Chapter 125 — New Rice vs New Rice
The members of Luo Xun and Yan Fei’s metal-type team were all excited when they heard they would be eating freshly harvested, processed rice for lunch.
But the moment the food arrived and everyone took their first bite—The entire team froze.
Completely still.
Luo Xun lowered his head, refusing to look up lest he break into laughter. Beside him, Yan Fei—after being warned—had only taken a small bite, and now sat frozen just like the others.
“Pfft—”
“Wh-what is this?!”
“What kind of taste is this? Is this even rice?!”
“Where’s the rice fragrance?!”
“This is worse than coarse bread… even cornmeal or sorghum is better!”
Luo Xun kept his head down, his face twisted with suppressed laughter. He had only eaten a few grains.
Humans really were creatures who could easily adapt to luxury but struggled to return to hardship.
Look at zombies—they ate anything without complaint.
But he, after just a year without this taste, already found it hard to swallow again.
“No wonder they replaced all the old grain with this new stuff,” Captain Guo grumbled, slamming his bowl onto the table. “So this is what it tastes like!”
Everyone silently stared at the seemingly crystal-clear rice in their bowls.
Then remembered the taste.
It wasn’t that they were picky—it was just that mutated grain plus mutated vegetables… the combination was devastating.
“It’s like chewing sawdust,” the vice-captain finally commented after forcing it down.
A few soldiers exchanged looks before one of them spoke quietly, “Well… we still have to eat, right? It’s still food…”
Yes.
Food.
Precious food in the apocalypse.
Everyone knew why the new grain had replaced the old immediately—even the coarse grains.
Because it tasted terrible.
The higher-ups didn’t want to eat it themselves.
But what could they do?
It wasn’t like they could revolt just because the food tasted bad.
At least it filled the stomach and provided energy. No matter how awful, it was still better than having nothing.
The entire table fell silent. Even the usual chatter was gone.
Including Luo Xun and Yan Fei, everyone forced themselves to finish their portion.
Eating, which used to be a moment of relaxation, now felt like fighting a battle—like completing a difficult mission.
They finished lunch in silence. Worked in silence. Endured until three in the afternoon.
After work, the two drove home—And immediately rushed into the planting room.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Xu Mei and Song Lingling noticed something off about them today and hurried over. They found Luo Xun and Yan Fei squatting by the racks, staring at a batch of nearly ripe rice, discussing something seriously.
Luo Xun turned around, his expression slightly twisted. “The base harvested its grain.”
“Oh? That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” the two women asked, puzzled.
The two men exchanged a look, then spoke with heavy, solemn expressions: “It tastes… very bad.”
The women froze. “Bad?”
“Yes. Mutated rice. Extremely… bad.” Luo Xun nodded firmly.
“You’re sure the rice we grew at home is normal?” Yan Fei had never really seen rice growing up close—just fleeting images on TV. He couldn’t tell the difference between normal and mutated rice. Even when cooked, they looked almost identical.
Luo Xun nodded again. “It’s normal!” He might not have seen much real rice in his previous life, but he could still distinguish normal rice from mutated ones. As for “benign mutations”… he wasn’t confident what those would taste like.
Hearing that even Yan Fei couldn’t tolerate it, the two women became even more curious. And curiosity, as always, killed the cat.
At Luo Xun’s strong suggestion, they went downstairs to buy some of the new rice from the food window and try it themselves.
They wisely bought only the minimum amount allowed—two liang of rice. After tasting it, they came back with the same conclusion:
They could hold out until their own crops were ready.
That evening, when Li Tie’s group and Zhang Su returned, they all came to the same conclusion—
“This is inedible. Life cannot go on like this!”
“Is this really rice? How can it taste like this?” Li Tie complained bitterly.
“I thought mutated vegetables were already the worst, but this… this is like chewing wood shavings! Dry and scratchy! I had to force it down with water!” He Qiankun, the biggest foodie among them, looked especially aggrieved.
Zhang Su frowned at the small plate of rice placed on the table. “I think… we should focus on cooking at home.”
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Wang Duo beside him.
Wang Duo immediately straightened up. “I guarantee I’ll complete the mission!”
Han Li and Wu Xin also huddled together. “Should we try cooking ourselves too?”
“Sure, but… I only know how to make tomato scrambled eggs.”
Xu Mei and Song Lingling exchanged a few words, then smiled. “How about this—when you come back, we’ll teach you how to cook? We don’t know much either, but simple home dishes with our vegetables should be fine.”
They couldn’t handle cooking for everyone—there was too much to do during the day, and they also had to take care of Xinran. But guiding the others after work was no problem.
Luo Xun added, “Cooking is actually pretty simple. Once you try a few times, you’ll get the hang of it.”
In the end, they decided to clean out the kitchen in Room 1601 and turn it into a “cooking classroom” for Li Tie and the others—practice and taste-testing included.
As for ingredients—those came from their own allocated share.
