There was a very long table in this building, and Lu Dongnuan felt it was quite suitable for a meal.
As Lin Mo had put it, human survival actually only required satisfying three desires: eating, lusting, and sleeping.
And what one pursued in life was nothing more than eating better food, pursuing more beautiful women, and sleeping in more comfortable houses.
Lu Dongnuan could not satisfy the latter two for them, but she could certainly fulfill the first.
The meat would not last much longer anyway, so it was better to just eat it all and enjoy the moment.
When the people outside entered the building, they had already caught the scent.
However, Lin Mo had been cautious, making them write down their unit numbers and how many family members they had left before they were allowed inside.
As everyone straggled in, they were still shocked.
Though the lighting was a bit dim, the radiance from that large pot outshone everything else in the room.
Chunks of deep-red meat were piled high, the oily sauce flowing slowly, so thick it almost formed threads.
Every piece of meat trembled.
In the dim light, the translucent parts of the fat looked like layers of amber that were about to melt.
The perfect layering of three parts fat and two parts lean was still clearly discernible under the deep, dark sauce.
The fat had almost dissolved, nestling closely against the lean portions as if they were about to merge into one the very next second.
The crowd fell into a deathly silence.
There was only the sound of one person after another uncontrollably swallowing, and their breathing suddenly turning heavy.
“Braised… braised pork.”
The hidden worries and suspicions brought about by the unit numbers and population figures they had written on the paper earlier were smashed to pieces in the face of this bowl of crimson, oily meat.
That was an instinctive craving for “having a good meal” — a desire that had been nearly obliterated by long-term hunger and fear.
A middle-aged man stared fixedly at the bowl, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
The cloth bundle he had been clutching tightly in his arms, containing a few pieces of hard, dry crackers, had slipped and fallen to the floor without him noticing.
The old lady who had been the first to grab Lu Dongnuan’s sleeve reached out a trembling hand.
She did not reach for the meat but instead covered her mouth as cloudy tears rolled down from her deep wrinkles.
She thought of her young grandson waiting in the wardrobe for “Grandma to find food.”
This bowl of meat meant her grandson could survive; he really could survive.
Lu Dongnuan did not speak.
She simply picked up a long-handled ladle and steadily scooped up a large spoonful of meat and sauce, pouring it over the bowls of steaming white rice that had already been prepared and piled high next to her.
The deep-red sauce quickly seeped into the gaps between the snow-white grains of rice, creating an enticing luster.
The scalding steam, a mixture of rice and meat fragrance, rose once again.
Lu Dongnuan glanced at the people.
“I originally wanted to make dumplings, but there really isn’t much soy sauce or vinegar left. More importantly, I couldn’t find any garlic.”
Lu Dongnuan smiled.
In the eyes of those people, what she was saying now sounded like the words of a goddess.
With the tip of her chopsticks, Lu Dongnuan lightly touched the meat.
The fatty part dented inward, gently wrapping around the chopsticks before slowly bouncing back.
The layer of snow-white fat between the skin and the lean meat had melted to the extreme, becoming a pool of trembling light soaked in the dark sauce.
“Everyone… please enjoy,” Lu Dongnuan’s voice broke the nearly stagnant air.
The first pair of chopsticks reached out; they belonged to that middle-aged man with the raspy voice.
He did not pick the fattest piece, but a lean one with a bit of connective tissue, dripping with sauce.
He did not put it in his mouth immediately but stared at it for two seconds, as if confirming this unbelievable reality.
Then, he closed his eyes and sent the meat into his mouth.
The chewing was silent, but everyone seemed to hear the sound of the tender meat dissolving between his teeth and the rich, scalding juices bursting forth.
The man’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and then a sense of relaxation — one that was nearly painful yet extremely pleasurable — spread across his tense shoulders and neck.
He suddenly opened his eyes, which were now red.
He said nothing, only took a heavy, almost ferocious bite of the rice that had soaked up the meat sauce.
It was like a dam had burst.
“Rice! It’s rice!”
Lin Mo did not move his chopsticks.
He leaned against the wall, silently observing.
