tri-Colored Trio hurriedly tore open a pack of instant noodles. “Here, here—braised beef flavor. We can toss the seasoning packet right in!”

“No! Don’t use that!”

Grandpa Zhang, who was a bit older, along with Fat Uncle and Fat Aunt, all objected together.

“The oil in instant noodles is unhealthy. It stinks up the whole pot of soup!”

“Then…”

Grandpa Zhang stood up and got things organized. “Let’s boil the chicken. This is free-range, nice and healthy.”

The two sisters added, “We’ve got hot pot meatballs and enoki mushrooms too. Let’s throw them in and make a mushroom broth base.”

“Fine.”

Half a plate of chicken and half a plate of meatballs went straight into the pot.

The bubbling pot immediately calmed down.

They cranked the induction cooker to max power, and it hummed loudly.

They’d have to wait at least another twenty minutes or so.

In the meantime, Grandpa Zhang passed out cups to everyone.

They were the little glass ones that came free with the beer—one for each person.

He cracked open a family-sized bottle of cola with a hiss, passing it from one end of the table to the other. Everyone got a cup.

The moment they took a sip of cola, everyone let out a long sigh of relief.

It had only been a couple months since the zombies broke out, but it felt like a century had passed.

It had been so long since they’d had a modern drink like cola.

“Refreshing!”

Lin Zao gripped his paper cup, threw his head back, and drained it in one go.

When he looked down, Grandpa Zhang was holding a straw out to him. Grandpa Zhang glanced at Fu Cheng, who was sitting beside Lin Zao.

Fu Cheng was being very good.

Little Zao had told him to sit quietly without fidgeting, and so he sat quietly.

Little Zao had made him wear the bite guard and mask without taking them off, and so he kept them on.

He was like a wolf dog, hunkered down in his chair. He’d glance at Lin Zao, then at Lin Xiaobao, then at the little dog.

He couldn’t eat anything, but he still seemed pretty happy.

As long as he was with Little Zao and Little Bao, he was happy.

Lin Zao glanced at Grandpa Zhang, guessing his intent, and tentatively took the straw.

He poured half a cup of cola, stuck the straw in, pulled down Fu Cheng’s mask, and slipped the straw through the gap in the bite guard.

Fu Cheng didn’t get it, so Lin Zao patted his head.

—Drink! Drink it quick!

The neighbors fell silent, all turning their heads away, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.

They were blind. Totally blind.

Lin Zao pressed his lips together and explained softly, “Um… Brother Cheng has a cold… Don’t want to spread it to you guys…”

His voice was so quiet, it was like he was telling the neighbors—or maybe just himself.

At least he’d said it.

Fu Cheng finished the cola, and Lin Zao quickly pulled the straw back.

Time, which had seemed frozen, began to flow again.

The neighbors livened up once more.

“Grab a ladle and skim off the foam! Don’t want it too gamey.”

“Can we eat yet? Can we eat yet?”

“Let it boil a bit longer, make sure it’s cooked through!”

The older folks were always extra cautious about that.

Overcooking was fine, but it had to be fully cooked.

“In times like these, if you get a bad stomach, there’s no medicine to fix you.”

Everyone clutched their chopsticks, staring intently at the colorful meatballs bobbing in the pot.

Before the disaster, they hadn’t thought these were anything special—maybe even unhealthy.

Now? They weren’t worried.

The taste of modern industry was the best.

While they waited, Lin Zao peeled the two heads of garlic he’d brought from home and passed them out.

One clove per person, plus a bit of soy sauce and vinegar—perfect hot pot dip.

A good while later, everyone was starving beyond endurance.

“Is it ready? Is it ready? The meatballs are floating—they must be done!”

“Is there someone who can call it? Can we eat now?”

“Don’t rush. I’ll taste one first.”

Grandpa Zhang controlled the ladle, not handing it over.

He scooped up a meatball, poked it open with his chopsticks.

Hot steam burst out immediately. Grandpa Zhang took a bite and passed the ladle around.

“Here you go.”

“Yay!”

At his word, everyone jumped up.

There weren’t many meatballs to begin with—barely one or two per person among the dozen or so of them.

Lin Zao fished out a crab stick for Lin Xiaobao, then grabbed a fish ball each for himself and Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng couldn’t eat yet, so Lin Zao put it in his bowl, figuring he’d handle it later at home…

A pair of chopsticks snaked out from the corner like a viper and snatched the fish ball.

Fu Cheng watched wide-eyed as his fish ball vanished before him.

In the end, Lin Zao popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

Lin Zao clamped his mouth shut, pretending nothing had happened—even as he puffed out his cheeks, chewing furiously.