Previously, since they ate in the military canteen, they barely touched the vegetables grown at home. Their portion had been entrusted to Luo Xun and Yan Fei to sell.
But now, they had no choice but to rely on their own produce.
Fortunately, their harvest was still more than enough. Even after feeding themselves, they could still sell some—just not as much profit as before.
Since they were going to cook, they might as well prepare lunch for the next day too. Everyone went upstairs together to learn.
Luckily, most of their crops were leafy greens—fast-growing, easy to cook. Even a simple stir-fry with salt preserved their fresh taste.
Combined with the pickles Luo Xun had taught them to make earlier, they suddenly had plenty of options.
“Too bad we’re running low on flour… Brother Luo, should we plant wheat next?” He Qiankun asked, thinking of steamed buns.
“Sure. After this harvest, we’ll plant some.”
Their home setup was basically a greenhouse—far more controllable than outdoor fields. Many crops that were hard to grow outside could thrive here.
“And corn! The corn we planted is almost ready, right? But there’s not much of it.”
“Yeah, we’ll plant more after harvesting this batch.”
Some crops had short growth cycles—they needed to replant immediately after each harvest.
The otaku team’s cooking class was surprisingly successful.
At the very least, the food they made didn’t kill anyone—and tasted decent.
After experiencing the military’s fully mutated meals, even plain boiled greens with a pinch of salt and a bowl of rice now felt like a luxurious feast.
Watching those five slightly clumsy, half-skilled “dropout college students” happily living day after day on pickles and stir-fried greens, Luo Xun finally couldn’t bear it anymore. After some thought, he taught them a simple dipping sauce—something to go with blanched vegetables, fresh cucumbers, lettuce, and other raw greens. It also worked well mixed with rice.
The only problem was… their rice jar was almost empty.
So what’s the best possible news when “the outside grain is so awful you can’t swallow it, and your own rice supply is about to run out”?
Of course—Their homegrown rice was finally fully ripe and ready to harvest!
On October 10th, Luo Xun and Yan Fei rushed home early after work. Without even bothering to change clothes or prepare dinner, they headed straight to Room 1501. Together with Xu Mei, Song Lingling, and little Xinran—who had just woken from her nap and was curiously riding on the dog’s back—they prepared to harvest.
Honestly, when they first planned things out, they had made full use of nearly every inch of space in several empty rooms to grow crops. So this harvest was truly impressive.
No pests, no disasters—and even some high-quality rice seedlings had appeared among the crops. Everyone was filled with anticipation.
With sickles specially made by Yan Fei according to Luo Xun’s design, they began cutting the rice.
Thankfully, since the rice was grown on racks—and mushrooms were cultivated underneath—they didn’t even need to bend down to harvest.
The water had already been drained from the “fields.” Once harvesting was done, they could plant the wheat seedlings currently growing in the nursery and wait for next spring’s harvest.
They worked without noticing the time. Before long, Li Tie and the others came back from work and joined in.
Their efficiency was high—one room was cleared quickly. Luo Xun directed everyone to bundle the rice and hang it outside on the metal racks to dry.
Yan Fei also added metal plates beneath the lower mesh gaps to prevent any grains from falling and being discovered—because now, every single grain was precious.
Since the seedlings had been planted in batches, the rice in each room matured at slightly different times. Combined with limited drying space, they had to harvest in stages over several days.
In total, it took a full week to finish harvesting and drying everything.
Meanwhile, they planted the wheat seedlings into the growing racks and began processing the rice.
Thankfully, Luo Xun had the foresight before the apocalypse to get a small household rice huller. It was second-hand—but now it proved invaluable.
The machine was noisy, so they decided to do the husking work in Room 1603. Every evening, everyone gathered to operate it. After several days of intermittent work, they finally weighed the harvest—
Nearly 600 kilograms of rice.
Almost every usable room across the two floors had been turned into farmland. Only Luo Xun’s own home hadn’t been fully converted—he had kept space for vegetables, fruits, and some unusual mutated plants.
But all the other rooms had been utilized to the maximum.
“So much rice…” He Qiankun hugged a sack, inhaling deeply with a blissful expression. “This smell… this is the real thing! This is what rice should taste like!”
“New rice is the most fragrant! Tonight let’s cook plain rice—we’ll stir-fry some duck meat to go with it!” Xu Mei was equally excited. After all, she and Song Lingling had been tending these crops every day—their emotional investment was the greatest.
Luo Xun smiled. “Let’s divide everything first.”
He looked around at everyone. “We already agreed on the distribution before. No objections, right?”
Everyone shook their heads.
Rice and wheat were essential staples, so they had long agreed on a fair distribution ratio. Luo Xun had also decided not to set aside a public reserve—everything would be evenly divided. The only requirement was that everyone would compensate Xu Mei and Song Lingling with points and crystal cores for their labor.
After weighing everything, setting aside seeds and excluding mutated varieties, the rest was evenly distributed.
Even little Xinran received a full share—no one would take food from a child.
