Famine 49: Lakeside Meadow Restaurant

[Day 17 / 6:30 AM / Farm Owner’s Cottage / Current Farm Fullness: 51%]

With the new day’s sunrise, the farm before him had been completely transformed.

If an LV1 farm was a countryside homestead and an LV2 farm was the holding of a self-sufficient smallholder,
then LV3 was a sprawling, intensively-managed American-style estate.

The cottage faced the lake, a small yard by the door, the water sparkling in the morning light. Beyond that, dozens of hectares—all farm property.
The land was not perfectly flat but gently undulating; rolling meadows stretched as far as the eye could see, picturesque beyond words.

Behind the farm owner’s cottage rose a dense, shadowy forest. From here, one couldn’t see what lay within.

Along the farm’s edge circled a wooden palisade, reminiscent of a small village stockade, three or four meters high. The outside was coated in some unknown oily substance, easily neutralizing the invasions of centipede-men or other minor threats.

Si Zhiyan drew a deep breath, lungs filling with the crisp scent of green grass.
He had worn the title of farm owner for so long—now, at last, he truly looked the part.

This time, the farm’s expansion was so vast as to be breathtaking, even absorbing the nearby Service Player settlement.

Early risers among the Service Players stepped out of their homes, dumbfounded at their surroundings.

Smack! The smith slapped himself hard, muttering as he cupped his face, “Am I dreaming? Is this still the apocalypse?”

Pharmacy owner Li Xuan grinned, “What else could it be? Definitely it’s the farm owner’s doing!”

A few Service Players from rural backgrounds knelt to grab a handful of moist, fertile earth, exclaiming, “Good land! Top-notch black soil! In my home village, you’d never get to farm a plot this fine unless you had connections.”

Li Cui’e’s daughter, Li Yutong, stared wide-eyed at the green grass, murmuring, “So beautiful…”
Suddenly remembering something, she dashed inside, and soon returned with a carry basket, setting it on the grass.

Inside was Yun Shengsheng. Now that life had improved, Yun Zhong no longer had to take the child to work each day. Left at the dorm, she was found by Li Yutong, who’d come to deliver something for her mother.
Unbeknownst to the adults, the two little girls, close in age, had become fast friends.

“Yay!” Yun Shengsheng grabbed the edge of the basket, giggling as she reached for the dewy grass. The next moment, she toppled the basket completely.
The two girls tumbled onto the lawn, rolling and shrieking with laughter.

Their joyful voices drifted on the morning breeze.

Li Cui’e, unable to hold back a smile, called out, “Careful now! Don’t squish your sister Shengsheng!”

Wang Tang, meanwhile, had deeper thoughts.
He surveyed the cheerful crowd and the distant high wall, awestruck. “The farm owner accounted for even this…?”

Beside him, Li Cui’e, Li Xuan, and Wu Jing—the three settlement leaders—all fell silent, exchanging glances before all looking toward the farm owner’s cottage.

“I kept worrying about how to ask for help, whether it’d be too much trouble…”
Li Xuan wore a wry smile.
“I never dreamed, he’d already accounted for everything.”

The Bone Ferry was rebuilding, and most players chose to stay there, helping Commander Nie restore their home.

But some, though still loyal to Commander Nie, chose to pack up and come to the farm, joining the Service Player community.
Some were relatives or friends of those who’d left earlier, some wanted more freedom and space, others simply sought new opportunity. Different motives, but all added to this new family near the farm.

Tang Qinghuai’s senior, Li Shize, was among them.

With those driven out by Gu Haoping’s policies, the newcomers now totaled about two hundred—many lacking shelter. The original wall around the settlement had been a hasty barrier, unable to house so many. Many pitched tents outside, sleeping nervous and uneasy.

Lin Qiushui and others took emergency night-and-day patrol shifts, fending off several waves of centipede-men to barely maintain security.

The leadership trio and Wang Tang had discussed this many times but found no solution.

In the Xanadu world, the scrapyard was relatively safe—centipede-men weren’t too strong, and manageable. But with less than twenty days until the next Hunger Game world, nothing was certain. If the new environment proved too dangerous, what would they do?

Now, the four-meter wooden wall in the distance was the answer.
If your safety can’t be guaranteed, why not expand the farm’s protection to cover everything?

Even in wildest dreams, none had dared imagine this.

