Chapter 75

Fu Cheng loved summer the most.

Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao hated summer the most!

Especially a summer with such unreliable electricity!

“Clang clang clang—clang clang clang—”

It was the stuffiest, hottest part of the day, right around noon.

The sound of neighbors banging on their iron basins echoed from outside once again.

Lin Zao and Fu Cheng were sweating profusely in the kitchen.

At the noise, Lin Zao instinctively ducked his head and glanced at the induction cooker in front of him.

Sure enough, the power had gone out again!

Fu Cheng reflexively lifted the iron wok, about to move it over to the nearby gas stove.

But Lin Zao held his hand back and tossed a handful of roasted seaweed flakes into the pot.

“Brother Cheng, this pot of meat floss is just about done. No need to switch to the gas stove—the pot still has some residual heat. Just give it a quick stir-fry, and it’ll be ready to come off the fire.”

“Got it.”

Fu Cheng brandished the spatula, flipping the heaping pot of meat floss this way and that.

Meat floss had a terribly low yield—a big hunk of meat only produced a single small jar.

But there was no helping it.

The power had been so unstable lately, cutting out every other day. Even when it flickered back on, it usually lasted only half an hour.

A few nights earlier, The Tri-Colored Trio had driven up to the mountain reservoir to take a look.

The weather was scorching, and the reservoir had all but dried up. The water was shallow as a ditch.

No one had maintained the reservoir’s pumps, so they were probably broken too.

Fortunately, there were still fish in it. The Tri-Colored Trio had scooped up half a crate on their way back down.

Crucian carp, carp, wheat spike fish—they caught them all.

But there weren’t many, and they weren’t particularly plump. The carp especially had more bones than meat.

Once they got back and shared the news with the neighbors, everyone piled into their cars with crates and nets to go fishing.

They returned to throw a whole-street fish feast.

Steamed fish, fried fish, pan-fried fish, fish porridge, fish soup.

White fish meat was low in fat and not as filling as red meat, but for them, it was a rare treat of fresh protein.

There were too many fish to eat all at once, so they took the leftovers—about a dozen—and set them up in a water bucket and a crate with some added water, veggie leaves, and grains of rice. They kept them in No. 4 Warehouse for the time being.

At first, they were thrilled—a silver lining to disaster.

But it wasn’t long before they realized the problem.

They had no idea how to raise fish! Not even Grandpa Zhang, the agriculture expert.

Fish weren’t like chickens. Chickens grew big in a few months, but fish barely put on size no matter what. Plus, fish needed fresh water changes every day, which was an outrageous waste. They were rationing water so tightly they barely used any for washing up.

In the end, after some discussion, they decided against keeping the fish long-term or trying to breed them like the chickens.

So for the past few days, fish had featured at every meal as they raced to wipe out the stock.

They’d eaten their fill like that for days straight, yet somehow everyone had started losing weight.

Lin Xiaobao was the exception—his strength had only grown. At night in bed, he flailed his little legs so hard he nearly kicked a hole through the bedboard and almost booted Fu Cheng right off the mattress.

He’d eaten so much fish, he seemed to think he’d turned into one himself.

The power shortages brought headaches beyond just the surplus fish.

No electricity meant no lights, no fridge, no rice cooker, no induction stove—everything was useless.

The neighbors had agreed to stay vigilant: whenever the power cut out or came back on, someone would bang on a basin to alert the others so they could rush to cook or boil water.

Even so, it was hardly enough to cover a full day’s needs.

Lin Zao had no choice but to crack open their long-sealed gas canisters and cook on gas.

He only dared to open the valve a crack, carefully planning each meal—for instance, steaming vegetables and rice together in one pot, or cooking extra rice to eat cold next time.

The other neighbors did the same with whatever gas they had left.

Those without alternative stoves, like The Tri-Colored Trio, went full primitive: foraging for firewood outside, roasting potatoes in the embers, and setting kettles and pots atop to boil.

Cooking wasn’t the only pressing issue at Lin Zao’s house, though.

There was the freezer.

It was still stocked with half a pig.

Over the past few months, Lin Zao had meticulously rationed their meat—not too much, not too fast.

Barring accidents, that half pig should have lasted the three of them half a year if they stretched it.

But now, the accident had arrived.

With the freezer on the fritz, the meat thawed and refroze, thawed and refroze. A few more cycles, and it would go bad.

Lin Zao had tried every salvage trick he could think of: sealing the door tight to trap the cold air, pre-freezing blocks of ice to toss in during outages for insulation.

He’d even tried stuffing his ice-cold zombie husband inside to act as a refrigerant.