Using cloth sacks they had prepared earlier, each person received over a hundred jin (about 50+ kg) of grain.
This would be their food supply for the next six months—enough to last until the wheat harvest next year.
If you calculated it carefully, this amount of grain still wasn’t quite enough for everyone to live on. But fortunately, their household had a steady supply of vegetables, and the potatoes, sweet potatoes, and corn they had planted earlier were now entering harvest season one after another. Along with other crops producing regularly, they didn’t have to worry about going hungry at all.
Once everyone finished storing their share of grain, a pot of freshly steamed rice was cooked.
The moment the lid was lifted, the fragrance spread everywhere.
It almost moved everyone to tears—especially after having endured the horrifying rice served in the military canteen.
“Wuwu… now I finally understand—only with comparison can you know what real delicious food is. Nothing beats what we grow ourselves…”
“Exactly! Starting tomorrow, I’m bringing my own meals. Even if you beat me to death, I won’t eat the canteen food again!” Everyone nodded vigorously.
Even Luo Xun was tempted. He began thinking about whether he should bring lunch to work the next day.
Li Tie and the others had been extremely busy recently—drying grain and planting new seedlings after work—so sometimes they didn’t have time to cook and had no choice but to eat at the canteen. Their suffering was obvious.
As for the military side, although many soldiers had complained about how awful the food tasted, logistics simply responded—
There was no more old grain left in storage. Everyone would just have to make do.
After all, the rice had been grown outdoors. Once it rained, it became contaminated and mutated. There was no helping it.
Unless they moved rice cultivation into greenhouses or planting facilities and carefully managed it—but the cost and efficiency made that unrealistic on a large scale. Growing a small area was manageable, but large-scale production simply wasn’t feasible.
These grains had been harvested by the soldiers themselves.
If you harvested it yourself, then even kneeling—you still had to eat it.
So what if it tasted bad? At the end of the day, it was still food to fill the stomach. Endure it long enough, and you’d get used to it.
Complaints about mutated grain weren’t limited to the soldiers.
Those civilians who struggled daily to earn points and crystal cores to buy food from distribution windows were even more miserable.
Before, rising food prices were already painful—but at least the food was still somewhat edible.
Now?
Vegetables had no taste, and even rice had become this awful.
How were people supposed to live like this?
But if they didn’t buy this food, what else could they eat?
Only now did some people begin to regret—Why didn’t they insist on growing their own vegetables and grain back when they still had space?
But what was the use of regret now?
Step outside and look—was there any open land left?
Everything had been filled with makeshift shelters. There wasn’t even space to store random items anymore—and even if you left something out, it would likely get stolen.
Life was becoming more and more hopeless.
It was supposed to be harvest season, yet the entire base felt gloomy and bleak.
Fortunately, if there was one thing people were good at, it was adaptation. Once they got used to the bad taste, complaints would gradually fade.
Seeing Li Tie and the others excitedly packing food for the next day, Luo Xun and Yan Fei quietly discussed it and decided—They wouldn’t bring their own meals for now.
Their situation was different.
Li Tie’s group and Zhang Su usually ate separately at noon. Even if colleagues were nearby, no one would bother them if they chose to eat alone.
But Luo Xun and Yan Fei were still working on that massive bridge project.
Their meals were delivered directly to the site, and everyone ate together.
If they suddenly brought their own food, it would be obvious to everyone.
If they had been doing this since the beginning of the apocalypse, it would be one thing.
But switching to private meals right after the communal food became terrible?
Wasn’t that basically announcing, “We’ve got something better”?
And besides, they were close with Captain Guo and the others.
If people knew they had good rice at home, how could they not “share”?
To avoid unnecessary trouble, they made a straightforward decision—
They would continue eating with the team at noon.
So what if it tasted bad?
They could eat more at breakfast, carry some flatbread in their bags, and snack in the afternoon before handling things at home.
—
During the golden days of October, the exterior walls and metal racks outside the Otaku Team’s residence were never empty.
Almost every day, something new was hanging out to dry.
To make it easier for Xu Mei and Song Lingling to manage during the day, most of the drying work was concentrated on the outer walls of the 15th and 16th floors.
Only Luo Xun’s duplex (Room 1604) remained covered with solar panels to ensure a steady power supply.
From this alone, the advantage of having a larger home—with more exterior wall space—was obvious.
Well… although they didn’t want to occupy shared rooftop space, when electricity consumption became too high, they still installed quite a few solar panels on their own rooftop (the duplex section only), just to get through these days.
They stayed busy all the way until the end of the month.
All the harvested crops had been processed and stored.
Once they finished work today, they could return home tomorrow and begin preparing for their next trip outside the base.
Author’s note:
Here I estimated yield at about 700 kg per mu. After subtracting pathways and unused space, around 600 kg seems reasonable. After all, their actual planting area is close to one mu—and they have two floors to work with~
Thank you for reading 🙂 I hope you all liked my translations. If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi 😉
