"I'm hungry!"
Jiang Jiamian glanced lazily at Ling Zhuang, then pointed at the broken table and scattered dust on the floor. "Hey, you, clean that up, and bring the table from Room 305 over here! After that, stew this chicken for me. I want chicken soup!"
As he spoke, he casually pulled a plump chicken out of his spatial space and tossed it straight toward Ling Zhuang, who had just changed into a spotless white lab coat.
The small apartment wasn't bad at all: a modest kitchen, a private bathroom, even a balcony. Before the apocalypse, such a place would have been considered shabby. But now, this was luxury. Within the base, most homes stood empty, but few were truly habitable, water and power were precious commodities.
Ling Zhuang caught the chicken leg midair with precise timing, lifting it cleanly without a single stain touching his coat. He gave Jiamian a half-smile. "Cleaning? Moving furniture? Why don't we just move into Room 305 instead?"
