At night, Tan Xiao, Pan Xiaoxin, and Teacher Cheng—the three of them—played poker on the mattress.

Pan Xiaoxin didn’t know how at first, but later took turns winning with Teacher Cheng.

Tan Xiao lost every hand.

Bai Youwei listened to the sounds outside—the shuffling, Tan Xiao’s complaints, the crackling of the campfire… and slowly fell asleep.

Shen Mo looked at her peaceful, carefree sleeping face and also closed his eyes.

…

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, Teacher Cheng began bustling about preparing breakfast.

He first opened two bags of milk and cooked a pot of milk porridge.

Worried that porridge alone wouldn’t fill up Tan Xiao and Shen Mo, he mixed flour into a thin batter, added salt and MSG, then beat in two eggs. He put a little oil in the flat pan, poured in the batter, rotated the handle, and slowly made a thin egg pancake.

You could eat it directly, dip it in sauce, or roll it up with scallions or cucumber strips.

While making breakfast, Teacher Cheng kept muttering, “The milk will expire in a few days. Even if it expires, don’t throw it away—it’s best for steaming buns, fragrant and fluffy…”

All accumulated experience from decades of life.

Tan Xiao and Pan Xiaoxin, one big and one small, squatted by the roadside brushing their teeth, sporting matching bedhead.

Shen Mo accompanied Bai Youwei to wash up inside the hotel.

On the other side at the five-person camp, apparently infected by them, they no longer wanted to do things carelessly. Instead, they started a fire, set up a pot, wanting to eat a proper breakfast.

Ingredients were plentiful, but skills were limited.

Lu Ang wanted to cook a pot of porridge but ended up burning it into rice—half of it scorched at that.

Finally Zhu Shu took over, scooped out the unburned rice and set it aside, then cooked two potatoes, mashed them, added salt and pepper to season, then added diced ham sausage, and finally mixed it with the rice, kneading them into balls and frying them in the flat pan.

Fry a bit, press it down, flip it over—golden, crispy rice cakes.

Golden and bright, crispy on the outside, soft inside, with a savory, fragrant taste.

Li Li ate some and praised highly, “Zhu Shu! I didn’t expect you could actually cook!”

Yan Qingwen ate a couple bites, also somewhat surprised, looking toward Zhu Shu. “Celebrity schedules should be very tight, right? You have time to cook?”

Zhu Shu smiled. “I wasn’t famous from the start. When I was doing extra work before, I cooked for myself.”

Su Man ate in sullen silence without a word.

Perhaps because accepting someone’s food makes you indebted, she surprisingly didn’t attack anyone this time.

After eating for a while, Yan Qingwen stood up and called Lu Ang over, wanting to go to Shen Mo’s side to discuss matters.

—They were about to move the congested vehicles. To avoid triggering the game, at most only two people could do this, so they needed to give Shen Mo’s side a heads-up to prevent the two teams from running into each other and confusedly getting pulled into a game.

Zhu Shu patted the crumbs off her clothes and also stood up, saying with a smile, “I’ll go with you. I’m used to drinking a cup of black tea every morning. The hotel should have tea bags.”

Su Man coldly glanced at her, about to say she was being pretentious.

The words reached her lips, but seeing Li Li glaring at her, she pressed her lips together and held back.

Early in the morning, she didn’t want to make everyone unhappy.

…

Yan Qingwen led his teammates to the hotel entrance.

In the pot was leftover milk porridge, on the mattress was a scattered pile of poker cards. Tan Xiao was holding Pan Xiaoxin up a tree to pick loquats. Bai Youwei sat under the tree directing them. Teacher Cheng was watering the scallions and coriander in the flowerpots.

Although mentally prepared, seeing this scene before him, Yan Qingwen still had to admire the other party’s good mentality.

Like two channels on TV: one showing apocalyptic survival, the other showing a leisurely vacation.

Shen Mo was inspecting the vehicle. Seeing them approach, he lowered the hood and asked, “What’s the matter?”

Yan Qingwen smiled faintly, slightly raising his chin toward the congested road section. “That road isn’t easy to navigate, so I came to ask about your departure time—want to stagger our schedules.”