Chapter 3 Bamboo Shoot and Chicken Soup

Lu An, who was ill, did not respond. Zhao Xuan turned around, locked the large iron gate, took off her basket and straw hat, and without even wiping away her sweat, she immediately went to the bedroom on the second floor.

As soon as she opened the door, she saw Lu An propped up on the edge of the bed with one arm. His vomit was everywhere, even on the sheets and under the bed, and the bedroom was filled with an indescribable stench. He must have vomited too violently, because the vomit had gotten into his nasal cavity, causing him to cough. He tried hard to suppress the coughs, so much so that Zhao Xuan didn't notice anything amiss until she came in.

If she hadn't happened to come back, he probably would have figured out how to clean up the mess himself.

When Lu An saw her return, he wanted to call out to her, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he couldn't stop coughing.

"Don't move! I'll help you!" Zhao Xuan rushed over and grabbed him. He was very tall and looked thin, but he wasn't light either. Zhao Xuan had to use a lot of strength to move him. It took him a long time to move him to the other side of the bed, and then he pulled a clean corner of the blanket to wrap him up.

She glanced at the porridge she'd brought over that morning; the egg pancake and porridge were already gone. Sick people might not have an appetite, but these days, eating was the only way to recover faster. Lu An must have forced herself to swallow those things without any appetite, and then vomited them up.

Zhao Xuan drew back the curtains to let in some fresh air, and then took the empty bowls and chopsticks from the table downstairs.

When she came back up, she brought a basin of warm water for Lu An to wash his face and rinse his mouth. Then she shoveled some wood ash on the vomit, swept it clean with a broom, and finally took clean clothes and bedding to change Lu An's dirty clothes.

She completed the series of tasks quickly and efficiently.

Seeing Zhao Xuan rushing up and down the stairs, 460 wanted to follow him, but Zhao Xuan chased him downstairs: "Go and watch the door."

Whether it understood or felt threatened by Zhao Xuan's deathly pale face, the black dog finally shuffled downstairs and lay down on the leather sofa in the hall, looking somewhat bored. It closed its eyes, but its ears were pointed towards the door.

At this moment, Lu An seemed to have fallen asleep again, nestled in the blankets. As Zhao Xuan ran up and down to tidy up, Lu An struggled to open his eyes as if to say something, but ultimately remained silent.

After Zhao Xuan thoroughly scrubbed the floor, the suffocating smell in the room finally dissipated. As she stood up, her vision blurred, and she almost sat back down. Only then did she realize that she should cook something to eat.

Lu An hadn't eaten anything all day, and Zhao Xuan's bowl of white porridge and two taro were almost gone by now. As for 460, after running wild all night until he followed her back, he probably hadn't eaten anything either.

She had half a pheasant left after drying it before the New Year. She took it down, washed off the dust, chopped it into small pieces, and put it into a ceramic jar along with ginger slices and scallion knots. She then filled the jar with water, making sure the chicken pieces were submerged.

Since cooking wine, which has a short shelf life, was long gone, she added some white wine to remove the fishy smell. Finally, she placed the earthenware pot on the small stove, first lighting the charcoal inside, and then adding a few more short pieces of firewood.

After putting the lid on, Zhao Xuan used the fire tongs to pry the firewood to make the fire burn brighter.

Even after living in the village for so long, she rarely used firewood for cooking. Except for when it was dark in the morning, she mostly used charcoal to stew food. The smoke from burning firewood could drift far away, and she didn't want anyone to see it: whether it was a patient with an infection or a healthy stranger who didn't know her purpose, she didn't want them to know that there were living people in this small village.

Her wariness of the world was truly like that of a rabbit.

The rabbit would cover the entrance to her burrow with weeds, and she never removed the weeds outside the fence. She remained vigilant while eating, preferring to cook her food with charcoal rather than firewood, even though it took much longer to cook with charcoal than firewood, to avoid smoke.

Sometimes you just can't think about all that.

Simmering a pot of chicken soup over charcoal takes most of the day, but adding two pieces of firewood can greatly shorten the time.

She didn't know when Lu An would wake up next, but as soon as he opened his eyes, he would need to replenish his fluids and protein.

The basket filled with bamboo shoots was placed in the yard. Zhao Xuan picked out a large, tender bamboo shoot tip, cut it into pieces, and threw it into the soup.