But nothing worked.

The outages lasted too long, the heat was too intense, and the cold air—and the ice blocks—dissipated in no time.

As for his zombie husband…

He still wanted to hold Fu Cheng close at night, didn’t want Fu Cheng picking up the pork’s off-smell, and with Fu Cheng gazing at him all pitifully… after three seconds of hesitation, he’d let it go.

Lin Zao racked his brain and finally fell back on the old reliable: dividing the remaining pork into fat and lean portions. The fat went to render lard and pork cracklings; the lean became meat floss, all packed into jars.

Making sausages was too fiddly, he didn’t know how to smoke meat, and curing it would take too much salt—not worth it.

Pork cracklings and meat floss were the easiest to store—the best options.

So starting the day before yesterday, Lin Zao and Fu Cheng had been hunkered down in the kitchen, racing the clock to process the rest of the pork.

The kitchen was a hotbox, even with every door and window flung wide. Lin Zao was drenched in sweat and kept pressing up against Fu Cheng now and then to cool off.

They finished off the big cuts that way, leaving just the offal.

Conveniently, there was a basin of frozen braising liquid in the fridge from their previous pig-head-meat batch. Now that the power was out and it was thawing, they rushed to braise the organs in it. Boiling it daily would kill bacteria and make it last longer.

The moment the power cut, everyone flew into a panic.

Only then did Lin Zao truly appreciate how much convenience modern electricity had brought them.

“Alright, pour it out.”

Lin Zao fetched a shallow iron basin. Fu Cheng lifted the wok one-handed and tipped the meat floss into it, gently scraping it smooth with a wooden spatula.

Steam rose in fragrant waves as Dad and Big Daddy toiled away.

Meanwhile, Lin Xiaobao was outside with the little dog, zooming around with his toy car.

He set the car on the floor and gave it a mighty shove.

The car barreled in from the dining room, zipped over the sliding door’s floor track, grazed past Lin Zao’s feet, and smacked into Fu Cheng’s.

“Dad…”

Fu Cheng kept his upper body still as he stepped back, lifting his foot just enough to pin the car steady beneath it.

If it wasn’t retrieved soon, he’d flatten it!

“Aiya! Big Daddy! No way!”

Lin Xiaobao hollered and dashed over. He pounded Fu Cheng’s leg twice with his little fists and rescued the car from underfoot.

“Big Daddy, you’re a big meanie! You’re bullying the little car!”

Fu Cheng’s expression didn’t change as he withdrew his foot and set the wok down.

That wasn’t what he’d said last time.

Last time, he’d called him the world’s best Big Daddy and sworn to repay him when he grew up.

Lin Zao glanced between the two of them, then prodded the meat floss lightly with his chopsticks. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Little Bao, the kitchen’s too hot. Why don’t you head back outside and play with the little dog a bit longer.”

“It’s hot outside too.” Lin Xiaobao clutched his car. “I wanna play in the water with Dad.”

“Just a little longer, then. Once Dad and Big Daddy finish the meat floss, we’ll come.”

“Mm.”

“Go on out first. Don’t get heatstroke.”

“Okay.”

Lin Xiaobao dawdled every third step until he reached the kitchen door, where he stopped.

The whole little guy leaned against the glass, pressing his chubby cheek to it and watching them quietly.

The little dog trailed at his heels and pawed at the glass too.

Lin Zao stirred the meat floss with his chopsticks to let the steam escape.

After working it a bit and feeling the basin’s warmth through the bottom, he decided it was ready and fetched some jars to pack it away.

The wok from stir-frying the floss was bone-dry—no need to wash. They could just leave it there.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Fu Cheng reached out to take Lin Zao’s hand.

But Lin Zao grabbed the household’s big clear water jug and shoved it into his arms instead.

“Brother Cheng, hold this tight—chill it down for us.”

Fu Cheng’s lips quirked. He cradled the jug in one arm and took Lin Zao’s hand with the other.

Fine.

The jug held water they’d boiled that morning. Lin Zao had sliced an orange, peeled a chunk of grapefruit, added some sugar, mashed out the juice, and stirred it all in.

They were thick-skinned fruits Fu Cheng had brought back earlier—kept in a cool spot, they lasted well.

In the cold weather before, they hadn’t cared for fruit; it hurt their teeth, so they ate maybe a bit of apple daily at most.

Now it was perfect as juice, chilled in Fu Cheng’s arms. Lin Zao and Lin Xiaobao both loved it.

It was their daily go-to for hydration and vitamins.

Fu Cheng held Lin Zao’s hand; Lin Zao held Lin Xiaobao’s; and Lin Xiaobao trailed the little dog.

