Famine 232: Assault Squad Set Meal Rice Bowl

　　Boom!

　　At the officer’s command, everyone charged off like a herd of wild donkeys breaking loose.

　　Yamada was left standing at the rear, languidly calling after them, “Hey~ everyone~ don’t relax too much~ lunchtime is also…”

　　But the others were already hundreds of meters away, too far to hear his feeble muttering.

　　A group once utterly exhausted suddenly burst forth with unstoppable energy, each showing off their own skills, using every trick at their disposal. In the blink of an eye, there was nothing left on the horizon but a swirl of dust.

　　The canteen! Food!!
　　Isn’t the entire point of living to eat?!

　　Most people who’ve been to college have probably had a similar realization:
　　If at all possible, never try to compete with freshmen who have just finished military training for food at the dining hall.

　　But now, here, there were tens of thousands of people who had survived military drills and exhaustion, their bodies all strengthened, these were all robust, battle-ready players.

　　Even zombies would shy away in their presence.

　　Though there were rules for eating in batches, when the crowd finally burst through the cafeteria doors, even the servers behind the counter were stunned…

　　“Move aside! I’m first!!”

　　Through the rolling clouds of dust, Hu Yongchang leapt to the very front of the queue.

　　To say he charged to the head of the line isn’t entirely accurate—he’d barely taken any steps on his own; he’d simply been shoved and squeezed along by the others all the way…

　　As a member of the assault squad, he was initially crammed between the nimble assault group, then, with his solid muscles, squeezed his way through the thin and wiry youngsters, emerging at the front…

　　Ah! It was all a mess—how embarrassing!

　　Hu Yongchang rubbed his hands in excitement, already feeling the fragrance of the steaming food invading his nostrils.

　　Life was full of unpredictability, and some spicy, savory surprises only he could know.

　　But—why was this cafeteria window covered with wooden boards?

　　The server quickly snapped out of her daze, holding a huge iron tray with her left hand and a large ladle in her right. “Squad?” she called.

　　Hu Yongchang replied, “Assault squad!”

　　Bang!

　　One of the windows swung open.

　　Inside, row after row of square trays filled with dishes stretched as far as the eye could see:

　　The braised pork belly was cut into big, thick chunks of premium pork belly, gleaming with a glossy, rich sauce, exuding an irresistible aroma; the twice-cooked pork was sliced thinner, its edges crispy and browned, stir-fried with fermented black beans and green garlic; the sweet and sour fried pork was coated in a shiny glaze, the crust still audibly crisp; there were also sizzling grilled spicy intestines, spicy pork knuckle, braised fatty beef, sauerkraut with white pork, wild garlic with cured pork, stir-fried venison, braised wild hare…

　　And that wasn’t all—there were people continually bringing out even more from the back.

　　Every dish was full of flavor and oil, packed with salt and calories, perfectly tailored for those engaged in heavy manual labor.

　　The sight alone was overwhelming—enough to give even the most decisive person a bout of decision paralysis.

　　After a full day of grueling training, Hu Yongchang’s stomach was crying out in hunger, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets: “I’ll have everything, a bit of each!!”

　　“What’s the rush?” the server scolded, scooping rice, “At least pick one as your group’s main!”

　　Hu Yongchang blurted out in anxiety, “Who can get by with just one?! Give me braised pork, braised fatty beef, sweet and sour pork, spicy pork knuckle… yes, yes, give me big pieces, what’s that behind? Pig liver? Grilled intestines? I’ll have it all!”

　　“You sure you won’t regret it?”

　　“Anyone who regrets is a wimp!” Hu Yongchang shot back. Then, calculating, “Sis, the rest can go on their own plates, but cover my rice with the braised pork, don’t be stingy!”

　　The fragrant, rich gravy soaked into the steaming white rice—no better combination.

　　The server grinned, “Alright!”

　　She heaped on a huge ladleful of braised pork, thumping it atop his rice. The salty-sweet sauce instantly soaked into every grain, glistening enticingly.

　　“Thanks, sis!” Hu Yongchang was nearly moved to tears by her generosity.

　　She just laughed.