While the children played in the grass, the adults—knowing well the cost of survival—gazed quietly at the far-off walls, as though witnessing a miracle.

Wang Tang breathed deep, tears in his eyes. “How did we ever deserve to meet such a man…”
He couldn’t say how many times the farm owner had saved them. “I really don’t know how to thank him.”

Wu Jing murmured, “Should I gather everyone and knock on his door to offer a ritual kowtow and recite a long thank-you letter?”

Li Xuan pictured the crowd scene and was speechless. “…That might be a bit much.”

Wang Tang pondered for a while, then looked up sharply:
“Have you ever considered—why is the farm owner so good to us?”

“He’s compassionate, but with his wisdom and foresight, it can’t just be on a whim—he must have some larger aim!”

“We can’t just accept his goodness. We must figure out how to repay him, consciously and with purpose…”

“Oh?” At once, everyone gathered around him, eager. “Please, tell us your thoughts…”

…………
……

Si Zhiyan knew nothing of this conversation.

Since the Service Players welcomed the farm’s protection so enthusiastically, there was nothing more to discuss.

With the farm’s expanded domain, everything he’d bought before finally had a place.

[Not-So-Honest Mill (Enchanted: Level 1)]
A mill that produces basic flour. Input a set amount of grain, receive an output of 40% by weight as flour.
That’s actually pretty generous—half a millennium ago, even this 40% output would’ve been taxed at sixty percent.
[Level 1 enchantment: Whatever grain you input, you can produce any type of flour at will.
—Why should flour be so inconvenient?]

Thump! When set down, a huge windmill rose atop the meadow; its sails slowly turned, making for quite the picturesque view.
No proper farm is complete without a mill.

Si Zhiyan bought this one just for that enchantment—not distinguishing between grains, whatever you fed it became whatever flour you wanted.
Buckwheat, refined wheat, even rice flour… all covered by the “flour” category.

He tried using rice as feedstock, and sure enough, snowy-white flour poured out from the spout.
As long as there was grain, the mill didn’t care what kind.

A much richer menu, and Si Zhiyan nodded in satisfaction.

That said, the return rate really was “not so honest.” As a starting facility, a fixed 60% waste was a steep cost.

Si Zhiyan, expressionless, dumped bag after bag of rice in.
But the farm’s rice tree was inexhaustible, so who cared. jpg

The “(Enchanted: Level 1)” meant it could be upgraded in future—not in the shop now, but something to look forward to.

The mill brought another unforeseen benefit.

Pharmacy owner Li Xuan, upon seeing the mill, was instantly smitten. Rubbing his hands, he pleaded with Si Zhiyan to sell him some flour, along with hotpot ingredients and spices.

Si Zhiyan set the price at 100 points per bag of flour; condiments at the seasonings-well could be taken freely, provided some of the resulting dishes found their way to him.

That very night, Si Zhiyan had his first steaming hot lamb bun.

The buns were big and plump, the skin thin and glossy with meat juices seeping up from below. Bite in, and the explosive aroma of lamb fat burst out, crisp cartilage dancing under your teeth; the 20/80 veg-to-meat mixture seasoned just right, blending into a meaty, savory whole. Piping hot, you dared not even let go, turning and puffing to cool it as you hurried to finish the lot.

Let them soak—a long-dipped bun, saturated with broth, was pure toothsome delight. The dough, leavened from good flour, was aromatic and chewy—Si Zhiyan sometimes thought the soup-soaked bun was even tastier than the filling itself.

Finishing his meal, and emboldened at last, Si Zhiyan put on his coat and genteelly knocked on Li Xuan’s tent in the Service Player quarter:

“Would you be interested in becoming a farm employee?”

He offered Anderson’s benefits, plus a daily salary of 700 points.

“Ah?” Li Xuan, mid-bite of a bun, was stunned.

Next to him, Li Cui’e jabbed hard with her elbow, sending him three feet in the air as he yelled, “Yes!! Very interested!!”

So Si Zhiyan got himself a chef.

A chef of truly rare skill.

Li Cui’e, ever generous, assigned him a helper to mind the pharmacy.

So the pharmacy owner overnight became the farm’s chef, eager to display his skills.

“Don’t laugh—my childhood dream was to cook for a living. Not run a restaurant, just cook, day by day— seeing people happy to eat my food, that’s all I ever wanted.”
Li Cui’e caught him smiling as he kneaded dough.
“My whole family practiced medicine, and I was forced to study a bit. If not for that, I wouldn’t be here now—but I was never much good for it.”

