Chapter 286: Chapter 286: Ginger Soup
Roman Rowe: ’So annoying! I don’t even want to cook anymore. But Lily Hart said to be good. She must like obedient men!’
He obediently busied himself in the kitchen while, outside, the three men wolfed down their noodles in a flash, still wanting more.
But they also knew not to abuse the hospitality, and asking for more would be rude.
Logan Holland stood up, ready to take his leave. He just needed to buy a few jugs of water from the convenience store, and then he could go back and make ginger soup.
Lily Hart knew they had important business to attend to, so she didn’t press them to stay and simply watched them leave.
Roman Rowe finished cooking, served himself a bowl of noodles, and came out to find the living room completely empty.
He couldn’t help but ask, "Where is everyone? They left already?" He had even made extra on purpose.
Lily Hart nodded. "Gone." She handed her empty bowl to Roman Rowe.
He took it from her with one hand, a practiced motion, then turned to put it in the kitchen before sitting back down beside her with his own bowl of noodles.
Frost Shaw and the others trickled in. Business was pitifully slow due to the storm anyway; they could have just closed the shop for the day.
His first words upon arrival were, "Boss Hart, are you still feeling sick?"
It took Lily Hart a moment to realize he was asking if she felt sick from drinking the night before.
She took a moment to gauge how she felt, then shook her head. "I’m not sick. Perfectly clear-headed. Were you the one who took me upstairs yesterday?"
Frost Shaw, who had been about to get some noodles from the kitchen, froze at her words. His expression grew awkward, afraid Lily Hart would be upset with him.
He nodded in confirmation. "That was me..."
Lily Hart just said, "Thank you." She had a vague impression that he hadn’t just ’helped’ her up—he’d carried her, princess-style.
But she decided not to expose the truth.
Frost Shaw breathed a sigh of relief, but Roman Rowe’s didn’t deflate. He’d been hoping to see Frost Shaw get scolded! How could she just say ’thank you’?
He felt indignant and jealous, but there was nothing he could do about it.
As Frost Shaw walked to the kitchen, he glanced at Roman Rowe on the sofa and gave a soft snort. ’Heh, amateur.’
Three people were now sitting in a row, but only Lily Hart was without a bowl of noodles. Speechless, she asked, "Do you all have to eat this close to me?"
Hearing this, the two men silently scooted over, putting a little distance between them—but not much.
This was the scene that greeted Leo Colby when he arrived: Lily Hart, sitting in the middle with a look of resignation on her face.
Frost Shaw and Roman Rowe were flanking her, each holding a bowl and slurping noodles with expressions of pure bliss.
"..." He too was left speechless as he walked past them and headed for the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but grumble inwardly. ’These two come so early every day, hogging the spots right next to Boss Hart.’
No wonder it was always these two sitting beside Boss Hart. It was a revelation for Leo Colby. He suddenly felt the urge to start coming earlier too.
He served himself a bowl of noodles and came out, trying to make conversation. "I just saw Logan Holland. What were they here for?"
Frost Shaw answered, "They came to buy ginger and mineral water from Lily. Apparently, a lot of houses collapsed at Central Command."
"Huh?" Lily Hart was astonished. ’A rainstorm caused houses to collapse?’
For a moment, she couldn’t decide if the rain was just that incredible or if the houses were just that flimsy.
The three men nodded in profound agreement. They all knew there was something shady going on. Someone must have taken the money and not done the work.
They could only hope that nothing like this would happen again.
After finishing the hot noodles, everyone felt warm and cozy all over and didn’t want to move a muscle.
And so they just laid about on the sofa, sprawled out in a row, their expressions and postures all perfectly in sync.
Outside, the wind howled and the rain poured, but inside, they were completely sheltered from it all. It felt like being nestled in a small, safe harbor, an overwhelming sense of security washing over them.
Thanks to the downpour, Lily Hart enjoyed a rare moment of peace. No one was looking for trouble, and no one was causing any.
Everything was quiet and peaceful. And while no customers were coming in, that didn’t matter.
What mattered was the wonderful idleness, the freedom to eat, play, and shout with friends—wildly and joyfully—with no one around to judge them.
As they were lounging, Stan Sterling and Seth arrived. The two of them walked in, saw the four figures draped over the sofa, and couldn’t help but sputter with laughter. They looked like boneless worms.
Lily Hart casually lifted an eyelid to glance at them, then let it fall closed again. "There are noodles in the pot. Help yourselves."
The pair expertly found their way to the kitchen, grabbed a large bowl, filled it to the brim, and returned. Soon, the only sound in the space was their slurping.
The rain was too heavy, so Frost Shaw had told the "little ones" not to come over, letting them fend for themselves at the convenience store instead.
Meanwhile, Logan Holland and his two companions returned to Central Command with the ginger and mineral water, found an empty building, and prepared to get down to business.
Just peeling all the ginger was a massive undertaking, so Logan Holland recruited some of the nearby survivors to help out.
The group worked with feverish energy. First, they prepared a massive pot. Then they peeled the ginger, poured water into the pot, and added the peeled ginger.
They just had to bring it to a boil. One bowl would drive away the cold and induce sweating.
With so much ginger, Logan Holland ended up making not just one, but five huge pots of the soup. He still had half the ginger left, so he figured he would brew another batch tomorrow.
Once it was ready, he sent people to notify the survivors in the residential area. Anyone who needed some could come get a bowl, as could anyone who was feeling unwell.
Those who had been caught in the rain were especially encouraged to come have a bowl.
Thankfully, the houses in the residential area were packed tightly together and all had eaves, so with a little care, one could make the trip without getting too drenched.
Logan Holland and his two friends were in charge of serving the soup. Most people brought their own bowls—some large, some small. It didn’t matter to the servers; everyone got one ladleful.
After getting their share, the survivors stayed inside the building, drinking the soup in small, cherished sips. Once finished, some tried to get a second helping but were ruthlessly denied.
Their bodies, however, did feel much warmer, as if they were generating heat from within.
After finishing their work, the trio also drank a bowl each. Fatigue and sleepiness immediately followed. They hadn’t slept all night, and it was now almost noon.
Luckily, they had scrounged that bowl of noodles from Boss Hart’s place in the morning; otherwise, they never would have lasted this long. The three of them quickly agreed to go get some sleep before coming back to work.
Outside Central Command, back at the lottery shop, everyone was getting ready for lunch.
With the rain pouring down outside and a chill seeping into the air, Lily Hart was suddenly craving a steaming hot pot. Just one bite would warm her entire body.
Fatty beef rolls, shrimp paste, tripe, yam, sweet corn—she wanted it all!
Some ingredients were bought from the Shop, while others had been prepared by Roman Rowe and Seth in the kitchen. As the platters of food were brought out one by one, Lily Hart’s excitement reached its peak.
’This is pure joy!’ she thought. ’This is the life I’m meant to live!’
To hell with that damn Central Command, and to hell with that damn Mysterious Clan. They could all get lost and leave her alone. All she wanted was to eat, drink, sleep, and be a lazy bum.
The broths came to a boil: one was tomato-based, one was a spicy tallow broth, and one was plain, to satisfy everyone’s preferences.
The moment the aroma hit them, everyone descended on the pots like a pack of starved wolves, desperately adding ingredients. The broths, which had just been bubbling merrily, fell silent under the onslaught.
But the flame was high, and soon they were bubbling again. The quick-cooking items were fished out and swiftly divvied up until none were left.
Watching this, Owen Warren felt his mouth water. ’I drank that alcohol and didn’t die,’ he thought. ’Eating a few vegetables should be fine, right?’
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