Live Streaming Food Stall… But in Dog-Blooded Novels – CH134

Chapter 134

There was still one lingering doubt.

If this young man was truly a hidden powerhouse, why would he set up shop in the remote depths of Zone F? Could a real big shot not afford protection fees?

But the squad quickly dismissed the thought.

—Big shots didn’t operate by normal logic! Maybe this one just enjoyed slumming it in the boonies?

Besides, wasn’t Yi Chunqing’s attitude proof enough?

With that realization, the entire 11th Squad gazed at Jian Yunlan with newfound reverence.

“Sorry, sorry! We didn’t recognize greatness!”

“Yeah, boss… I mean, owner.”

“One bowl for me.” “Same here!” “Make it two!”

The younger members remained skeptical—no matter how good the porridge, without enhancers, how good could it really be?

But if Grandpa Qing was fawning over this guy, they couldn’t afford to offend. Even if not for the owner’s sake, they had to save face for Yi Chunqing.

Social graces.

And three credits was nothing.

Unlike low-rankers like Wang Peng, the 11th Squad’s core members had all been handpicked by Mu Dongsheng. The lowest among them was B-rank, with hundreds of credits saved up.

Three credits a bowl? Pocket change. The porridge itself didn’t matter—what mattered was not embarrassing Grandpa Qing by snubbing this hidden VIP!

Thus, they eagerly shoved their ID cards forward.

Jian Yunlan: “?”

The sudden shift was baffling, but—customers!

His spirits lifted. “One at a time, please! Form a line—there’s enough for everyone.”

Yi Chunqing, having only sampled a bite, was far from satisfied. He could easily down ten bowls of this porridge.

Gripping his cane, he joined the queue, the others falling in behind him.

Soon, a line stretched before Simple Porridge.

…The sole holdout was the buzz-cut mercenary.

He stubbornly turned away. No way was he drinking Zone F slop! That’d mean surrendering to Li Zhou’s bullying. And enhancer-free porridge? Hard pass.

But with six others in line, the stall was bustling.

Nearby vendors watched enviously.

—This was Zone F. Most stalls were lucky to sell three or four portions a day.

A queue in Zone F? Unheard of!

Yet on his first day, this newcomer had customers lining up?

Their eyes burned with jealousy.

“Three bowls, as ordered.” Jian Yunlan handed Yi Chunqing a tray. “Careful, it’s hot.”

[Task progress: 4/500]

The system updated instantly.

Yi Chunqing carried the tray to a seat, lifting a bowl to blow on it before taking a blissful sip. His eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy.

“So good…”

Next was the blue-haired girl—Murong Miao.

An A-rank mercenary despite her youth, she was Yi Chunqing’s prized disciple. Proud but obedient, she’d queued up dutifully despite her doubts.

“One bowl,” she said primly.

With the porridge pre-cooked, service was swift.

Soon, Murong Miao and her peers huddled together, scrutinizing their bowls.

Unlike Yi Chunqing, they’d only bought one each.

The freshly ladled porridge steamed invitingly, its consistency perfect—neither too thick nor too thin. The rice grains had bloomed softly, topped with a glossy layer of congee oil.

Flecks of dark century egg and pinkish pork dotted the surface, garnished with scallions. The aroma was intoxicating.

Gulp. Gulp.

Their stomachs growled in unison.

But… weird.

“This looks nothing like the porridge we know,” Murong Miao muttered. “So why does it smell amazing?”

The buzz-cut mercenary, the only one who hadn’t queued up, stood off to the side.

Despite his dismissive words, his gaze kept drifting toward the bowls in his teammates’ hands before he forcefully looked away.

Who cares about some lousy porridge?

He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig—alcohol was enough for him.

The porridge-holding mercenaries huddled together, murmuring:

“I thought porridge was supposed to be red, yellow, or green. White means no enhancers, right?”

“My mom said before the apocalypse, people ate plain porridge—light and easy on the stomach…”

Gurgle!

Someone’s stomach growled loudly.

“Pfft—Ha!” Murong Miao pointed at the culprit. “Pathetic! Getting hungry over plain porridge? How starved are you—”

Then her stomach roared even louder:

GRRRROWL!!!

Murong Miao: “…” Shattered.

Others: “……”

The young mercenaries exchanged glances.

Steam curled from their bowls as their faces twisted with conflict. One by one, their stomachs erupted into a symphony of growls.

Embarrassment hung thick in the air.

They were ravenous.

But no one wanted to be the first to cave.

In their early twenties, talented and stubborn, they were as prideful as children refusing to back down.

Finally, someone whispered:

“Maybe… just one bite? Wasting food’s bad. And… aren’t you curious how it tastes?”

“Kinda am.” “Yeah.” “One bite won’t kill us.”

“Then on three. Three, two, one—”

Spoons lifted in unison.

Then—

“……!!!!”

The moment the porridge touched their tongues, their eyes widened.

This was unbelievable.

Nothing like the enhancer-loaded slop they knew. No artificial heaviness—just pure, natural flavor.

…The rice melted silkily on their tongues. Though the spoonful held no meat, the essence of century egg and pork had seeped into every drop, rich and fragrant.

Tiny shreds of tender meat dotted the porridge, bursting with savory goodness at the slightest bite, melding perfectly with the creamy rice.

“Tech porridge” used huge meat chunks for sensory impact. This porridge’s meat was finely shredded—

At first glance, they’d assumed the owner was skimping.

But one taste shattered that notion.

These shreds, though small, outshone any tech porridge’s bland slabs! Here, the meat enhanced the porridge—subtle yet omnipresent, elevating every mouthful.

“So good!”

“No enhancers, but so fragrant! Warm and natural.”

“This meat—tiny but insanely delicious! It makes the porridge!”

Words failed them. Spoons moved faster.

Some abandoned utensils entirely, gulping straight from the bowl.

The heat spread through them, seeping into their bones.

On this freezing, perilous night, huddled in this tiny stall’s glow, sharing this porridge—

It filled them with something precious.

This simple, tangible warmth was what the apocalypse had stolen.

Tears pricked several eyes:

“So good… so happy.”

“For this porridge, I’ll slaughter every pollutant tomorrow—just to come back for more.”

“If only… Captain Mu could’ve tasted this. He’d have loved it.”

The murmur hung in the air.

Heads bowed.

Throats tightened.

Captain Mu.

Strong. Kind. The one who’d died protecting the Eastern Base, now forever lost to the frozen wastes.

If only he, too, could’ve known this warmth—

Just one bowl of porridge…