Live Streaming Food Stall… But in Dog-Blooded Novels – CH139

Chapter 139

Multiverse Live Broadcast Room, Saviors’ Zone.

After half a minute of silence, commentator Old K and the audience gradually arrived at an unbelievable realization:

“…”

“Could it be…?”

[I mean… is there a chance that this black-market porridge vendor “NPC”… is actually the dimension-hopper Jian Yunlan himself…?]

[Ah???? No??? What??? Him????]

[He blended in way too quickly and seamlessly—I genuinely thought he was an NPC! How is he so skilled at running a stall?! No, wait, why is he smoothly setting up a stall in a high-risk apocalyptic world?! What about the mission? Gathering intel? Saving the world???]

[(Facepalming) Sorry, our stall-obsessed Boss Jian is just like this. Please bear with him.]

In Jian Yunlan’s livestream, the hundreds of thousands of long-time viewers who followed him were already used to this.

But the new viewers were completely stunned, their perceptions thoroughly shattered by this utterly out-of-place scene…

While other streamers were diligently gathering intel, interacting with NPCs, and building relationships with the protagonist Mu Dongsheng’s former allies, this streamer named Jian Yunlan was setting up a porridge stall in the black market?!

Sure, his business seemed to be booming, but what good was that?!

Could he save the world by selling porridge?!

[Ridiculous.]

[Look on the bright side—we still have fifteen other veteran challengers, heh.]

[Hard to imagine that the fate of our Multiverse is entrusted to a stall-obsessed maniac like this…]

For many, this night was destined to be sleepless.

 

*

The Abnormal Era Dimension.

The lights in the dormitory were already off. It was midnight, and the entire residential area had fallen into silence, with only the occasional footsteps of night patrolmen outside the window marking the passage of time.

Jian Yunlan and Taotie lay side by side on a narrow double bed, the situation more than a little awkward.

…The bed was way too small.

Though it was admittedly warm.

As an ancient beast of calamity, Taotie radiated heat like a human-shaped furnace. Wherever he was, an endless warmth followed, making it impossible to feel cold around him.

But for a boss to share a bed with an employee—what kind of image did that project?!

Jian Yunlan’s mind oscillated between calm and chaos, countless thoughts flashing through his head in just a few seconds.

Though he’d been living under the same roof as Taotie for a while now, Taotie had mostly taken the form of a dog before. After arriving in this apocalyptic world, for some reason, Taotie, Hu Danggui, and Niu Tou could only maintain their human forms.

And now, lying on the same bed with a human-shaped Taotie, Jian Yunlan couldn’t help but feel… strange.

And a little embarrassed.

Wait, why was he embarrassed?

Jian Yunlan thought about it. Whether in his past life or this one, romance had never seemed to concern him. He’d never liked anyone that way. Though he’d been confessed to by all sorts of people—men and women alike—he’d never seriously considered building an intimate relationship with anyone.

Not with humans, and certainly not with non-humans.

And besides…

Jian Yunlan turned over, facing Taotie, who was fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

The double bed in the Eastern Base was far too cramped for two grown men. The moment Jian Yunlan turned, their noses were practically touching.

Taotie’s breathing was even, his face as serene as frost and snow, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows. In sleep, the usual arrogance and pride faded, replaced by a rare vulnerability and gentleness.

“Lord Taotie… Lord Taotie,” Jian Yunlan called softly.

But Taotie seemed deep in slumber, only furrowing his brows slightly without responding.

A band-aid was stuck on the bridge of his nose, and faint dark circles hung under his eyes, as if he hadn’t rested properly in a long time.

…He was really out cold.

Was the first day of mercenary training that exhausting?

Jian Yunlan suddenly wondered.

“…” Jian Yunlan sighed.

“Fine, I’ll let you have the bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Just as he was about to get up, Taotie suddenly stirred again, the blankets rustling.

Then, a wave of warmth pressed against his back.

“Human,” Taotie mumbled drowsily, his voice low. “Don’t leave me.”

The familiar scent of warm sandalwood filled Jian Yunlan’s senses.

…Taotie had wrapped his arms around Jian Yunlan from behind, pulling him close.

Jian Yunlan froze, not daring to move for fear of waking him.

Through the thin fabric of their clothes, he could hear Taotie’s steady, even heartbeat.

One beat, two beats, three.

“You’re sleeping way too soundly,” Jian Yunlan murmured enviously. “This sleep quality…”

He’d thought it would be hard to fall asleep tonight—between the unfamiliar environment and sharing such a tiny bed with Taotie.

But… somehow, counting those heartbeats, his consciousness gradually blurred.

The exhaustion of the day washed over him.

