Chapter 148
Under the disappointed gaze of the vultures, Jiang Jitang followed Yue and his two children into their living quarters.
To avoid being wiped out in one strike, the prairie rat tribe digs winter shelters in scattered locations. Yue had chosen to dig a den beneath a dead tree stump to survive the winter.
At first, the passage, about ten meters long, was pitch black and increasingly narrow, only crawlable. But the large cavern at the end was a different matter.
Inside, something emitted a faint glow. It was pieces of bark, glowing with a soft, white luminescence.
“This is the sweat of a ferocious beast called the ‘Liejian.’ It likes to scratch on tree trunks, leaving sweat that solidifies and glows. It can glow for a long time, disappearing only when the warmth returns next year.”
Yue looked around at his carefully arranged cavern—about ten square meters—and thanks to a certain powder, it remained dry.
The floor was covered with a half-meter-thick layer of dry grass, keeping them warm when nestled inside. Some glowing bark was attached to the walls. Through the dim light, several dark entrances were visible: the left passage led outside, the right to the storage room, and a section at the bottom, blocked by planks, led down several meters to their toilet area.
The toilet contained dry soil and leaves to absorb odor. In winter, waste could not be left outside, or it would attract predators.
Smaller passages at the top contained hollow logs for ventilation.
This would be their sleeping and resting place.
“Don’t you need water?” Jiang Jitang asked.
“Yes.” Perhaps because they were back at home, or because they now had food and clothing, Yue’s tension relaxed, and a smile appeared. “I’ve stored two wooden barrels of water. Later, when snow falls, we can collect and melt some for drinking.”
“Father, should these be stored in the same cavern as the grains and dried meat?” The eldest clutched a ten-jin (about 5 kg) bag of dried sweet potatoes carefully, fearing a single piece might fall.
Jiang Jitang wanted to see the storage room anyway, and put the remaining supplies inside. “Can I come along?” he asked.
The eldest looked to Yue, who nodded.
Crawling through the narrow passage for a few minutes, they reached a small storage room, only four or five square meters.
Being closer to the ground, it was colder than the resting area and naturally acted as a cold storage room in winter.
Yue, skillful and meticulous, had installed two tree trunks on the wall, from which smoked meat hung in various sizes, filling the room and giving a reassuring impression.
The two children smiled in satisfaction. Yue looked a little worried, while Jiang Jitang quickly scanned the meat and estimated its total weight—about twenty jin.
Despite being smoked, the meat still dripped fat onto the lids of the wooden barrels below.
The barrels, hollowed from whole tree trunks, contained water and dried seeds. Six barrels occupied half the floor space. Jiang Jitang opened them: two held water, three contained grains and roots, none full, and one was empty.
The eldest son poured a small bag of newly collected grains into the empty barrel, raising the storage level by only 0.5 cm.
He pouted, disappointed, until two hands reached from behind and poured the ten-jin bag of sweet potatoes into the empty barrel, filling it halfway.
The eldest looked up to see Jiang Jitang smiling at him.
The prairie rat tribe endured hardships well, staying outside to gather food until the first snow fell.
Once it snowed, they would enter their dens for winter, staying for two months. When all food was consumed and warmth returned, the tribe emerged, squinting to adjust to the light and welcoming a new beginning.
According to the task details, this storage contained all the food the family would need for the most difficult two months. Judging by the amount, the small quantity of dried meat and grains wasn’t enough, explaining why the family had been pushed to the brink of exhaustion.
After storing the sweet potatoes, Jiang Jitang hung ten jin of smoked fatty pork on empty tree branches. One rack after another, the smoked meat gleamed with crystalline fat. Yue and his youngest watched mesmerized.
Winter could now be survived.
But Jiang Jitang hadn’t finished. He opened other barrels, placing apples and grapefruits inside, explaining to the family how to eat them.
Apples could be eaten directly, but grapefruit required peeling. If teeth were strong and not picky, even the outer skin could be nibbled for vitamins.
Finally, he revealed jars of fermented rice wine.
When ten jars appeared, Yue’s eyes nearly popped. He knew of pottery, but, like cloth, it was only possessed by large tribes. He had never imagined owning so many.
Yet the food inside was the most precious to him.
“These jars contain fermented rice wine. Children should eat little. Don’t open if you won’t eat; once opened, it must be consumed in a few days, or it spoils.”
Alcohol was precious to Yue, too. His tribe had it, but as sacred items for communicating with spirits, only the chieftain or shamans could partake. Here, however, were ten jars.
Finally, he revealed the large baked oval breads—harder than stones, dark yellow. Yue tapped one with force; it rang a hollow sound.
“What is this?” It was lighter than stone, fragrant, not wood.
“It’s bread. Very hard. You break it into pieces, soak in water to soften, or soak in fermented rice wine. It doesn’t store long—about thirty days, roughly equal to the total days of your three fingers, so eat early.”
Yue listened attentively, memorizing every word.
His two children, hearing it was food, nearly drooled. Jiang Jitang handed each a piece of sweet potato. The smaller one happily chewed, tugging at his brother’s skirt: “Brother, eat.”
The elder shook his head wisely: “I’ll save it for winter.”
“No problem, the godly envoy gave it—eat.” Yue patted his son’s head. He wanted to eat but controlled himself.
The jars and bread filled the storage room floor. With no room to stand, they returned to the main cavern. Their new cotton robes were placed on the grass nest. Despite no fire, they could still feel warmth.