“Now look at me—earning more than I ever did before. Feels wonderful.”

Li Cui’e said, “Who’s laughing at you? A man who can keep a good home is a treasure.” Men who’re too ambitious outside always make more trouble at home; she’d rather not bother.

His hand slipped and face flushed red as he stammered, “S-sis, do you—what does—that mean?!”

Li Cui’e smiled, not explaining, arms folded, chin lifted. “What’re you working on now? Give me a taste.”

So the farm menu now offered cumin lamb, oyster sauce beef, and teriyaki chicken buns.

In a few days, Li Xuan added beef noodle soup, and lamb noodle soup. The high broth simmered rich and clear, green onions floating on the bright brown surface, filling the air with mouthwatering aroma.

Sipping beef soup and biting into a steaming bun, Si Zhiyan couldn’t be happier.

Thanks to the mill and Li Xuan, the menu multiplied; he even set aside a house section as a kitchen for Li Xuan, fitting it with all new fixtures.

With the kitchen set, he went further and bought another building, knocked out the wall, joined the two, and filled it with tables and chairs. Now guests could eat in comfort no matter the wind, rain, or snow.

What used to be a food stall was now a very proper community restaurant.

Si Zhiyan devoted special effort to designing the dining flow. Li Xuan drew up a list—clean water, prep, storage, staff entrance—and for the first time, Si Zhiyan learned just how intricate a restaurant’s workings could be. The dining and kitchen areas were nearly equal in size, sometimes the kitchen even larger.

For serving, Si Zhiyan brought out a previously purchased item—
[Anything-for-Sale Vending Machine].

There were many types; he picked a tall, slim glass-fronted model.

Placed between kitchen and dining room, with the menu preset, items could be self-ordered and dispensed, serving up to five diners at once.

Swapping out the old tables for beautiful hardwood ones, adding a floor-to-ceiling window by the lake, and decorating with little vases and paintings—it all came together.

A lively, lovely lakeside meadow restaurant—completed at last.

Si Zhiyan nodded in satisfaction.

With food such a daily need, the lakeside restaurant was swamped on its first day.

People came in groups, tired and hungry, wolfing down delicious food while admiring the setting.

[Ding! You’ve gained 60 points.]
[Ding! You’ve gained 120 points.]
[Ding! You’ve gained 50 points.]
[Ding! You’ve gained 70 points.]
…………
……

Similar prompts rang ceaselessly.
Si Zhiyan had to switch off all reminders below 200 points, else he’d hear nothing else all day.

Time trickled by, day after day.

Gradually, at every mealtime, crowds surged from the settlement to the restaurant—it became a daily habit.

“Hurry up, what took you so long today?” a Service Player shoved a friend. “I want Brother Li’s lamb buns—they’re limited!”

“Sorry, sorry—had a job run late.” He paused, then suggested, “How about we run? Maybe we’ll get a window seat.”

“Let’s go!” The other thumped his fist.

They dashed off, soon overtaking everyone and leading the crowd.

Everyone else exploded in mock outrage.
“Running now?!” Wu Jing fumed. “Competing, are we? Gonna compete?”

Who wouldn’t outdo you! He pulled his laces tight and sprinted—the rest following suit, none willing to be left behind.
Some Qualified Players, unwilling to lose, crouched and triggered steam-boosted shoes—deploying charms to cheat!

By the time Si Zhiyan strolled down for breakfast, all five queues at the vending machine snaked through the restaurant, every seat taken, the place packed.

Two players at the window raised their buns in triumph, cheering, “Delicious! We made it! Buns forever! Window view forever!”
Those still in line glared at them with envy.

Si Zhiyan: “…..”
Couldn’t win. No way to win.

So, expressionless, he slipped out, circled to the staff entrance, drifted through the kitchen, and made off with two buns and a bowl of porridge.
Back in his own living room, beside his floor-to-ceiling window, he finally let out a tranquil sigh.

And then there was the lakeshore.

With the [Aquatic Accelerator], fish and shellfish matured every five days or so.
After a long wait, it was finally harvest time.

Si Zhiyan hauled up the rope—the eco-trap cage clattered, weighed down with a trove of plump shellfish. In this fantastical pond, all kinds of shellfish coexisted, not just Earth species. The biggest oysters were two palms wide.

