Chapter 357 - 353: Noodles

With the reappearance of proper buildings and Hu Maomao’s help, the Federation’s eight major departments from the old Third Line—including the Archives Department and the Security Department—were re-established. The entire organization was finally getting on the right track.

Some were assigned to collect building materials in Area 4, others to salvage subway cars from the deep-water district. Hu Maomao had even dispatched a special group of quick-witted individuals to begin researching Area 1.

A professional construction team even borrowed the wooden staff and began continuously developing new areas.

As the organization started running, Zhang Wenda no longer had to handle everything himself. He finally felt like a leader, not everyone’s glorified wet nurse.

Hu Maomao had been running on pure adrenaline lately, incredibly energized and staying up very late every night.

What Zhang Wenda hadn’t expected was that, far more than his own displays of force, this tangible progress was what convinced the onlookers. People began joining the Federation in a constant stream.

After Hu Maomao’s careful screening process, their organization’s numbers finally surpassed the two-thousand mark.

"I need to talk to you about the recruitment criteria," Hu Maomao said, finding Zhang Wenda inside the Youth Palace. She had faint dark circles under her eyes. "We can’t just accept anyone. There has to be a threshold for joining, otherwise the members won’t feel a real sense of belonging."

You could tell she was exhausted from the past few days; she was clearly drained. The tentacle-legged Wang Shaojie and a woman in her twenties followed behind her, having become her aides.

"You can handle it. I trust you to get it done," Zhang Wenda said, fiddling with a wooden radio in his hands. "But you need to get some rest, too."

"Also, with the increase in population, our food shortage is getting worse. The income from the trading street isn’t nearly enough to cover our needs."

"How long can we last?" Zhang Wenda asked, setting down the radio.

"Two days, at most. Why did you recruit so many people? Do you have any basic concept of math?" Hu Maomao asked, scratching her head in frustration.

"Don’t worry, I have a plan," Zhang Wenda said with complete confidence.

"What kind of plan? We can’t even feed everyone! How many people do you think will stick with you then? Building morale takes time!" Hu Maomao was so stressed that a small blister had even formed on the corner of her mouth.

"Relax, I have a few tricks up my sleeve." Zhang Wenda put an arm around her neck and pulled her out of the Youth Palace.

Soon, Zhang Wenda led Hu Maomao to a pool near their stronghold. He took out the Triangular Device, opened it, and placed a small piece of an instant noodle brick into the square box inside.

After a long thirty seconds, a green laser beam shot out and hit the wall. The cold ceramic tiles instantly warped into the texture of instant noodles. As more green lasers fired, long strips of pale-yellow noodle bricks appeared on the wall’s surface.

The people who had followed them stared, dumbfounded by the sight. Some even dropped their weapons. The toasty, fried aroma of the noodle bricks made everyone swallow hard.

"Heh, and that’s not all!" Zhang Wenda opened the device again, took out the sample noodle piece, and tossed it into his mouth. He then opened one of their few remaining cans of braised pork. From the congealed lard, he picked out a piece of streaky pork belly and threw it into the device.

As the green light fired again, a two-meter-wide strip of braised pork appeared on the wall. The fat had already congealed, making it look rather unappetizing, but everyone present understood the value of what they were seeing.

Braised pork, instant noodles, canned yellow peaches, apples—anything could be replicated by the machine. When Zhang Wenda had his people carry the man-sized slabs of meat back to the stronghold, the excited cheers nearly blew the roof off.

Seeing the excitement and fervor in everyone’s eyes, Zhang Wenda grinned at Hu Maomao. "See? There’s your morale boost."

But even so, Hu Maomao remained unsatisfied. "This isn’t a long-term solution. The energy in that device will run out eventually. And we have no idea where that pearl came from, and—"

"Maomao, Maomao!" Zhang Wenda cut her off, looking at her seriously. "You don’t need to be like this. We have time."

"But—"

"No buts. You’re overthinking things. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You’re not alone. Leave the rest to me. What you need right now is to get some proper rest."

Hu Maomao wanted to argue, but seeing the insistent look in Zhang Wenda’s eyes, she finally nodded.

The moment she nodded, exhaustion washed over her like a tidal wave. She forced herself to float toward the entrance of the Youth Palace.

Once she reached the game room, she lay down on a makeshift bed of tables pushed together and instantly blacked out.

In a daze, she lost all track of time. She hadn’t slept this soundly since the Cataclysm. Every fiber of her being, from the tips of her hair to her toes, felt utterly relaxed.

As she stretched lazily and slowly opened her eyes, she found herself covered with a thick curtain that had been sourced from who-knows-where.

Just then, to the sound of pattering footsteps, the little yellow Zhang Wen carefully carried a steaming bowl of freshly cooked instant noodles with both hands and dutifully brought it before Hu Maomao.

"Auntie, eat your noodles."

A warmth spread through Hu Maomao’s heart, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. She reached out and patted his head. "Little Wenda, you’re a good boy."

"I made it! Try it."

Hu Maomao took the bowl. Steam, carrying the toasty scent of wheat and the unique fragrance of instant noodles, wafted into her face.

The bowl was metal, as were the chopsticks. It couldn’t be helped—if there was one thing they had plenty of, it was metal.

But the unusual tableware did nothing to diminish the flavor. The metal chopsticks dipped into the bowl, lifting a few strands of noodle that were soaked in broth yet still perfectly springy.

The seasoning from the powder packet and the fat from the oil packet were perfectly balanced, the flavors unfurling across her tongue. With a SLURP of the broth, a feeling of warmth and satisfaction spread from the inside out.

"Auntie, is it good? If it’s not, then Red must have made it," Yellow said, carefully watching her eat.

As Hu Maomao ate, tears began to stream from her eyes.

She suddenly reached out and hugged him tightly. ’Everything is changing so fast. The pressure is too much. I can’t keep holding on by myself.’

’The Third Line is gone. My only home is gone. What am I even living for?’

’Is it even possible to rebuild the Third Line? Can I really do it?’

’Everyone died. Why wasn’t I one of them?’

After she finished the entire bowl of noodles, broth and all, Hu Maomao finally felt like she was alive again.

"We’ll succeed. We’ll definitely succeed!" Hu Maomao repeated in a choked voice next to Yellow’s ear.

"Yeah. We’ll succeed," Yellow said, patting her on the back.

Once Hu Maomao had calmed down a bit, Yellow ran out and returned holding a large piece of apple. "Auntie, have some apple."

"Okay. You have some too." Hu Maomao broke off half for him.

Yellow waved his hands frantically. "I can’t. The consciousness body already ate. If I eat too, I’ll be too full."

Hu Maomao led him over to a window in the Youth Palace. Gazing out at the bustling little cement city they had built indoors, her restless heart finally grew calm.

’We can start over. It’s not the end. I’m still alive, Zhang Wenda is still alive, and there must be other survivors from the Third Line out there.’

Just then, Hu Maomao felt Yellow shaking her hand.

"Auntie, the consciousness body is calling for you. He’s in the model airplane room."