Chapter 635: Meal Time

"Before, you all always cooked."

"Today I'll cook a meal for you, come in first."

Yu Lin walked into the house and closed the door.

The cold wind was kept outside, and inside only the stove's warmth and the gradually intensifying aroma remained.

Enna still stood at the doorway, watching the sky through the window.

The clouds had cleared by more than half, revealing a blue firmament deeper and cleaner than any blue he had ever seen in his life.

Ying Ge followed him into the house, squatting beside him, her eyes blinking as she watched Yu Lin.

Alf stood by the stove, unsure what to do, and eventually sat down, like Ying Ge, watching Yu Lin.

Xi Ge Li De stood at the stove, intending to help.

Yu Lin walked to the edge of the stove and pulled something from his pocket.

A large piece of meat, marbled with fat and lean, still attached with Bone.

A fish, silver‑white, its Scale still glimmering, its eyes still bright.

A bundle of greens, emerald, its roots still clinging to soil, the dew on the leaves not yet dry.

Several eggs, unusually large, shells pale blue, shimmering with a gentle sheen in the stove's light.

A small bag of flour.............. a lot, clearly this is a feast.

Xi Ge Li De looked at the ingredients, then at Yu Lin.

She wanted to ask him where these things came from, but the words fell back down before reaching her mouth.

She tightened her apron, stepped forward, ready to help.

Yu Lin didn't let her start, saying, "I'll handle it."

"These ingredients might hurt you."

"Wait here together with them."

Then he rolled up his sleeves and began cooking.

Listening to his words.

Xi Ge Li De had no choice but to halt, moving aside to wait.

Within their sight.

Yu Lin poured the flour into a bowl, added water, and kneaded.

The dough turned, folded, and pressed in his hands, becoming smoother and softer.

Outside, a drop of meltwater fell from the topmost branch of the old oak, striking the ground and spreading a small wet patch.

The first new bud sprouted on the branch, tender green, tiny and fresh.

He placed the dough back into the bowl, covered it with a damp cloth, and let it rest.

He began processing the fish, scraping off Scale, gutting, Wash, slashing a few cuts on each side, rubbing with salt, and stuffing ginger slices inside.

Outside, a second drop of meltwater fell from the branch.

Then the third, the fourth. Snow on the old oak began melting in sheets, droplets linking into a thin thread that hung from the twig, glittering in the sunlight.

He cut the meat into large pieces, kept the Bone for broth, diced the meat into cubes, and tossed them into the pan to stir‑fry.

The oil sizzled, the meat cubes rolled in the pan, their surfaces gradually turning golden‑brown.

The scent of meat drifted through the kitchen.

New buds kept sprouting on the tree's branches, tender green, trembling slightly in the wind.

In the yard, the withered grass that had been crushed by snow all winter poked out from beneath the snow, its dull yellow giving way to a faint green.

He lifted the meat out, leaving the base oil in the pan, added sugar to caramelize, then returned the meat to stir‑fry again.

Each piece was coated in a bright red glaze, looking like amber in the stove's light.

The vines on the wall began to turn green, the branches that had been dead all winter suddenly softened, swaying gently in the wind.

Snow on distant mountains melted, the meltwater forming a thin stream that cascaded down the slope, over stones and roots, producing a faint whoosh.

Yu Lin lifted another pot and pan‑fried the fish. As the fish hit the oil, splashes erupted, its skin contracting rapidly in the hot oil, turning golden and crisp.

He flipped it, and the other side browned as well.

Then he added water and scallion‑ginger, covered the pot, and let it simmer.

The first bird flew back.

It perched on the old tree's branch and chirped twice.

The sound was soft but crisp, as if testing whether the world was still safe.

Then the second, third, fourth, chirp‑chirp, as if announcing some joyous news.

Yu Lin blanched the greens briefly in boiling water, lifted them out to cool, their color deepening to a vivid emerald.

He cracked a few eggs, whisked them, poured into the pan to scramble, cooking them tenderly to a golden hue, then sprinkled a pinch of salt.

The ice on the river surface cracked.

Slowly, piece by piece it split, the ice sheets pressing together, Creak—creak—.

Water surged from the fissures, clear, carrying the scent of earth and moss.

The stewed meat in the pot was ready, the pieces soft enough that a chopstick pierced them easily, the broth thick and ruby‑red. The fish was also done, its broth milky white, scented with scallion and ginger.

The fish appeared, leaping in the stream.

Ying Ge swallowed and said:

"So fragrant!"

"Fragrant, that's right."

Afterwards.

Yu Lin rolled out the risen dough, cut it into thin strips, boiled them in a pot, lifted them out to cool, tossed them with sesame oil and minced garlic, and filled a large bowl.

He made some bread with the remaining ones.

When taken out of the furnace, the bread's surface was baked golden and crisp.

The butter had softened, spread on the bread, seeping into its crevices, golden and glossy.

The village that had long vanished in the distance, the village swallowed by heavy snow.

It reappeared.

The children rushed out of the houses, running and shouting in the snow; even when they fell they did not cry, they got up and kept running.

The adults watched the situation outside.

They scratched their heads and said, "What's happening? What time is it now?"

"I remember I didn't go out to look for food?"

"Yeah, I think I was so hungry I ate bark!"

"Never mind, we must have been frozen dumb; let's go find something to eat."

"Alright............."

The people agreed and left the village.

The accumulated snow melted faster and faster, uncovering the roads, fences, and firewood piles that had been buried, one by one.

The air was no longer icy; it became warm and moist, carrying the scent of earth, of melting snow, and a certain floral fragrance drifting from far, far away.

The present outcome.

It is not as it originally was; not all humanity is here.

Only two people survived.

When Yu Lin brings the final dish to the table.

The dishes filled the entire table—big bowls and small plates, steaming, their aromas mingling so densely they were inseparable.

Ying Ge was already seated, hands on their lap, eyes fixed on the dishes without blinking.

Alf sat beside her, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Enna sat opposite, just returned from the doorway, the warmth of sunlight still on their face.

Xi Ge Li De sat beside him.

Yu Lin stood at the table edge, looked at them, and smiled.

"Been a long wait; let's start the meal."

But his words had just fallen.

The knocking at the door was followed by a woman's voice:

"Yu Lin, didn't you say you'd treat me to a meal?"

"Is now okay?"