If bamboo shoots are not blanched, they will numb your tongue. Therefore, the best way to eat spring bamboo shoots is in soup.

She plans to boil the remaining bamboo shoots and then dry them to make dried bamboo shoots, which can be preserved for a long time. But she won't do it now; her most important task right now is to wash the soiled bedding.

Not far from the village, there is a small stream, or perhaps it should be called a ditch rather than a stream. The downstream of this ditch flows through paddy fields and is the source of water for irrigating rice. Upstream, there is a tall and conspicuous willow tree. Two stone slabs, about three meters long, have been built on the bank of the stream under the tree for washing clothes. Since it is not far from home, Zhao Xuan often goes there to wash clothes.

After the major illness, all factories shut down, and with no more sources of pollution, nature recovered to its original state at a speed that exceeded people's expectations.

The stream was very clear, with very little mud and sand, making it perfect for swinging clothes.

When 460 saw Zhao Xuan go out, he wanted to follow, but she locked him in the courtyard—Lu An was sick, and she was worried about leaving him alone.

Washing bed sheets without a washing machine became an even more strenuous physical task than turning over the floor. The fabric, soaked with water, became incredibly heavy, and if one wasn't careful, it would be dragged into the stream. Earlier, Zhao Xuan had found a stone stool to use as a bench while washing clothes. She sat on the stool, pulled the wet sheets up, placed them on the stone slab, sprinkled some laundry detergent on them, and then picked up a wooden board and began rhythmically pounding the sheets.

The laundry detergent had expired a few years ago. After clumping together, it struggled to produce a few bubbles when soaked in water, but something was better than nothing. Usually, she and Lu An would do the laundry together. Lu An was stronger, and the clothes got much cleaner than she did.

Zhao Xuan remembered that when she was a child, the aunts and uncles in the village washed clothes in the same way. Everyone in the village knew each other, and no matter if they were relatives or not, her grandmother would call them uncles and aunts. She remembered that when she was five or six years old, her grandmother would carry a wooden basin with dirty clothes and soap in it, as well as a small wooden board about the length of her arm. She didn't know what the small wooden board was called. She only remembered that her grandmother and the other aunts would chat about everyday things while beating the clothes with the wooden board.

When clothes are hit, the dirt attached to them will fall off. Washing clothes this way is tiring, but it gets them very clean.

Now, Zhao Xuanyi followed suit, using a wooden board to beat the soaked sheets. After doing this several times, she rinsed the sheets clean, rubbed her aching back, and carried the large basin containing the bedding home.

Because of this accident, many of her plans for today were disrupted. For example, she had planned to fill the water tank, and she planned to slice and cook all the bamboo shoots she had dug up today so that she could start drying them tomorrow.

She decided not to go out today and to stay and watch over Lu An.

After returning home, she laid out the bedding to air in the yard. After thinking for a moment, she simply locked the large iron gate of the yard completely from the inside. Then she added a piece of firewood to the pot of chicken soup. The water inside was already boiling, and a faint aroma was wafting out, but the marinated meat was very tough and would need more time to cook until it was tender.

She filled a basin halfway with water, washed her hands and face, and then tiptoed upstairs. Lu An was still asleep, but very restlessly. She quietly climbed into bed, grabbed Lu An by the neck, and pulled him into her arms.

His forehead was still very hot, even after a whole day.

His eyes were tightly closed, and his long eyelashes trembled. Zhao Xuan tucked the blanket around him, wrapped one arm around him, and gently stroked his back with the other.

When Zhao Xuan was a child, her mother would touch her back like this when she fell asleep, and Lu An also liked to hug and comfort her like this when she was sick.

Thinking this, Zhao Xuan's eyes welled up with tears again.

She has never been a very strong person.

A serious illness took away her parents. She was carried by Lu An to survive, and she was so immersed in the pain of losing her parents that she could go all day without speaking or even moving.

She should have been eliminated by nature long ago, but Lu An refused to give up on her. He took her on a flight, and whenever there was something to eat, Lu An would share most of it with her until the two settled down in the camp.

In truth, Zhao Xuan should have realized that Lu An had also lost his parents, and his grief would be no less than hers. But personality is a strange thing; Zhao Xuan is a pessimist. She considers the worst-case scenario in everything she thinks about, so after the apocalypse, she lives like a lone rabbit, passively surviving. Lu An, on the other hand, has lost his family, so Zhao Xuan, who is still alive, is his only family. He is grateful that he still has someone he loves, and he still has a strong desire to live, for himself and for Zhao Xuan.