　　Serving food, she bore neither grudge nor malice to anyone here. If it weren’t for upper-level rules, who would want to skimp? They all loved ladling out extra, basking in the crowd’s praise—everyone was happy.

　　At the farm, one never worried about such things. Mr. Si had given only two instructions, and the first was—spare no expense, our warriors must eat well and eat their fill!

　　The farm had grain—bountiful, inexhaustible stores of grain!

　　There was no lack of supplies. “Go all out!” was the command.

　　So, with Hu Yongchang’s flood of flattery and thanks, the server grinned from ear to ear, cheerfully filling his tray until each compartment heaped high, the mound nearly toppling.

　　“There you are! Thanks, sis!”

　　Now it was time for…

　　A massive tray arrived.

　　Hu Yongchang: “?!”

　　It was so large he needed both hands, barely able to grip it. The previously full face-sized tray of meat and vegetables now occupied just one-ninth of an upper corner.

　　A label affixed to that corner read: [Digestible Flesh ~Livestock Type~] – Strength & Damage +60%

　　Elsewhere on the tray, a bounty of custom-crafted dishes:

　　Half a pot of spicy braised rabbit, labeled: [Lucky Dried Rabbit] – Luck boost (until tomorrow)
　　A large bowl of scallops and glass noodles in sauce, labeled: [Digestible Flesh ~Aquatic Version~] – Attack +40%, Brain Activity
　　A small plate of neatly sliced Beijing roast duck, with pancakes, scallions, sweet sauce, labeled: Digestible Flesh ~Avian Version~ – Speed +20%, Evasion +10%
　　A small bowl of steamed egg with dried scallop and ham, labeled: [Meat Processing Plant] – Attack +5%
　　A plate of smoked pork with cabbage, labeled: [Meat Processing Plant] – Defense +8%
　　A wedge of Italian salami pizza, labeled: [Pest Repellent]
　　…………
　　……

　　Each tray was heaped, dish after dish, a dazzling array.

　　Hu Yongchang: =口=

　　The server, eyes crinkling, pointed at the mountain. “This is today’s set meal for you assault squad boys. You need to finish it all~”

　　“This afternoon your officer will check—if you’re missing any Buffs, you fall behind, and you’ll be in trouble.”

　　Stone-faced with the oversized tray in his hands, Hu Yongchang suddenly remembered Yamada’s distant shout as they had rushed the door…

　　“Hey~ everyone~ don’t slack off~ Lunch is also part of your training~”

　　………
　　……

　　This was cruel!

　　Starving, Hu Yongchang sat down with his tray and slammed his chopsticks down earnestly.

　　First day of training, first time seeing the cafeteria window—there was no avoiding this trap. Around him, his comrades, each with their own mountain of food, wore expressions of solemn agony.

　　Turning his grief into appetite, Hu Yongchang dug into his braised pork rice with a vengeance.

　　A full spoonful, mixing thick, glossy, dark chunks of braised pork belly with fragrant rice—one bite, and it felt like all was forgiven.

　　Delicious!

　　The pork gleamed amber, alternating layers of fat and lean, five in total. Hu Yongchang, once a butcher, could tell at a glance—they used nothing but the finest five-layer belly, with a perfect initial ratio of fat to lean, slow-cooked to render the fat.

　　Prepared this way, after long braising, the finished pork reached a perfect six-to-four balance of fat and lean, the edges browned just enough for a hint of char. It was rich, savory, immensely satisfying, but never greasy.

　　Braised for just the right time, the fat melted in your mouth; the lean, saturated with the dark, complex sauce, was meltingly tender, almost like fried lardon, yet still full of flavor, fiber soft beyond comparison, the entire bite redolent of rice wine, both rich and subtly sweet.

　　Mixed into the rice, every bit of meat and sauce clinging to the carbs, chewed together, blending in the mouth—

　　It was simply outrageously delicious!

　　After a day of backbreaking combat training, Hu Yongchang and his squadmates were wiped out, and famished. They shoveled food into their mouths with reckless abandon, devouring mouthfuls of meat and rice, not caring about sauce smeared on their lips. Gulp after gulp, slurping and munching, the aroma overwhelming, satisfaction blasting to the top of their skulls.

