Chương 11: Chapter 11: Seeking External Help
After a brief exercise, David was exhausted.
His body was still weak, unsurprising since he had barely eaten anything since the apocalypse began.
Initially, when he still had regular food and electricity, he could cook normally. But after running out of regular food and losing power and water, he had to rely on his stock of low-fat meals, which, despite being rich in protein, lacked other nutrients, and he wasn't eating enough.
A day's food was often just a packet of chicken breast, sometimes with an extra chicken sausage, and occasionally, he improved his meals with some beef. Now, his body was extremely weak, much like Robert, who could hardly swing a hammer a few times.
David needed to replenish his nutrition by eating more. The previous feast was good, but it was just one meal. Looking at the 'meal sets' in his list, he decided to manifest a 'hotpot meal for four'.
Suddenly, a hotpot with various plates appeared, complete with all the necessary utensils and even napkins.
The hotpot had a spicy soup base, and the dishes included fresh duck intestines, old meat slices, fatty beef, chicken, luncheon meat, shrimp paste, crispy tripe, chrysanthemum, enoki mushrooms, blood curd, bamboo shoots, small crispy meat, brown sugar glutinous rice cakes, four small sauce dishes, and a large bottle of plum juice.
Seeing these foods, David felt immensely satisfied. The hotpot emitted a rich aroma even before any meat was added. To his surprise, the set included an alcohol fuel stove, which was perfect since the world was now without electricity. His house had been modified for insulation, making this stove very useful.
Hearing the continuous pounding outside, David couldn't help but laugh, "In this cold winter, hotpot is the way to go to warm up! Do you want to join? Oh, I forgot, you can't open the door, never mind."
He dumped the meat slices into the pot, put a piece of crispy meat in his mouth, and hummed a tune, feeling utmost happiness.
Meanwhile, the people outside were close to breaking down. They had knocked for so long without any effect on the door. They desperately wanted some sign of their efforts making an impact.
Robert was almost in despair, smelling the hotpot seeping from inside, his stomach growling uncontrollably. "Behave yourself," he scolded his stomach, but he stopped hammering the door.
"What now?" he asked the gathering crowd. "I have no idea what this door is made of. I'm out of ideas!"
"This damn guy is actually eating hotpot!" someone cursed after approaching and smelling the food. "Where did he get it from? And this door is just bizarre!"
"I'm starving... really starving," someone cried in the back, "I can't take it anymore, smelling that hotpot is making me cry!"
He approached David's door, knocking hard and then suddenly bursting into tears, "I want to eat meat! I want hotpot too!" Others quickly pulled him away.
"Don't embarrass yourself! It's just a hotpot. Once this is over, we can eat as much as we want," they fantasized about surviving the apocalypse.
"I want to eat now! I want it now!" he continued to wail.
"We have no choice," Mr. Jones said solemnly, witnessing this scene. "Let's inform Charles."
Everyone was shocked, even the one who initially suggested telling Charles.
"Mr. Jones, are you serious?" William asked, concerned. "If we tell Charles, will we get any benefits?"
"No matter what, we are the original residents of this building, the local bosses. No matter how powerful he is, he can't do whatever he wants in our building," Mr. Jones said coldly. "But we need his help to open this door. If the door opens, we can negotiate a split with him."
"A split?" Robert was confused. "Even if there's some food left in that guy's house, how much can it be?"
"You fools!" Mr. Jones scolded. "Haven't you realized? This guy isn't simple. The door he suddenly changed, and this food... in this cold winter, can you find such hot food? The smell is driving me crazy!"
He waved his hand in front of his face as if to fan away the hotpot's aroma.
"That's true. Even if he hid a lot of food, it shouldn't still be hot now, right?" the others pondered.
"Is he cooking himself? He doesn't have any appliances left."
They fell into thought.
"Also," Mr. Jones continued, "knowing his habits, if he had little food, he would be conserving it. But now, he's eating meat so freely, which means he still has a lot left. Just by opening this door, even a small share will be enough for us to survive!"
The decision to inform Charles marked a significant turn in their plan, driven by desperation and the tantalizing smell of hotpot.
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