Zombies may not need to eat, but the students of Martial Arts Class 1 still need to satisfy their hunger. If this survival battle really lasts for three to five years, then the content of "how should we fight this time" will probably account for less than 10%, and the rest will be all about "where should we eat this time".
Time slipped by quietly amidst the rare, serious discussion, and before we knew it, it was noon. The winter sun was as gentle as a lover's eyes, and the frost and snow on the ground began to melt silently under its gaze. But this was destined to be a slow and long process, because the soft, warm light was almost too gentle, as if each melting snowflake made the snowflake feel a pang of pity, so it desperately suppressed its heat, wanting this silver-clad world to linger a little longer, much longer.
"Shouldn't we start a fire and cook?" Li Jingyu's stomach had been growling for ages. Seeing that no one else was going to bring it up, he could only tentatively suggest it, while subtly expressing his unwillingness to eat vacuum-packed sweet and sticky chestnuts and wafers anymore. "We're not going to have snacks for lunch again, are we?"
"Still eating snacks?!" Compared to Li Jingyu, Qiao Siqi was much more free-spirited, saying whatever came to mind and speaking his mind directly. "I'm so craving meat now that I bite my tongue every time I eat. If this keeps up, I might bite my tongue and kill myself!"
Zhou Yilu also wanted to eat rice and meat, but he disagreed with Johns's accusation: "You're craving meat? All those squid strips and beef jerky have gone to the dogs?"
Qiao Siqi was a little embarrassed, and after a long while he muttered under his breath, "Didn't you eat it too?"
Zhou Yilu didn't even bother to roll his eyes: "Yes, thank you for those two strands."
Lin Dilei couldn't help but stand up, stretch her arms and legs, and tied her hair back with a hair tie on her wrist: "What do you want to eat? I'll make it for you!"
Li Jingyu: "Rice!"
Luogeng: "Steamed bun!"
johns: "Meat!"
Qi Yan: "Bring some vegetables too, for a balanced diet."
Wang Qingyuan: "Then let's add another soup."
Zhou Yilu: "Isn't there an oven over there? Actually, it would be nice to have some baked rice, lasagna, or other exotic dishes."
"..." Lin Dilei lowered her head, took several deep breaths, and when she raised her face again, she smiled and said very gently, word by word, "You spoke too fast just now, I didn't remember it, could you repeat it again?"
The seven martial arts performers collectively swallowed hard. In that instant, their seven souls achieved an unprecedented level of harmony—
"As long as there's enough to eat, that's fine."
The kitchen on the first floor features a large, integrated stove, a long strip with more than a dozen burners. Each burner has a giant wok, so big that the spatula is as big as a shovel. A single batch fills an entire iron plate, making it a true giant wok dish.
The spacious first-floor kitchen has two separate small rooms on either side. One is a storage room for rice, flour, and cooking oil, and the other is a separate gas room located seven or eight meters away from the stoves. Through the glass, you can see four gas cylinders standing inside. This is clearly the fuel source for the dozen or so large stoves. These gas cylinders are much larger than ordinary household liquefied gas cylinders, which looks a bit strange at first glance, but they match the large stoves and pots, creating a harmonious overall effect.
While running to the cafeteria, everyone was worried that if the cafeteria used the city-wide gas pipeline system, then with the heating off, the situation with natural gas or coal gas probably wouldn't be much better. They only felt relieved after arriving and discovering that it used gas cylinders.
However, an even more serious problem arises – the gas cylinders have a fixed capacity, and once the fuel inside is used up, they need to be replaced entirely. Under the current circumstances, no one will come to replace them. So what will we do when we need to cook? Initially, we might be able to find leftover gas cylinders in the kitchens on the second and third floors, but of course, there's the risk of disputes with the students from Class 2. Even if we manage to find some, they'll eventually run out. What will we do then? Creating an everlasting Olympic flame is unrealistic. The number of combustible items in the entire cafeteria can be counted on one hand: cutting boards, rolling pins, that's it. All that's left are non-combustible pots and pans, and the plastic benches and metal tables outside.
Since there's no solution for the time being, let's focus on the immediate problem.
Lin Dilei walked into the gas room, carefully inspected the gas cylinders, and finally patted each one, coaxing them like children: "I hope you can last a few more days."
As the only remaining man capable of cooking, Zhou Yilu naturally had to help out, so he followed her into the gas room. Seeing Lin Dilei making a wish on the gas cylinder, he simply went up and hugged each cylinder, shaking them vigorously a couple of times.
The liquid inside the container made a series of sounds as it was shaken rhythmically.