“Let’s go—downstairs to play in the water.”

“Yay!”

Once the sun was up, the second and third floors turned into ovens.

The first floor, buffered by the neighbors’ buildings, stayed a touch cooler.

The moment they reached downstairs, Lin Xiaobao yanked free of his dad’s hand and bolted into the utility room.

As he ran, he tugged at his waistband and wriggled his arms out of his tank top.

“I’m gonna change into my swim trunks.”

“Alright.”

Fu Cheng dragged the plastic basin from the corner and set it on the floor.

Lin Zao scooped a ladle of water from the bucket and poured it in with a splash—half a basinful.

It wasn’t long before Lin Xiaobao dashed out of the utility room stark naked except for a pair of yellow swim trunks.

“I’m heeere!”

Like the Monkey King bursting forth, he charged to the basin’s edge and leaped right in.

The trunks were from last summer, when Dad and Big Daddy had bought an inflatable pool, filled it, and let him splash around.

With tap water so scarce now, they’d downsized to the little basin.

He’d grown taller and chunkier since then, so last year’s trunks rode up short and hugged tight.

They cupped his pudgy bottom, complete with a little yellow duck print.

Lin Xiaobao plopped into the basin and scooped water over himself with cupped hands.

“Wow! So refreshing!”

“So refreshing—”

Lin Zao settled into a nearby bamboo armchair. He mimicked the boy while filling a plastic squirt gun with water and zapping his little belly.

“Pew pew pew—”

Lin Xiaobao felt ticklish all over. He clapped his hands over his tummy and wriggled.

“Aiya! Dad, you’re such a meany!”

“Aw, don’t be mad.”

“Hmph!” Lin Xiaobao huffed loudly, flung a splash at Lin Zao, and demanded, “Dad, you come play too.”

“There isn’t a basin big enough for Dad, though.”

“We can use the bathtub! Have Big Daddy go upstairs and carry it down!”

“No can do—the bathtub’s fixed to the floor. How could we move it?”

Lin Zao pinched his chubby cheek, then felt the jug in Fu Cheng’s arms. Deciding it was chilled enough, he took it back and climbed right into Fu Cheng’s lap.

“Dad can sit in Big Daddy’s lap. Big Daddy’s nice and cool too—same difference.”

Fu Cheng nodded, only hugging him tighter. Little Zao was spot on.

“Then…” Lin Xiaobao scanned around until his eyes locked on a target. “Little dog, come play with me…”

“No no no!” Lin Zao cut in hastily. “It’s still too little for baths. You can hold it in, but it can’t. What if it pees in the basin?”

“Mmm…” Lin Xiaobao grumbled reluctantly. “Fiiine.”

“Here.” Lin Zao filled three glasses from the family set—one for each—and passed them around. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

The little family clinked their glasses together.

Orange for sweetness, grapefruit for tart bitterness, a touch of sugar to bind it.

The juice was tangy-sweet and ice-cold—a gulp was pure bliss.

“Ah—” Lin Xiaobao gaped wide and let out a big breath.

Lin Zao and Fu Cheng copied him, exhaling in unison.

“Ah—hahaha—”

Who could tell if they were sighing in relief or cracking up?

Lin Xiaobao drained his juice, set the cup aside, draped himself over the basin’s edge, and reached out to pet the little dog.

“Dad, it’s been so long already. When can the little dog have a bath?”

“Hmm…” Lin Zao counted on his fingers. “Around your birthday.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Lin Xiaobao’s birthday was in June. By then, the little dog would be three or four months old, with an immune system strong enough for its first bath.

“But no cold water—we’ll use warm.”

“Oh.” Lin Xiaobao nodded, half understanding.

He ran his hand down the little dog’s back, petting its fur, then asked, “After the bath… will it lose its color?”

Lin Zao reached out to ruffle the little dog’s head. “Shouldn’t anymore.”

“Huh?”

The little dog’s baby fuzz had fully shed, replaced by sleek new black fur.

Just like its mother, Little Black.

Lin Xiaobao looked stumped. “Then what do we do?”

“Call it ‘Little Little Black’? How’s that?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Too boring.”

“’Black’—that’s the English word for it.”

“Mmm…”

“Coal Ball? Spotty? Charcoal?”

Lin Xiaobao cradled his head in both hands, pondering seriously.

Lin Zao didn’t rush him—just let him think and poured a bit more juice.

Lin Zao nestled into Fu Cheng’s arms, the little husbands pressed close, eyes drifting shut as drowsiness took hold.

Some time later, Lin Xiaobao shot up a hand and declared, “Little Bear!”