As for the fish, they were almost ridiculous—big and small alike, some five or ten pounds, and some even bigger, leaping and thrashing in the lake’s whirlpools, every one fat and glossy.

Si Zhiyan wasted no time—gathered up a pile of oysters and scallops, setting up his [Barbecue Set] and [Fishing Game] on the lakeshore.

Splash!

Facing the water, he rolled out a wide wooden deck.

Along the water’s edge, two rows of beach chairs.

The first set lay closer to the crowd. Each chair came with a mounted harpoon gun—
anchored to the bank like a pro-fishing arcade game, complete with sights and grip handles. Grasp the handle, swing the sight, and see beneath the surface; press the trigger, and the harpoon fires. Multiple rapid taps let you reel the harpoon back.

The second row was further off; every chair here equipped with a fishing rod.
Each set had multiple rods, long and short, in different materials and stiffnesses—what anglers call “tuning.”

In short, nothing was lacking.

Compared to the bustling harpoon area, the rod zone was tranquil and relaxing.

It sat at the deck’s far end—out of earshot of the noisy crowd, so fishermen could bait and wait in peace.

Thirty round tables dotted the deck’s near edge, each table with a central cutout for a self-heating grill.
On the other side were a dozen hotpots—spicy, tomato, yin-yang, whatever you wanted—and a station for endless condiments and herbs.

Whatever you speared or caught could be cooked and eaten at once—simple and convenient.

Once set up, Si Zhiyan clapped his hands, admiring the pristine new lakeside platform.

Admission: 300 points per person, no time limit. All catch is fresh-caught, fresh-cooked, all self-serve.
If you don’t finish and want to take anything home, weigh and pay points.

Craving more oysters? Just pay extra.

Si Zhiyan had long dreamed of this.
Harvesting crops was one thing—fishing meant raising, catching, and cooking yourself. It would never be enough work for one man.

Why not create a real, all-in-one farmstay, let everyone taste the joy of the harvest?

You do all the work—and pay me for the privilege! Makes perfect sense!

Yet for now, he couldn’t open the area.

Whenever he tried, the system would prompt:

[Ding! Farm still has modules loading—fishing game currently unavailable.]
[Please be patient, or resolve the loading problem.]

Si Zhiyan slowly raised his head, gaze turning to the edge of the farm.

There, swathed in mist, the huge forest rose behind the meadow, trees reaching for the clouds, deep and silent.
Even the wild grass there grew waist high.

[Legendary Terrain – Dense Forest].

A brand-new reward from LV3.

On the first day, Si Zhiyan had tried to go in. But heavy fog blocked the way, confining him to the edge. No matter how far he pushed—real body or avatar—the deep fog would yield only the same message:

[Ding! Current terrain module is loading.]
[Please submit: Terrain Bait.]

What was “terrain bait”…? Si Zhiyan frowned, completely at a loss.

The still-unloaded patch of farm caused other problems too.

While the terrain module wasn’t finished, even the farm core was dormant. The huge black mass breathed in slow motion, expanding and contracting but unresponsive.
Not even the next main quest appeared.

Everything seemed stalled.

Solving the in-progress forest module had become top priority.

But in all his time in the Xanadu world, Si Zhiyan hadn’t seen a forest like it.
He’d have to wait for the next world to explore further.

That day, after Shi He’s group opened Pandora’s Box, the tunnel to the Xubei Squad once again became a black hole—nothing could be seen within.
Fog covered the entrance; above the mist, a golden timer ticked:
[Time until next world transition: 20 days.]
[Time until Pandora’s Box is solved: 20 days.]

Only the Main God’s vast eye hung overhead, gaze mocking and half-lidded, watching all below.

Everything fell quiet and still.
Time trickled by.

Until, at midnight on the twentieth day—
On this day, all players had long since locked themselves indoors, shutting doors and windows, no one daring even to show their face.

Boom!

A thunderous roar echoed from the sky—then from the basement beneath Si Zhiyan’s feet.

The earth shuddered; a dense white fog spilled out, enveloping the whole world. At some point, everything outside the window faded into chaos, no daylight left.

The Frost-Horned Rabbit sensed something, growing anxious, huddling on Si Zhiyan’s lap as it cast nervous glances around.

“It’s starting.”
Si Zhiyan lounged by the window, coffee in hand, soothing the rabbit’s back as he murmured,
“The Hunger Game’s world transition… has begun.”