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The hotpot was bubbling away on the induction cooker.

The tomato-flavored broth was boiling, with golden corn segments floating up and down.

On the other side, the Morphy Richards cooker was set to low, preheating the grill.

Every inch of the table was covered with ingredients.

A plate of lettuce and crown daisy.

Another plate with chopped cauliflower and potatoes.

A plate of sliced rice cakes, half a bag of shredded cheese, and two packs of instant noodles.

A plate of marinated chicken wings.

A plate of sliced fish.

From the kitchen came more dishes.

A large bowl of vegetable and fruit salad. The bean sprouts were likely soaked from soybeans in the storeroom.

Sausage ends and freshly thawed bacon laid together; the beef was prepared in two ways, sliced and diced.

Sodas and orange juice were placed on the table, and there were even a few cans of beer.

I took a can.

It felt wrong not to drink a bit with such a great atmosphere.

Chris brushed a layer of oil on the grill and placed half a plate of chicken wings and beef chunks on it.

Anne picked up a sausage end.

With a "sizzle," the sausage instantly sparked with oil droplets upon contact with the hot plate.

I waited until the beef was about seventy to eighty percent cooked, wrapped it in lettuce, and added some shredded cheese.

The heat from the meat quickly melted the cheese.

I rolled it up, dipped it in some hot black pepper sauce, and took a big bite without hesitation.

When we were tired of eating, we took breaks in the living room.

On TV, Shin-Chan was on a date with Ms. Nanako, while Anne's face was plastered with little paper notes from losing at poker.

All night long, the hotpot and grill were reheated several times. We ate and paused, the table cluttered with empty bottles and cans.

With the influence of alcohol, all our worries, anxieties, fears, and concerns were thrown out the window.

We ended up asking each other many secrets.

The diesel generator and telescope were just Chris's hobbies.

He often went camping in the mountains, and besides these two items, he had all the necessary equipment like tents, portable stoves, and fuel canisters, but hadn't brought them along.

We also finally learned some of his past.

Chris hadn't worked since graduating from university and had been unemployed at home since then.

His parents weren't in the country and somehow agreed to let him live like this.

We were all in the same boat, contributing to the country's low employment rate.

I couldn't help but think of my own situation.

Before I was 24, I had smooth sailing—successfully passing the college entrance exam and directly pursuing a PhD.

My daily routine involved staying in the lab, tinkering with papers. On weekends, I occasionally helped out at the research institute my advisor was in charge of.

In my plan, I would graduate on time and naturally take over the institute's work.

However, six months before graduation, my advisor's health deteriorated severely. All his PhD students were reassigned to other advisors, and the projects were paused.

My experiments heavily relied on the institute's equipment.

As a result, my paper couldn't make much progress.

Eventually, I failed the defense.

I only got my bachelor's degree.

Later, I became an unemployed biology teacher.

A series of setbacks and failures tormented me to the point of sleepless nights.

But after enduring the end of the world, those wounds gradually healed without medicine.

Humanity's most specific and eternal enemy is death. Compared to that, everything else seems insignificant.

We had such a great time that we almost missed the countdown to midnight.

While making my Lunar New Year's wish, I thought of my parents in Greenfield.

They were much more experienced than I was, having seen all kinds of storms. Plus, with the supplies I bought, they'd be fine.

Anne drank the most and soon passed out on the table.

I helped her into the bedroom and wiped her face with a warm towel.

Chris said it was hard to believe Anne and I hadn't known each other before, given our close bond.

I found it amazing too; Anne seemed to have a special affinity.

"Helen," he said, standing by the door, watching me tuck Anne in, "are you going to sleep?"

"Not yet," I said, blinking at him, "I have something to ask you."

The black cat and KK had already eaten their fill and were curled up asleep.

The small table was still messy, with poker cards scattered everywhere. I picked up a card that had fallen on the carpet—it was the ace of hearts.

Chris sat down beside me, opening a can of beer with one hand.

"Go ahead," he said with a smile in his eyes, "what do you want to ask?"

"Last time, you only told half the story," I rested my chin on my knees, "so what do you think the future of humanity will be like?"

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