Chapter 167: Long-Awaited Smells of Home

"What's your name, brother?"

Zhang Su pulled out his cigarette and offered one to the man.

"I'm surnamed Zu, a rare surname—just one character: Meng. I'm forty-five, much older than you—calling me 'Old Zu' sounds awkward, just call me Old Meng. This is my sister, Zu Tong. She's twelve years younger than me, thirty-three. What's your surname, brother?"

"I'm Zhang, Zhang Su."

"Mr. Zhang, let's not stand here talking—come on, let's sit in the courtyard. I've got good food and drink waiting. Eat and chat while you tell me what's happening outside."

Zu Meng warmly urged Zhang Su and the others into the homestay to talk.

"No rush…"

Zhang Su subtly pushed away Zu Meng's hand. "I've got friends down the mountain."

"More friends? Oh, that's wonderful! Mr. Zhang, go ahead and call them all up—we haven't had this much bustle in ages! Sister, hurry and tell Xiao Chen and Master Liu—we'll prepare a big feast! Oh, by the way, Mr. Zhang, how many of you are there total?"

"Hah, a ten to twenty percent labor fee isn't much—but why should I pay you? Just take over this place; everything here becomes ours anyway."

"Hehehe…" Zu Meng rubbed his hands. "Mr. Zhang, this isn't just an invitation to dinner—you've got twenty people, surely you've brought plenty of supplies. We only charge ten to twenty percent extra for the ingredients you provide—isn't that fair?"

Zhang Su and his three companions exchanged glances. The homestay owner's logic was truly bizarre—even in the apocalypse, he wouldn't miss a chance to do business.

Zu Meng greeted them with the same warmth he'd shown customers in the past.

Just then, Lu Yu's voice crackled from the walkie-talkie in his chest pocket.

Zu Meng seemed to have slipped back into his normal homestay-host mode, cheerfully asking about guest numbers and arranging meals.

Zu Meng gave a sheepish smile. "Mr. Zhang, you're right—but I don't think you're the type to commit violence. Besides, you've got guns—if you really meant to rob us, why waste time chatting with me? That wouldn't make sense, right?"

"Fine, I'll believe you this once—don't try any tricks!"

Zhang Su patted his rifle.

Inside a rustic courtyard, Zhang Su sat on a bamboo chair. A delicate tea set sat before him on the table, the fragrance of tea lingering, soothing and sweet.

"Boss, Boss—I heard gunshots. What's going on?"

Zhang Su saw no signs of trouble, yet that very lack of warning made him uneasy. "Old Meng, you know supplies are dwindling—every grain of food is precious. In the city, people are desperate enough to eat human flesh. Why are you so generous with a meal?"

Zhang Su pulled out his walkie-talkie. "No problem. There are a few homestay owners here—show them your weapons. Come on up."

Earlier, at the parking lot, he hadn't heard any sounds from within. Only after walking through several courtyards did he hear chickens and ducks playing—a scene of paradise. Compared to the carnage in the city, it was deeply alluring.

"Twenty people."

Zhang Su said it with a faint smile, carefully watching the man's expression.

"Sister, hurry—tell them to prepare meals for twenty people. That's three tables! Hahaha!"

"Old Meng, you keep chickens and ducks here?"

The sudden gunfire startled Zu Meng; his slightly fleshy face twitched as he waved his hands frantically. "No no no!"

*Click!

As he spoke, Zhang Su disengaged the safety and fired a short burst, blasting a hole straight through the nearest sign.

"Funny thing—after the disaster hit, all the chickens and ducks just collapsed into a coma. Then, just a few days ago, after that heavy rain, they all suddenly woke up."

Zu Meng handled the tea set with practiced ease—clearly, he'd once been someone who appreciated fine living.

"By the way, did that recent heavy rain affect you here?"

At the mention of the animals waking, Zhang Su suddenly remembered the downpour.

Zu Meng smiled confidently. "Mr. Zhang, you don't know—this resort's owner was arrogant, thinking he had powerful backers. He got taken down hard. The inspections were brutal—fire prevention, flood control—all measures exceeded standards. Turned out lucky for us small business owners, haha."

"Old Meng, you guys are amazing—running water, electricity, modern life. You have no idea how bad it is in the city… Wait, no—electricity's from solar panels, but where's your water? I didn't see any wells!"

Zhao Dechu stared at Zu Meng juggling two teacups and asked.

"There's a reservoir up the mountain. Our homestay gets all its water from there—saved us a fortune. That was the resort's big selling point when they were recruiting investors, haha. Ah… those were the good old days."

As he spoke, Zu Meng grew somber. He arranged the teacups and poured one for each of them.

"Boss."

"Boss, Xue and Pang are guarding the car."

Just then, the group that had followed up the mountain entered the courtyard under Zu Tong's guidance, filling the once-spacious yard with people.

"Hahaha, if this were the old days, I'd have made a fortune off so many guests!"

Zu Meng rubbed his hands in excitement, hurrying to fetch chairs and urge everyone to sit.

"We won't let you lose out—we haven't had a proper meal in ages. If your cook satisfies us, we'll pay you twenty percent!"

Zhang Su lifted his teacup, sniffed it, then plucked a strip of dried meat from the plate and tossed it to Haoyun. She gobbled it down with obvious delight.

"Hahaha, Mr. Zhang, rest assured—I'll supervise the kitchen myself. If the food's bad, you can slap me!"

With that, Zu Meng exchanged polite farewells with everyone and prepared to leave.

"Wait!" Zhang Su called him back. To his companions, he said: "We don't sit around waiting for meals. Zhu, Tan, Xiao Shuai—go help the chef!"