It was so good!

If Brother Cheng wasn’t going to eat what was in his bowl, then he would!

In under three minutes, the hot pot meatballs were wiped out.

Grandpa Zhang didn’t like them much and specially gave his share to Lin Xiaobao.

Next came the various meats and veggies.

The pre-marinated pork loin went into the strainer, blanched briefly—tender and slick.

The canned lunch meat was dug out in chunks, loaded with big fatty pork bits, salty and fragrant.

And the chicken that had been simmering longest—free-range rooster, a bit tough and fibrous, with real chew to it.

These too were just a tiny mouthful per person—gone in a flash.

That was when the handmade noodles Lin Zao had brought came in handy.

Handmade noodles, plus instant noodles, plus wontons, with a handful of lettuce.

Boiled together, it made a simple bowl of wonton noodles.

The meats were sparse, but the carbs filled you up.

And if the carbs ran low, they still had all those potatoes.

They maxed out the induction cooker.

The pot bubbled away nonstop.

Hot steam rose in clouds as they sat around the table, eating, drinking, chatting, and laughing.

“Who wants lotus root slices?”

It was really potato slices.

“Who wants more noodles?”

Really potato shreds.

The potato shreds had been soaked ahead of time, so they came out crisp.

The potato chunks hadn’t, so they turned out soft and glutinous.

Grandpa Zhang boiled two potato chunks, mashed them with the ladle, and mixed in a scoop of the rich meaty broth. He let Lin Xiaobao try it.

“Mmm!” Lin Xiaobao took one bite and started nodding and shaking his head. “So good! It’s exactly like KFC mashed potatoes!”

“KFC Grandpa, I want mashed potatoes too!”

“Me too!”

Lin Zao held his bowl out. The two sisters and The Tri-Colored Trio held theirs too, lining up beside him.

“We all want some!”

Amid the rising steam, someone raised their cup.

“Here!”

Everyone else lifted their glasses.

They clinked with a crisp ring.

“Gongxi facai!”

“What good’s getting rich now? We should say ‘Safe travels in and out!’”

“Get rich with supplies!”

“Say them all! Safe travels, gongxi facai!”

Outside the window, it was pitch black, wind howling as if rain was coming again.

Inside the room, though, it was lively and warm.

Everyone chorused together, “Happiness Street forever happy!”

The hot pot lasted nearly until ten.

Every dish was cleaned out, including the five plates of potatoes.

Lin Xiaobao had gotten full ages ago. He told his dad and hopped down from his chair to play with the equally stuffed little dog.

Now that he’d played himself out, he ran back to his dad, hugging his leg and leaning against him. His eyes drooped, his head nodding.

“Dad, I’m sleepy.”

“Alright, we’ll head back soon.”

Lin Zao picked him up and handed him to Fu Cheng to hold.

“So, we calling it?”

“Yeah, calling it. No food left.”

“The soup’s all gone.”

Everyone stood, clearing their bowls, plates, and chopsticks.

“Just leave the bowls and utensils here. Next hot pot, we’ll use them again—no need to haul them back and forth.”

Fat Uncle said, “We can’t do hot pot every day, though. It’s satisfying, sure, but you eat way more than at home.”

“Exactly,” Fat Aunt agreed. “We don’t even eat dinner anymore. Soon as it gets dark, we hit the sack. Sleep through the hunger.”

Red Hair asked, “Uncle, want to head out again tomorrow? Scrounge more food?”

“Sure. Just don’t know where. Supermarkets are stripped bare, and the countryside trip last time turned up no grain.”

“You know, before the zombies hit, the city had plenty of food stocked. How come once they outbreak, it’s like it all vanished into thin air?”

“Everyone’s hoarding, that’s why. Stashed it at home.”

“Let’s go poke around anyway. Who knows…”

Before he finished, Grandpa Zhang said casually, “If worst comes to worst, we should start growing veggies.”

Growing veggies?

Everyone’s eyes lit up at that. They looked up.

Yeah! Grow their own!

Grandpa Zhang went on, “It’s spring now—perfect time. Gotta get on it quick.”

The two sisters frowned. “But… it’s all concrete here. How do we plant?”

“Plant outside.”

“What if someone steals it?”

“Then grab some big boxes, dig soil from the hills outside, and make planter boxes.”

As they talked, they couldn’t help sitting back down to keep discussing.

Lin Xiaobao mumbled a couple times from Fu Cheng’s lap.

Lin Zao stroked his little head, letting him sleep on.

“What to plant? Rice and wheat won’t work. Cabbage and radishes don’t fill you up.”

“Plant—”

Everyone exchanged glances and spoke at once!

“Potatoes!”