　　After such an exhausting day, a free, hearty, fragrant hot meal—what in the world could be more satisfying?

　　Everyone’s appetite had grown, belts loosened a few notches. Bowls were emptied in a few rounds; some even went for self-serve soup or returned to the window for seconds.

　　Like monsters from hunter games, no matter how much was served, it could all be devoured if it was this tempting!

　　A robust female warrior, loaded with bulging muscles, a pair of giant axes resting by her knees, let out a hearty laugh, “An able fighter should eat as much as they fight!”

　　“Absolutely right!”
　　“Exactly!”

　　All around, voices chimed in.

　　With someone leading the banter, everyone quickly warmed up, talking of all sorts of things. Someone asked, “Have you seen the dorms yet?”

　　“Yeah! Four-person rooms, all-wood upper bunks with desks below, two-meter beds, private showers with hot water, bright windows—it’s beautiful.”

　　Hu Yongchang piped up, “I’m not folding my blanket, I swear.”

　　A thin girl, Lin Ya, paused, then laughed, “Haha, it’s miles better than our old camps.”

　　“I did so badly they didn’t even give me a tent. Too afraid of anomalies to undress, so I’d roll up my backpack, wrap my windbreaker around me, and sleep in the freezing open air—if I made it to morning, I considered that a win.”

　　For half a heartbeat, the room fell silent.

　　In that instant, everyone remembered the past seven years.

　　Day after day, they had run like this, danced at the edge of life and death, risked far more than they risked now, and found nothing to eat. At the end of each day, what awaited were cold, bloody camps.

　　With stomachs rumbling, each had grown used to gnawing hunger, the dizziness and blurred vision.

　　A soybean-sized, revolting ration of nutrient paste counted as a generous evening meal.

　　For this mouthful of swill, so many decent people had devolved into monsters; so many families were ruined, friends betrayed, loved ones scattered or dead… Hu Yongchang did not want to recall any of it.

　　For seven years, every one of them had starved, and every one had found ways to cope. Some traded with the Main God for smokescreens, eating that white powder like Guan Yin soil to tamp down the stomach acid; others cinched their belts, forced deep breaths—once the pain crested, the stomach would quiet, and they’d pray for a peaceful sleep…

　　Someone laughed, “You know, after I got issued the farm uniform, I still checked the belt for extra holes—there were six, and I thought of punching two more, just to cinch it tight.”

　　Everyone broke into laughter.

　　Hu Yongchang yelled, “Which notch are you on now?”

　　The speaker looked down and exclaimed, “Oh man, I’m on the outermost one, and it’s still tight!”

　　The whole room burst into uproar, good-naturedly mocking his lack of self-awareness. The dining hall filled with a cheerful, buoyant atmosphere.

　　Hu Yongchang ducked his head, shoving another bite in, surreptitiously wiping away tears.

　　As he ate, he felt a steady, fiery warmth spreading from his belly to his limbs.

　　He knew this was no illusion.

　　This, too, was a strengthening brought by the farm—an upgrade that would help him eat well, run faster, fight harder, and better protect the life he now enjoyed… and to defend the farm that gave him all this.

　　He bowed his head lower, shoveling in another mouthful of sweet and sour pork.

　　There was a fierce light in his eyes.

　　He was no man of culture, didn’t recite flowery words of praise, nor did he keep a farm master’s shrine at home… All of that was empty talk.

　　At this moment, Hu Yongchang knew: if anyone tried to drag him back to the days of hunger, he’d be ready to fight to the death.

　　The canteen was perfect!

　　Just then, a cry came from the far end of the serving line: “Oh hell!”

　　“What the—! Why on earth does the canteen have this crap? Who did this, are you for real? Disgusting—got some eating disorder or what?!”

　　“Take it away! Get rid of it!!”

　　The sharp notes of anger silenced the room. Everyone turned, warily craning to see what exactly had caused such an uproar.

　　There, in front of one player, where the soup pot should have been, a large new tub had appeared—full of a transparent, viscous substance.

　　And at a glance, everyone shouted curses.

　　“Who brought out the nutrient paste?!”