Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Black Steamed Bun

The conversation between Xie Han and Taishan was attended only by Xu Qiang, who sat nearby clutching his submachine gun, eyes closed, listening intently. Everyone else had already flocked to the kitchen, unable to resist the allure of cured meat; young and old alike had abandoned their dignity, wishing only for the meal to be ready. Yet cooking rice with cured meat in a steel pot was no easy task—if handled poorly, it would burn.

Chu Tianhe, the chef among them, was sweating profusely, not daring to relax for a moment. Everyone knew how precious this cured meat was; if he spoiled it, the others wouldn’t even need to glare at him for him to punish himself. Because of this, he complained from the kitchen to Xie Han in the living room: “Boss, this steel pot easily scorches the rice. There should be some smart rice cookers in the market outside—could we trade some rice for one? I’m thinking of your stomach, after all.”

Xie Han didn't mind Chu Tianhe using his stomach as an excuse; recalling their cooking, he felt his stomach tighten. He fully supported Chu Tianhe’s suggestion, saying, “Alright, I’ll go out later and see if I can get a smart rice cooker in exchange.”

Now, Xie Han felt he still had many unresolved matters, such as the management personnel here, but those seemed too far removed. Taishan, however, answered all of Xie Han’s questions to the best of his knowledge. Taishan, too, had decided to rely on Xie Han; after all, in the apocalypse, everyone sought nothing more than food and clothing. Now that a goal had appeared, attaching himself felt like the smartest move.

By two o’clock, the door rang. Xie Han glanced at the display screen on the door: outside stood three men in chef uniforms. The man pressing the bell looked surly, his expression impatient; behind him, two younger men struggled to carry a large basket covered with cloth.

Taishan took one look and understood, telling Xie Han, “These are the food distributors from the base, likely here to allocate provisions.” Xie Han was puzzled. “Isn’t food collected at the distribution center? Why are they delivering it now?”

Taishan smiled wryly at Xie Han, but remembered he’d only arrived yesterday and couldn’t know these things. He explained, “Boss Xie, you know how things work here. If everyone collected food at the center, how could the distributors keep any for themselves? With thousands collecting, they’d risk public outrage. Delivering door-to-door is different—they have reasons to skim, and with people dispersed, there’s less threat to the staff. Everyone knows tricks are played with food allocation, but most endure it. Even if someone objects, the distribution staff aren’t shy about using food to let other departments deal with troublemakers.”

Xie Han was left speechless. He couldn’t understand—everyone was struggling in the apocalypse, all ants on the same pot; why keep doing this? It seemed centuries of ingrained greed weren’t easily erased. As the master of the room, Xie Han’s voice was recognized by the smart system, so when he called to open the door, it slid open automatically.

“What’s taking so long? Are you eating or not?” The door had barely opened before the surly voice rang out. The fat man strode in, his half-closed eyes sweeping the room coldly. He snorted, “My time is valuable—there are several blocks left to serve. Damn, I don’t know what the higher-ups are thinking, giving food to these lazy pigs who don’t work. What kind of policy is that?”

He didn’t care who was inside, spoke loudly, and didn’t bother to glance at Xie Han’s face. Instead, he beckoned his assistants to bring out four steamed buns, tossing them onto the shoe cabinet by the door, muttering, “This unit has two residents, each gets two buns.” Any extra people in the room weren’t his concern; if a crowd had to share two buns, that wasn’t the distribution office’s problem.

Seeing the fat man’s piggish demeanor, Taishan could no longer sit still. He was a man of status in this block, and now that he wanted to attach himself to Xie Han, how could he let such insults go unanswered? He strode up to the fat man, grabbed his collar, and cursed, “Who are you calling a lazy pig, you fat bastard? Want me to blow your brains out?”

The fat man showed not a trace of fear, laughing coldly. “Oh? You want to blow my brains out? I’ve seen plenty like you. Let go, or the armed police will invite you for tea. Any assault on distribution staff gives us the right to deny you food. Without food, you can eat shit for all I care!” He sneered, snorting contemptuously.

Taishan’s anger flared, veins bulging, muscles knotting as he lifted the fat man effortlessly. Pointing furiously at the four buns, he shouted, “The distribution office has gotten cocky, huh? Are these even buns? White turned grey, grey turned black—is this fit for human consumption?” He picked up a bun and stuffed it into the fat man’s mouth with a savage grin. “Let’s see how you like the taste of this black bun.”

Under Taishan’s strength, the entire blackened bun was forced into the fat man’s mouth, spilling black powder everywhere. The fat man struggled, but his efforts were nothing against Taishan’s power. “Still feeling cocky? Telling me to eat shit? Want me to shoot you?” Taishan turned to Xie Han. “Boss, how should we handle this guy?”

The two assistants outside, carrying the buns, started to rush in, but seeing Xu Qiang’s gun pointed at them, they held back in silence. Their faces showed more anger than fear; distribution staff were usually treated with deference, but now they’d been humiliated—if word got out, their reputation would suffer.

Xie Han saw through Taishan’s display of loyalty; tearing relations with distribution meant he’d have to rely on Xie Han to survive. Still, the fat man’s attitude disgusted him. But if he wanted to stay in the base, beating someone wasn’t a big deal—causing a death would only bring trouble. So Xie Han waved his hand calmly. “Slap him a few times and throw him out. As for the food, leave it.”

With orders given, Taishan’s grin grew more ferocious. He slapped the fat man’s face repeatedly, knowing his own strength; after ten or so blows, the man’s teeth were nearly all knocked out, blood soaking the bun powder and staining the floor. Finally, Taishan kicked him hard in the belly, sending him flying out the door. Spitting contemptuously, Taishan growled, “If I see you again, I won’t mind beating you a second time.”

The fat man couldn’t speak, only pointed at Taishan with a trembling finger, uttering muffled sounds. His two assistants hauled him away, and he vanished into the elevator.

Taishan dusted off his hands, cursing, “The distribution office thinks holding the power of life and death means they can bully whoever they want. Damn it, if I weren’t trying to survive, I’d blow their place sky-high. What kind of trash dares call me a lazy pig?” Xie Han merely smiled, having witnessed such scenes often and grown indifferent.

What Xie Han hadn’t expected was that the bespectacled, frail man who’d been hiding now moved aside whatever blocked his door, cautiously opened it, and, seeing the black buns at the entrance, dashed out like an arrow, snatched two buns lightning-fast, and vanished back into his room. The door slammed shut, followed by the sound of something being wedged against it.

“Damn…” Witnessing this, even Xie Han couldn’t help cursing, “What kind of mess is this?”

(ps: The book has been signed today, so feel free to add it to your collection. Rainwater will give you a proper ending, whether or not it ultimately succeeds.)