Before he knew it, his breathing slowed, his eyelids grew heavy, and he could no longer resist the tide of drowsiness pulling him under.

…What Jian Yunlan didn’t notice was this:

The moment he fell asleep, Taotie—who he’d assumed was “sleeping soundly” with “excellent sleep quality”—couldn’t keep up the act any longer.

His eyes snapped open, his ears burning red as he glared at the human in his arms.

With a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Human, how can you sleep so soundly at your age?!

Lord Taotie, reduced to a glorified heating pad, held the human tightly in his arms until half his body went stiff.

Yet he stubbornly refused to move all night.

His heartbeat was alarmingly fast.

“…”

The next morning, when Jian Yunlan woke up well-rested and content, he was met with Taotie’s resentful face, complete with two massive dark circles under his eyes.

Taotie’s handsome face was ashen, his silver hair sticking up in all directions. Though he still looked regal and elegant, there was an undeniable resemblance to a centuries-old vampire who hadn’t fed in far too long.

Jian Yunlan: “?”

Taotie: “?”

“Did you… not sleep well?” Jian Yunlan asked, puzzled.

Taotie huffed and lied through his teeth: “Ridiculous! Thanks to someone, I slept wonderfully—a full eight hours! Absolutely no tossing and turning from nerves or anything—”

“Oh, good,” Jian Yunlan nodded cheerfully, genuinely pleased for him.

Taotie: “…”

He felt like he’d just punched a pillow—utterly unsatisfying.

Meanwhile, Jian Yunlan, bursting with energy, got out of bed and started pondering what kind of porridge to make today.

If he remembered correctly, the free-range chickens Niu Tou had been raising in their portable spirit farm were just about ready…

Aside from seafood porridge, his favorite from his past life—back when he studied in Guangdong—was Chicken and Shiitake porridge. Light, comforting, with tender chicken thigh meat that fell right off the bone, and the rich aroma of mushrooms steeped into the broth.

Perfect for the cooling autumn weather.

As he mused, an idea struck him:

“Yesterday was classic century egg and pork porridge. Maybe today I’ll try mushroom and chicken?”

*

At the stroke of nine in the morning, the Eastern Base’s gates swung open, and mercenaries poured out in droves.

For most mercenaries, this was routine: leave the base at nine, spend the entire day outside, and stagger back by ten at night.

Surviving over twelve hours in the high-radiation, high-risk wilderness—let alone fighting mutated creatures—was no easy feat.

Returning battered and bruised by day’s end? That was the good outcome.

Every day, a not-insignificant number of mercenaries never made it back, their bodies left to the wilds.

With the worsening weather and the sudden, abnormal evolution of the mutated creatures, more and more mercenaries were falling to the increasingly violent attacks.

“Damn it, bad luck today—ran into a high-tier mutant.”

“That squad over there lost two D-rank mercs just two hours into their mission. Brutal.”

“When will this damned apocalypse end?”

“That’s just how it is in our line of work,” Zhang Zhuoran, a B-rank mercenary, forced a bitter laugh as he injected himself with a recovery serum behind cover. “Live day by day… Even someone as strong as Mu Dongsheng died to those things. How long can cannon fodder like us last…?”

The serum brought his nearly depleted energy core back from the brink, though the burning sensation flooding his veins was unbearable—like chugging a tank of gasoline.

But no matter how awful it felt, he had to endure it.

In these times, just having access to core-recovery serums was something most could only dream of.

His squadmates watched enviously. “Brother Zhang, at least you can afford serums… Low-ranks like us have to tough it out on sheer willpower once our cores dry up. If we can’t make it back, we’re just mutant chow.”

A single serum cost 200 credits and only restored about half of a depleted core. Not only were they expensive, but you needed connections in Logistics to even get one.

Core-recovery resources were beyond rare, so anything related came with a sky-high price tag.

Someone like Zhang Zhuoran, who could use serums, was considered lucky by mercenary standards.

The squad’s mood grew somber.

“Enough wallowing,” Zhang Zhuoran clapped his comrades on the shoulders. “Let’s just focus on surviving. At least we’ve got a chance.”

“Unlike those poor bastards in District 13—targeted by Li Zhou, forced on high-risk missions with dried-up cores… They probably won’t last the day…”

District 13 was a desolate area on the fringes of the residential zone, home to elderly, disabled, and retired mercenaries who had once been protected by Mu Dongsheng.

And today was the day Li Zhou had forced them out of the base, coercing them into taking on a high-risk mission.

One of the mercenaries suddenly pointed into the distance:

“Hey, speak of the devil—isn’t that them—?”

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted from the direction he indicated, followed by the furious roars of mutants.

The mercenaries nearby winced, their expressions pained as they turned to look…