"You must get better," Zhao Xuan whispered as she held him.

She had fallen asleep at some point, without her noticing.

The world in dreams is strange and distorted.

Zhao Xuan felt as if he were back in that large camp. One of the camp's leaders, a burly man, glanced at Zhao Xuan, who was timidly hiding behind Lu An, and said that only Lu An could stay—they only needed someone who could work and was physically strong. There were enough women in the camp; women weren't strong enough to do much work and consumed more food. But if… the burly man smiled ambiguously, revealing a set of yellow teeth: “But if she's willing to serve men, she could stay.”

Zhao Xuan felt Lu An suddenly grip her hand tightly from behind.

Lu An said, "I can do the work of two people, as long as you take us in."

The burly man chuckled again, finding Lu An's idea naive.

“I can do the work of three people,” Lu An paused, then added, “...for only one and a half portions of food.”

They successfully entered the camp.

The two were assigned to a secluded and dark shed, which was small enough to fit only one bed. Lu An dragged over two door panels and put them together to make a bed.

As he packed their simple belongings, he said to Zhao Xuan, who was staring blankly in the corner, "From now on, I'll go out to work during the day, and you'll stay home. I asked the other people in the camp, and they all said that someone must always be home, otherwise things will be stolen... We've settled down now, so you can stay here and recover for a while."

Zhao Xuan tilted his head, staring intently at the man, and noticed he was smiling—this time, it was genuine. They both believed this should be their long-term home.

Then the dream took another turn.

She lay alone in the dimly lit shed, her hair disheveled and her clothes dirty. She lay motionless like a rag doll, barely blinking. Lu An was doing the work of three people; aside from returning to rest, he was rarely seen during the day. Just then, three men walked in from outside.

There were three men who looked alike, probably blood-related brothers. They were very thin and dirty because they hadn't bathed in a long time, so they didn't mind how dirty Zhao Xuan was.

Their eyes lit up as they looked at Zhao Xuan, and then they started to pull down her pants.

She screamed shrilly, kicking her legs with all her might, but was quickly held down. So she tried to bite them, and was then slapped several times across the face.

Blood flowed from her nose and mouth; her mouth was agape, her brain was buzzing, and she could no longer make a sound.

A foul odor wafted onto her face; it was the smell of food scraps mixed with years of dental plaque.

And then what?

Zhao Xuan heard someone rush in, followed by the sound of iron bars hitting flesh, the crisp sound of grain being scattered on the ground, and the extremely rude curses of men.

Then she was carefully picked up and held in someone's arms, her back gently stroked.

Looking through his swollen eyelids, Zhao Xuan saw a man with a buzz cut kicking three men on the ground who were clutching their heads, and a woman peeking out from the doorway, looking in this direction with fear.

At that moment, Zhao Xuan cried in his dream.

She woke up when she cried.

For a moment, she thought she was still in the camp, because the light was dim, just like the dilapidated shack they lived in.

After thinking about it for a moment, she realized that she had accidentally fallen asleep while holding Lu An, and when she woke up it was already dark.

"Lu An..." she whispered his name, trying to pull her numb arm away, but immediately realized something was wrong. She touched his back with her other hand and found it damp and cold. She lifted his clothes and touched his back again; it was still cold.

Zhao Xuan's heart sank as well.

"Lu'an! Lu'an!" She sat up in fright, trying to hug him tightly, but he didn't react at all; his body was heavy and stiff. Zhao Xuan burst into tears, startling the 460 downstairs, who rushed upstairs barking wildly.

She hugged him tightly, her face deathly pale.

Her Lu An is dead.

In this apocalyptic world, her last remaining relative died from an illness... And what about her? Without Lu'an, what meaning do these things hold for her—the village, the rice paddies, the bamboo shoots in the yard...?

Lu An is dead, so what's the point of her living?

...

"Cough cough..."

Zhao Xuan hugged him and cried with snot and tears all over his face.

"Xuanxuan?" Lu An struggled to cover the head that was nestled against his chest and crying, then pressed it down.

Zhao Xuan looked up in surprise, a mixture of panic and delight on her face. She reached out to touch Lu An's forehead, her nose still running, and laughed again: "Lu An, your fever has gone down... I... I thought you were dead!" As she spoke, large tears streamed down her face: "You scared me to death! I was really scared to death!"