A moment later, Zhou Yilu stood the last jar upright again and announced the results of the analysis: "Two of them are about half left, and the other two are less, at most one-third left."
Lin Dilei had never used a gas cylinder before; her family had always used the city's gas pipeline. Even when she came to university, she secretly cooked with electricity, so she earnestly asked, "How long can it last?"
"The gas canister my family used to use, if I remember correctly, was 15 kilograms," Zhou Yilu said. His family hasn't used gas canisters in recent years, so he could only try to recall based on his vague memory. "If you were cooking normally, it would last about a month and a half." He looked closely at the bottle in front of him; it clearly stated 50kg. After a rough calculation, Zhou Yilu had a rough idea of what it would be like. "Now there's 0.5 * 20.33 * 2, which is 1.66 of the large canister. The large canister is 3.33 times the size of the small canister, so 1.16 * 3.33 * 1.5 is 8… Okay, I won't calculate the decimal part carefully, let's just say eight months."
"Eight months? Are you sure?"
"Theoretically speaking," Zhou Yilu said, not daring to be too certain. What if his classmates prepared for a year, but after only four months, the fire went out? He figured his life would be extinguished along with it.
Even just theoretically, it was exciting enough. Lin Dilei practically hummed a little tune as she lit the stove under Zhou Yilu's guidance…
boom!
The moment the huge flames ignited, if Lin Dilei hadn't dodged quickly, several strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead would have been singed away.
"Your house fire is this fierce too...?"
"Well..."
"I'll give you one more chance."
"At this rate of combustion, it should last for two months without any problem!"
Has anyone told you that acting cute when a woman is angry is tantamount to suicide?
"..."
The canteen stoves are different from those in homes; they're specially designed with an outrageously powerful flame. Zhou spent half a day in the gas room trying to adjust the hydraulic valve, all to no avail. If he turned it down too low, the flame would go out immediately. Even when he managed to keep it burning, the flame was about the same size as when cooking at home. Before he could even feel happy, he realized that this heat was simply insufficient for the large pot stove; the food wouldn't heat up even after a long time. If he continued to use such a low flame, the gas consumption per unit time would decrease, but the total gas consumption would be prolonged until the food was cooked, resulting in the same high consumption.
If he had to choose between stir-frying over high heat and simmering over low heat, Zhou Yilu would rather save time and have a quick and easy meal—with that in mind, he stopped hesitating and decisively turned up the heat.
This put Lin Dilei in a difficult position.
She was in a real rush while cooking this dish. Throughout the process, she missed the small kitchen on the second floor, where she could leisurely cook bean sprout soup. Here, she had to stir-fry at four times the speed, or the dish would burn.
While Lin Dilei was enthusiastically swinging a shovel, Zhou Yilu was struggling with the rice steamer. After studying it for a long time, he finally managed to put the rice-filled and water-soaked iron tray into the steamer. With a "let's give it a try" attitude, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and pressed the start button.
The six friends watched the whole thing from a distance, and were filled with emotion.
Qiao Siqi: "They look even more nervous than when they were fighting zombies..."
Li Jingyu: "I was so engrossed in it."
Luo Geng: "And they were sweating. In such cold weather, they were sweating."
Josh: "You're making it sound like they're doing something shady."
Wang Qingyuan: "Only you think that way!"
Song Fei and Qi Yan: "Uh..."
"I'm sorry, I'm just too unsociable." Wang, the only student who hadn't gotten a driver's license, decided to go to the side and have some peace and quiet.
The rice was undercooked, and the cabbage was stir-fried until it melted in your mouth. Fortunately, there were plenty of slices of meat, which saved this disastrous lunch. The students of Class 1 of Martial Arts didn't care whether it was too pitiful for eight people to share one dish. Anyway, there was a big bowl of dish, so they all wolfed it down, enjoying the long-lost taste of home-cooked food.
At first, some people would occasionally say a few words, muttering to themselves with their cheeks puffed out, commenting on the food or chatting idly. But later, no one spoke up anymore.
A strange emotion revived along with my gradually warming stomach.
In the past, no one would have thought such an ordinary meal was unusual. But after eating instant noodles, eight-treasure porridge, and snacks for more than ten days, and after experiencing all sorts of thrills and hardships, sitting down and eating such a meal again, it was hard to remain calm. It turns out that the most comforting things in the world are those things you never pay attention to but are extremely familiar with, such as the plants and trees of your hometown, your parents' instructions, and the smoke and aroma that wafts from the stove at home every day.