Jiang Jitang added the remaining cotton pants and socks. He clapped his hands: “Done. That’s it.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, sir, godly envoy.” Yue searched his treasures; nothing could match this gift. Half an ivory tusk of a mammoth could not exchange for so much. Everything was a blessing, yet he was not a devout believer.
“No need to thank me. Your hard work and courage caught someone’s attention, and the ivory you obtained was exchanged for these. If you must thank anyone, thank yourself for never giving up.”
In this era, raising two children alone was difficult, but seeing their condition, it was clear Yue cared well.
Even insignificant people, through effort and hardship, deserve the favor of fate.
Jiang Jitang exited the passage. At first narrow, requiring crawling, it gradually widened, allowing him to walk upright. Ahead was brightness.
Like the fate of Yue’s family—he hoped.
He hoped they could move from hardship to light, from rugged paths to smooth roads.
“Let’s go.” Jiang Jitang hummed as he saw vultures still circling, smiling at the thought: “Sorry, bald eagles, looks like there’s no food for you here.”
Because they would survive.
Back in the real world, the streets bustled, full of fragrant food. Though he had just eaten breakfast, somehow he was hungry again.
“I’m not greedy. I’m following my body’s needs… Ah, little eyes, let’s go eat ‘Ba Wang Bie Ji’!”
Golden Eyes opened wide, blinking eagerly: okay, okay, let’s go!
‘Ba Wang Bie Ji’ is a dish of stewed free-range chicken and soft-shelled turtle, with the broth as the base.
The proper way to eat: first savor the broth, then eat the meat, then add other ingredients.
He chose a small local restaurant open for fourteen years, specializing in this dish. Regulars had watched the owner evolve from single to a parent of two.
The soup included only medicinal herbs like angelica, wolfberry, and salvia, plus free-range chicken and turtle, with some seasonings for aroma, salt, soy sauce, and cooking wine—light, sweet, and flavorful. Not like spicy hotpot or plain seafood hotpot, but still delicious.
“One person can’t finish such a big pot alone.” Hotpot required two or more for the full experience.
Without hesitation, Jiang Jitang messaged Parsons, asking if he was free for a meal.
“At this hour?” Parsons looked at his watch—9 a.m. hotpot? Not impossible; he had breakfast at 7 a.m. and exercised, burning enough calories.
“Perfect timing. The magical beast egg you gave me should be hatching soon.”
“Oh? What a coincidence.”
“Yes, I saw a crack this morning. Now there are three cracks—it should hatch soon.” Parsons looked at the ring box in his hand. The egg was still inside, its white shell with patterns now showing three small cracks.
“I want to see! I want to see!”
“Probably in the afternoon,” Parsons laughed. “No way you see it in the morning.”
“Then afternoon it is. Let’s eat first. Later, at my place, we’ll watch it hatch. Should we record it? Many people do.”
Parsons had no objection; he agreed to everything.
They arranged to meet at 10 a.m. at “Xiao Liang Ji Bao.” With time to spare, Jiang Jitang went to buy drinks to bring along.
Though many restaurants forbid outside drinks, young people brought milk tea frequently, so rules didn’t apply to drinks and snacks.
He bought turtle jelly.
The small shop, sandwiched between a baby food store and a rice cake store, was a century-old family business, passed down three or four generations.
The shop’s turtle jelly was homemade, made from cooled jelly, turtle shell plates, and herbs. Jiang Jitang had tried making it himself—tedious and unstable—better to buy ready-made.
Beside the stainless steel container were small condiment boxes. Customers could add ingredients themselves.
“Add buffalo milk, nothing else.” He had tried various recipes. Milk’s sweetness paired with the jelly’s herbal taste gave a surprising blend.
“Two large cups, buffalo milk only, 38 yuan total. Scan this.” The clerk prepared the order.
Scanning the code, Jiang Jitang noticed the clerk carried in-game items.
‘A player?’
Wearing a red maple scarf and transparent mask, laughing with colleagues, the clerk showed no tension typical of players—only occasional discomfort when others approached.
Was she naturally cheerful?
On the way to Xiao Liang Ji Bao, he observed the surroundings. Jin City, rich in resources, reportedly attracted many players. Usually riding his scooter or car, he hadn’t noticed them before. Now he did.
Players had to work or study, endure harsh dungeon conditions, and survive in human society.
‘If only I could ease their living burdens…’ he thought, though he wasn’t sure how.
“Many players come from other cities,” Jiang Jitang considered. “They must be renting now.”
Housing in Jin City was expensive. Renting added to ordinary players’ burdens. Coincidentally, a well-known real estate developer, Zhao Jianming’s father, had recently bought suburban land, building hospitals, a stadium, shooting range, and combat training camp nearby.
He could buy a building, make apartments, and rent to poor players at minimal prices—a win-win.
Considering Zhao Jianming’s father’s long-term vision, Jiang Jitang felt persuading him to release a building was likely. Perhaps he could push further.
“System, can the Dream-Fulfillment Food House move to a new address?” he suddenly asked.
He had thought of this earlier. That street corner was small, not a player community. Ordinary students ignored it, but often watched players queue. There were already rumors of it being haunted.
“Yes,” the system replied.
Jiang Jitang clapped his hands: “Then it’s settled. Actually, it’s a bit too cheap for him. Maybe take two buildings instead? One isn’t enough to divide.”