Lin Zao startled awake and blinked at him in disbelief. “Huh?”

“Little Bear!” Lin Xiaobao repeated loudly. “I’m calling it Little Bear—the one from Journey to the West that stole the robes!”

“Works for me,” Lin Zao said with a smile. “Next time we run into bad guys, you just yell ‘Little Bear,’ and it’ll charge out. They’ll think a real bear’s coming for them.”

“Mm!” Lin Xiaobao bobbed his head vigorously, patted the little dog’s head, and started teaching it to recognize its new name.

Lin Zao yawned and turned his head, grasping Fu Cheng’s hand to guide his fingers to his own throat. He taught him the name of their newest family member: “Bear—Little Bear—”

Fu Cheng lowered his gaze and rested his head on Lin Zao’s shoulder, studying the word earnestly. “Bear…”

As he practiced, he couldn’t resist leaning closer. Through the bite guard, he brushed his lips against Lin Zao’s.

The nearby faucet was running, though only a trickle, dripping steadily into the bucket below.

Just a couple of scoops of water were enough to help them endure the sweltering afternoon heat.

By four o’clock, the weather had cooled a bit.

Lin Zao had Fu Cheng grab Lin Xiaobao by the arm and lift him out of the basin. He wrapped the boy in a bath towel and dried him off.

They couldn’t let him soak any longer—his skin was already pruning up. Any more, and he’d end up like one of Grandpa Zhang’s jars of prunes.

Lin Xiaobao stripped off his little swim trunks and slipped into Big Daddy’s black tank top.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon and the heat began to fade, the little family of three headed upstairs to check on the potatoes they’d planted.

The potatoes had been moved to a shady spot ahead of time to avoid the brutal midday sun. The leaves looked a bit wilted, but they weren’t fried yet.

The communal potatoes had gotten a sunshade canopy early too, so they weren’t suffering in the heat. It was the Two Sisters’ turn to water them today, so there was no need to go look.

That evening, there was still no power, but luckily some of the midday noodles had been left over. They reheated them and ate, pretending it was a simple bowl of cold noodles.

The other neighbors were doing the same—no evening activities, just a light meal to tide them over.

At seven o’clock, the sky wasn’t fully dark yet. A strange red glow lingered on the horizon.

The family relocated their base of operations, moving from the first floor up to the rooftop on the fourth floor to catch the evening breeze.

They spread out a mat up there—the same one they’d used last time for their night watch.

With pillows arranged, they lay back on the rooftop, enjoying the cool wind. It felt wonderful.

Lin Xiaobao had spent the afternoon soaking in the basin and was finally free of the heat. Full of energy now, he dashed around the rooftop perimeter with the little dog, chasing each other wildly.

Thank goodness Fu Cheng had reinforced the fourth-floor parapet with red bricks when he built the place. Otherwise, they never would have let the boy run around like that.

The wall was tall; Lin Xiaobao had to stand on tiptoe just to peek over it with his eyes.

He stood at the edge and waved his little hand. “Hello, Grandpa Zhang!”

Grandpa Zhang was cooling off on the rooftop of No. 4 Warehouse. Hearing the shout, he looked up. “Little Bao!”

“Hello!”

Soon after, a few familiar greetings echoed through the twilight gloom.

The neighbors on Happiness Street were all up on their rooftops, enjoying the breeze.

Lin Xiaobao called out to each of them in turn.

“Brother Bao, hot today, huh?”

“So hot!”

“Wanna come out and play? We could play hide-and-seek.”

“No way! Too hot!” Lin Xiaobao thought for a moment. “I… I wanna play Plants vs. Zombies.”

“But the computer’s not turning on.”

“Doesn’t matter… I can still play.”

Lin Xiaobao spun around and ran back to Dad and Big Daddy.

“Dad, can you figure something out?”

Lin Zao was nestled in Fu Cheng’s arms. “Dad doesn’t know how to generate electricity.”

Lin Xiaobao flopped dramatically onto his dad. “But I wanna play.”

“Let Dad think about it, then.”

Ten minutes later—

Lin Zao returned from the study downstairs, carrying a dusty old accordion.

It was a must-have skill for kindergarten teachers—he’d learned it specially back at school.

Lin Zao cradled the accordion while Fu Cheng dragged over a chair for him to sit on.

“Deng deng deng—”

As he tuned it, Lin Zao batted his eyes at Fu Cheng and shot him a flirtatious wink.

Lin Xiaobao sat on the mat, brimming with anticipation, practically bouncing.

“Brother Cheng/Big Daddy, you be the zombie!”