A tear fell into her rice. Lin Dilei held the bowl, lowered her head, and blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears that were about to spill.
No one noticed.
Because the male students weren't much better off; some missed home, some missed their mothers, but men don't easily shed tears.
Song Fei sniffed, finished the last bite of rice, and felt the atmosphere was a bit oppressive. Looking around, she suddenly had a bright idea and quietly got up.
"What are you doing with the spatula?" Qiao Siqi, who hadn't finished eating, noticed that Song Fei took a spatula from another empty pot.
"It's okay, you eat yours," Song Fei said dismissively, walking towards the window.
Qiao Siqi shrugged, ignored him, and continued eating.
The other comrades also glanced at Song Fei, but given his habit of not following the usual path, they let him be.
Apart from Qi Yan.
As soon as Song Fei reached for the shovel, Qi Yan knew what he was going to do, so he remained vigilant from beginning to end.
Unaware of his surroundings, Song Fei remained oblivious. After confirming there were still no zombies outside, he quietly opened the window and used a large spatula, almost indistinguishable from a shovel, to gently scoop a thin layer of snow from the still-unmelted ground. He carefully retrieved the spatula, laid it flat on the ground, closed the window, and then squatted down to gather the snow from the spatula into a small snowball in his hand.
Everything is ready, except for the unlucky one.
With a wicked grin, Song Fei turned around, intending to walk back, when she met Qi Yan's dangerously narrowed eyes.
Song Fei was embarrassed and quickly made a "shh, be quiet" gesture.
A hint of suspicion flashed in Qi Yan's eyes, but she remained silent.
Song Fei tiptoed up behind Wang Qingyuan, who was still eating, hooked his collar with her index finger, and swiftly shoved a snowball into his neck with her other hand.
By the time Wang Qingyuan realized something was wrong, the icy snowballs had already rolled deep into his clothes, leaving a chilling, refreshing sensation wherever they went.
Wang Qingyuan managed to hold back his scream, but he jumped up immediately. He glanced at Song Fei's expression and the shovel under the window and understood what was going on. Without saying a word, he went over to open the window and shovel snow!
Half a minute later, Wang Qingyuan's snowball was nimbly dodged by Song Fei and finally hit Qiao Siqi in the face behind him.
Qiao Siqi wasn't about to suffer in silence, so he immediately joined the fray.
Within minutes, the entire Martial Arts Class 1 was in a joyful snowball fight mode. Although they didn't dare to shout too loudly, everyone's face was filled with long-lost happiness.
—Except for Qi Yan.
As the first person to discover Song Fei's intentions, Qi Yan's emotional journey was incredibly complex. Initially, he was smug, thinking, "See, I saw through you!" Later, he threatened, "You dare throw me at me?" Then, judging from the other's nonchalant expression, he realized that Song Fei's original target wasn't him. Finally, the one who ended up being favored was Wang, a classmate he still couldn't bring himself to like.
It's truly a painful thing to be delusional.
In a corner of the kitchen, Qiao Siqi and Zhou Yilu, who had taken a break from their intense battle, noticed an unusual quiet from their comrades in the distance—
Qiao Siqi: "What's he thinking about sitting there again?"
Zhou Yilu: "I don't know."
Josh: "You look really annoyed."
Zhou Yilu: "I have too many thoughts and I always overthink things."
Qiao Siqi: "If you fell for someone like Song Fei, could you still be carefree and continue to be silly and happy?"
Zhou Yilu: "It depends on how you put it..."
Speak of Cao Cao, and Cao Cao will call out from the other side—
"Qi Yan, what are you doing sitting there like an old man? Come on, have some fun! Anyway, Zhou Yilu said we can at least hold out here for three months!"
The two looked away and continued—
Qiao Siqi: "What do you mean?"
Zhou Yilu: "I became a monk the day I realized I was in love."
The Korean-style kitchen on the second floor had six heads sticking out of the window.
Fu Xiyuan: "Why are they sticking out a shovel to dig for a bit every now and then?"
Wu Zhou: "We're in an ancient capital, so there are a lot of graves here. Have you found any clues?"
Zhao He: "Stop talking nonsense. At a time like this, you're still going to raid tombs?"
He Zhiwen: "Maybe he's thinking of digging a side hole to go into the tomb and hide from the zombies."
Feng Qibai: "We've hidden from the zombies, but what if we encounter them again?"
He Zhiwen: "I find that you have a very sharp mind..."
Huang Mo quietly left the window, found a corner to sit down, and began to seriously consider whether or not to switch classes.