When his fever broke, he broke out in a sweat. The sweat cooled his clothes and his skin, and because he was sleeping so soundly, he really looked like he was dead.

"You're all better, that's great..." she stammered as she got up. "I'll go get you a clean set of clothes..."

Lu An suddenly found it funny, and with a bit of force, pressed her head back into his arms.

"You must be exhausted today?" he asked, after all, taking care of a patient is no easy task.

The head in her arms shook.

So what if they're tired? As long as they're all still alive and well, that's all that matters.

As long as you're alive, that's enough.

The chicken soup I simmered this afternoon has now filled every corner of the yard with its aroma.

After simmering for several hours, the soup has turned milky white. The marinated chicken is saltier and more fragrant than fresh meat, while the small pieces of bamboo shoots infuse their own sweet flavor into the oily soup, neutralizing the oily taste. No salt is needed; just sprinkle some bright green scallions on top as a garnish.

The rice that had been cooked in the morning was now cold, so Zhao Xuan didn't reheat it. He filled two bowls with rice and took the pot of bamboo shoot and chicken soup upstairs.

The sun has set, and the blue sky is tinged with a hint of orange-red. The temperature is starting to drop, and the chirping of insects during the day has changed to a different tune. The insects that were out during the day have gone home, and it's the turn of the insects that are out at night.

After changing Lu An into clean clothes, Zhao Xuan moved the table to the bedside and prepared to eat. Usually, they would sit together on the steps by the front door to eat, each with their own bowl and chopsticks. They never ate where they slept, for fear that food scraps would attract mice, but today Lu An's illness had just improved, and Zhao Xuan felt that he shouldn't go downstairs to get some fresh air, so he made an exception.

Perhaps they should set up a table in the lobby on the first floor; they've been living too casually before.

Pour the piping hot chicken broth over the rice; the rice absorbs the broth and quickly becomes hot and soft. Zhao Xuan picked out a few meaty, easy-to-eat chicken pieces for Lu An and placed them on top of the rice, also adding a few small pieces of bamboo shoots.

"Bamboo shoots are hard to digest, so eat less of them," she said.

The chicken absorbs the bamboo fragrance of the bamboo shoots, and the bamboo shoots absorb the savory flavor of the chicken. The bamboo shoot pieces, even after being cooked for a long time, do not numb the tongue and retain their crisp texture.

Zhao Xuan loves eating bamboo shoots; they're not only filling but also have a wonderful texture. On this slightly cool night, a bowl of steaming hot bamboo shoot and chicken soup will fill you with happiness.

Of course, besides 460, no one else can feel this kind of happiness.

The dog stared at the two of them with its light bulb-like eyes.

Its range of movement is generally limited to the first-floor hall, or, if you're feeling a bit more lenient, the second-floor corridor. It's not allowed to enter the rooms because after it goes out to play, it often leaves the house covered in mud.

460 was a mongrel brought back from the camp. Logically speaking, it had never interacted with other "village dogs," but perhaps due to a habit ingrained in its genes, Zhao Xuan discovered that it never urinated at home. It would never eat food that its owner had placed on chopsticks, even if it was very tempted, it would only stare longingly at it.

Zhao Xuan had seen all these habits in the village dogs, the only difference being that 460 liked to go out for a stroll alone, sometimes for an entire day.

Half a chicken wasn't much, but after both of them had been starving all day, they managed to save a few pieces of meat. A large spoonful of rice, a few small pieces of meat, and the bones they had left over—this was the best dinner Zhao Xuan could give 460 within his means.

The large leather sofa in the living room is his nest; he likes to curl up in it after eating, resting with his eyes half-closed.

After washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, Zhao Xuan closed the door, then, holding a solar-powered emergency light, carefully checked the doors and windows before walking into the living room. There, she saw the dog curled up like a lump of coal on the sofa after eating its fill.

"460, goodnight."

Turning on the light, Zhao Xuan groped his way up to the second floor in the dark.

Without entertainment, she began to follow the rhythm of working at sunrise and resting at sunset, and by the time it was completely dark, she was already lying in her soft bed.

A gust of wind blew in, rattling the windows. Zhao Xuan reached out and hugged the person beside her, who hugged her back.

Good night, safe travels.

"Goodnight, Xuanxuan."