His gaze drifted over the faces that had become vivid — even showing a bit of color and life because of the food — and across the eyes that were gradually softening from numbness and wariness.
He knew that it was only at this moment that the contract was truly established.
It was not through words or promises, but through these solid, scalding fats and sugars that could soothe the stomach and the soul.
Lu Dongnuan walked to the end of the long table, where a large pot of lightly simmering, clear soup was still kept warm, with a few drops of oil and minced green wild vegetables floating on top.
She picked up the ladle and added hot soup to the bowls of several people who were eating too fast and starting to choke.
“Eat slowly, have some soup to help it down.” Her voice was not loud, but it strangely smoothed over the tension in the air caused by extreme craving.
As the hot soup entered their stomachs, a warm current spread from their bellies to their entire bodies.
Seeing that some people were still hesitant to eat their fill, Lu Dongnuan spoke again.
“Go ahead and eat. There’s plenty more.”
Several people who had been hunching their shoulders unconsciously straightened their backs a bit.
The atmosphere at the dining table gradually shifted from the initial shock and greedy swallowing to a slow relaxation that resembled “life.”
“There’s plenty more…”
A woman who had been quiet and was with a half-grown boy scooped up a spoonful of rice mixed with meat sauce.
After feeding the boy, she took a bite herself.
She chewed very slowly, then looked up and took the initiative to look at Lu Dongnuan for the first time.
Her lips moved, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz but exceptionally clear.
“Thank… Thank you. This meat… is really fragrant. My… my husband used to be great at making braised pork, too.”
These words were like a small pebble creating ripples on a gradually calming lake.
Another middle-aged man nearby chimed in with a muffled voice, “Yeah… my mother made it, too. She liked to add some potatoes. They soaked up the oil and were even more fragrant than the meat.”
“This sugar coloring… is great!”
“The fat is rendered perfectly; it’s not greasy at all…”
“The best braised pork I’ve ever had in my life.”
A few scattered sentences about the “past,” carrying the aroma of food, cautiously emerged.
These were no longer wails of despair, but warm fragments of something close to remembrance.
In this Apocalypse, being able to talk about “what we used to eat and how we ate it” together was already a luxury of trust and closeness.
The coldness in the depths of Lin Mo’s eyes finally dissolved completely amidst the low conversations filled with the warmth of satiety, revealing a very faint, almost unnoticeable smile.
He knew the first step was a success.
When the stomach is full, the heart will find strength, and the eyes will see the “path” again, instead of just danger.
‘This is the real killing blow.’
When the last bit of sauce had been wiped clean with rice, when the bowls and plates were empty, and when the sound of burping began to rise from all sides, the room was no longer filled with the scent of meat, but with a heavy, reassuring sense of satisfaction.
The panic on people’s faces faded, replaced by the peace of being satiated and a faint, burning expectation for what came “next.”
Only then did Lin Mo walk to the table and tap on its surface.
Every gaze instantly focused on him.
Their eyes no longer held the initial suspicion and avoidance but were filled with focus and conviction.
“Everyone has eaten well.” He looked around, his voice steady and powerful, “Now, it’s time to get to work.”
He pointed toward the darkening sky outside the window and the shadowy Property Management Building.
“Before it gets dark, we need to clear the perimeter of Safety Point One and reinforce the doors and windows. Those of you with families, turn in your lists and addresses. We will determine the highest priority rescue routes based on the situation.”
No one hesitated.
The middle-aged man with the raspy voice was the first to stand up, wiping his mouth.
“I’m strong! I can clear trash or move things!”
“I… I know the layout of the Property Management Building. I worked there as a temporary laborer before.” Another thin, small man also raised his hand.
The old lady clutching her small iron bowl rose unsteadily and solemnly placed the small piece of paper with her grandson’s hiding place on it on the table in front of Lin Mo.
“I’m old and can’t do heavy labor, but I can still boil water or keep an eye on things.”
Starting from a bowl of braised pork, the crowd, once like loose sand, finally condensed into a warm, directed collective.
They stood up, and their movements in clearing the dishes carried a long-lost briskness.
When the stomach is warm, the heart is steady, and it is as if they truly have something tangible in their hands called “hope.”