"Got it!"

The three immediately stood, nodding with understanding.

"Hahaha, armed bosses walking into the kitchen—how impressive! Come on, I'll show you the way!"

Zu Meng knew full well why Zhang Su was sending people with him—he didn't delay.

"I won't disturb you folks chatting—help yourselves to anything here."

Zu Tong bustled about, sweat beading on her forehead. Sensing the awkwardness, she quickly excused herself.

"Go on, go on."

Zhang Su waved them off. He wanted to speak with his companions without outsiders present. Once footsteps faded, he asked: "What do you think of this place?"

"It's perfect!"

"Water, farmland—I saw vegetable greenhouses too. If we bring back seeds from the village and plant them, we won't starve."

"There's only one road up the mountain—easy to defend. A rare gem."

"I saw another two-story homestay over there. If we find more survivors worth taking in, we've got space for them."

Everyone spoke up, agreeing that this stretch of Tianma Island was flawless.

Lu Yubo winked. "Everything's great—but those homestay owners? They feel… off. Boss, don't you feel it too?"

"I saw Zu Meng drink the tea—no problem." Zhang Su poured out the tea, refilled his cup with hot water, drank half, then said: "Bozi, you're not wrong—I feel it too. But so far, I haven't found anything wrong."

"Maybe we've seen too many ghosts—we're just unnerved by normal people now…"

Zhang Ya murmured.

"There are only four of them. Managing this whole area alone is impossible. It makes sense they'd hope for survivors to join them. At least, they probably don't have the guts to oppose us?"

Jia Shiqin spoke, patting the rifle slung over his shoulder. The message was clear: we're many, we're armed—any sane person would try to please us.

"The Zu siblings act like real businesspeople. Again, I haven't found anything suspicious—but we can't let our guard down. Paranoia's useful now. We guard as if danger's real. We'll observe them for a while longer."

After speaking, Zhang Su used his walkie-talkie to tell Zhao Xue and Pang Dakun to stay alert.

When Zhang Su put down the walkie-talkie, Liu Tianji grinned. "Boss, are we planning to set up camp here?"

Zhang Su glanced at the neatly arranged homestay buildings. "We'll see after tonight. I hope everything stays peaceful."

After twenty years of stable, peaceful life, just twenty-some days of chaos, teetering on the edge of survival, had shattered people's sense of security. Even beauty lay before them—and still, they dared not relax.

No one wandered. They waited in the courtyard for dinner.

Smoke rose from chimneys—the scent of home-cooked meals filled the air…

Thirty minutes later, three eight-legged tables were set up in the courtyard. Excluding the two guarding the car, Zhang Su invited Zu Meng, Zu Tong, and the two chefs to join the meal. Over twenty people gathered—lively and bustling.

Zhang Su finally met Chen Minwen and Liu Dazhi, who'd been working nonstop in the kitchen.

According to Zu Meng, Chen Minwen had once been a pastry supervisor at a hotel, specializing in Chinese dim sum. Liu Dazhi was even more impressive—he'd been head chef at a famed hotel in Qincheng.

"Mr. Zhang, such fine dishes—would you like some wine? We don't have anything fancy, but we've got ordinary Luzhou and Guzhou, and if you like light fragrance, we've got fifteen-year-old Qinghua, hehe."

Zu Meng held up two bottles of liquor, pitching them.

Zhang Su smiled and waved him off. "No wine—just drinks!"

Without outsiders present, they might have allowed themselves a drink or two. But now, no one dared relax—even Zhao Dechu and Jia Shiqin, the two most eager for alcohol, could only stare longingly as the bottles vanished.

"Got it! Coke, Sprite, Wahaha, Assam, Hawthorn Tree—everything's here!"

Soon, Zheng Xinyu and Zhao Dechu helped Zu Meng carry the drinks to the table.

Even though Zhao Dechu and the others had helped in the kitchen, Zhang Su waited until Zu Meng and the others had taken their first bites before allowing everyone else to eat. He also sent a generous portion to Zhao Xue and Pang Dakun at the car.

The moment the first dish entered someone's mouth, the table fell silent.

A long-lost sense of happiness spread through them. For nearly a month since the disaster, not one meal had carried the warmth of home-cooked food. It moved them deeply.

Each table held eight dishes—meat and vegetables, cold and hot. Tan Huajun had specially saved two large chicken legs for Haoyun, who now sat at Zhang Su's feet, gnawing greedily, grease glistening on her muzzle.

The atmosphere remained quiet. Zu Meng tried to spark conversation, but Zhang Su's group ate in silence. Two electric rice cookers' worth of rice vanished. The dishes were cleaned clean. Only the drinks remained.

"Hahaha, if this were the old days, we'd have worried we served too little!"

Zu Meng stared at the mountain of empty plates, grinning broadly—as if he'd made a fortune.

Zhang Su had been quietly observing all four. The Zu siblings were warm and lively; the two chefs were quiet—normal enough. Throughout, he found no irregularities.

Seeing Zu Meng begin clearing the table, he said: "Old Meng, today's meal—fifty kilos of rice, plus twenty kilos of vegetables. Enough?"

"Fifty kilos…"

Zu Meng squinted, calculating, then gave a sheepish smile. "Rice and vegetables? Definitely enough. But the meat—"

"What meat? Can't rice feed chickens? Chickens lay eggs, eggs hatch chickens—doesn't that equal meat? Funny!"

Zhao Dechu knew their supplies well—plenty of rice, flour, vegetables—but almost no meat.

"Yes yes, Mr. Zhao's right."

Zu Meng flinched at Zhao Dechu's tone, nodding rapidly, saying no more.

(End of chapter)