It didn’t really matter. People here ate pork without even draining the blood — clearly, their tolerance for gamy smells was ridiculously high.
The liver was huge; she couldn’t finish it in one meal, but it wouldn’t keep for long either.
Shen Guoguo decided to fry half and stir-fry the other half.
If she wanted to make money, she had to keep a low profile. Those who attracted too much attention in this world tended to “log off” quickly.
Poor people’s money was hard to earn, and she didn’t want to deal with the high-ranking elites either. The best target was the majority living in the inner city — people with money but no political power.
Yang Ming was the perfect entry point.
Pig liver would be her stepping stone.
As for that silkworm, there was only one — still in its egg stage. Even if she could raise it successfully, it would take time before it produced any profit.
As she thought this, she heated up the pan and added two big spoons of freshly rendered lard.
She held her hand above the pot to test the heat — roughly eighty percent hot.
Every time Shen Guoguo cooked, she did this hand gesture. Huo Tao couldn’t help thinking it must be some kind of sacred chef’s ritual.
She dropped half the pig liver into the oil, eyes on the timer on her wristband.
Two minutes later, she scooped them out. Once the oil temperature rose slightly, she put them back in to fry again for four minutes.
After the moisture was drawn out, the liver turned slightly dry and crisp.
She picked up a piece to taste — just the right thickness, chewy yet crisp, with the smell kept within acceptable limits.
Satisfied, she fished them all out into a basin and handed a piece to Huo Tao.
“Here, try this.”
When he reached for the sugar, she quickly stopped him. “No need for sugar this time — this one’s savory. You can eat it directly.”
Hmm.
Huo Tao looked at the gray-brown piece in his hand, took a small bite, and his bright peach-blossom eyes widened a little — clearly, it suited his taste.
“This is Wujin Beast waste material?”
He had never imagined that something people always threw away — mutant beast offal — could taste this good.
“Yep. This is the Wujin Beast’s liver. Eating it replenishes blood and trace elements — it’s good for the body,” Shen Guoguo explained.
Liver… mutant beast organ…
“What’s good for the body?” Yang Ming’s voice suddenly came from the doorway.
“Uncle Yang, hello!” Shen Guoguo said brightly, inviting him in.
As Yang Ming stepped inside, his eyes first landed on the pile of mulberry leaves on the floor, but what really caught his attention were the two basins of food on the table.
“I could smell it from the alley — what is this?”
Shen Guoguo handed him a pair of chopsticks. “Uncle Yang, please try some. I made it myself.”
Yang Ming imitated Huo Tao, first tasting a piece of sugar-coated pork crackling. It melted instantly in his mouth.
Then he immediately picked up a piece of fried liver and popped it in. His eyes lit up as he chewed, a satisfied smile spreading over his face. “Guoguo, your cooking… who taught you? Honestly, your skills completely crush Chef Li’s.”
Of course they did — this was the culmination of five thousand years of Huaxia culinary tradition. What did people in this post-apocalyptic wasteland know about real cooking?
But she didn’t want to be compared to Master Li. They had no grudges, and she didn’t need unnecessary trouble.
Smiling modestly, she said, “You flatter me, Uncle Yang. I can’t compare with Master Li. I just make simple food for family and friends.”
Before he could say more, she smoothly changed the topic. “Uncle Yang, give me the silkworm egg.”
That reminded Yang Ming of why he’d come.
Good food really was distracting!
He took a small metal box from his pocket and set it on the table. “After you left, I started feeling uneasy and realized someone was watching my shop from outside. Probably people from the Ma family — still not giving up. Luckily, you two reacted quickly.”
Huo Tao’s expression grew serious. “Uncle Yang, every item brought into the base from the outside is scanned and recorded by the radiation checkpoint. To protect privacy, the base regulations prohibit revealing the item’s content.”
“But if someone with enough power wanted to find out, it wouldn’t be hard.”
“I suspect the Ma family will soon learn that you brought back two silkworms.”
“What?!” Yang Ming was stunned. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Shen Guoguo picked up the tiny black sesame–sized egg and set it gently on a dry mulberry leaf.
“It’s alright, Uncle Yang. You can take the silkworm corpse back. If the Ma family insists, just hand it over.”
“This one here is enough for us. We’ll check on it tomorrow morning.”
“That’s all?” Yang Ming asked, confused.
“Of course not. Silkworms are very sensitive to temperature. Luckily, the base stays steady between twenty and twenty-five degrees — perfect for incubation.”
“And the mulberry leaves — they have to be fresh, clean, and free of dew or pesticides.”
“This thing is fragile. It can die easily.”
“Pesticides?” Yang Ming echoed the unfamiliar word.
“Oh, never mind — the leaves from the wasteland are fine,” Shen Guoguo said. “Normally, silkworms don’t lay eggs directly. They first turn into moths and then lay them. If we see larvae hatch tomorrow morning, we’ve succeeded.”
“Alright.”
Given the situation, Yang Ming couldn’t do much more.
“Uncle Yang, it’s been a while since you and Huo Tao talked. You two chat and eat — I’ll make something else.”
Shen Guoguo went back to the stove to make stir-fried liver.
After the success of the fried version, she was confident in the quality of mutant beast organs. There shouldn’t be any problem with a quick stir-fry.
She heated up the oil, tossed in the marinated liver, and after a few seconds, threw in some washed mulberry leaves.
A few quick stirs, a pinch of salt — and done.
Her movements were smooth and fluid, like flowing water.
“Here, Uncle Yang, taste this.”
Throughout her cooking, neither Yang Ming nor Huo Tao had said a word. Both were fixated on her every move.
In Windsoil City, chefs usually spent half their time handling mutant beasts and the other half processing the meat — and their techniques were closely guarded secrets. They never let others watch.
This was the first time Yang Ming had seen it up close, and he was shocked.
So this was how real ingredients were handled.
Under Shen Guoguo’s bright smile, he picked up a glossy slice of liver with his chopsticks and put it into his mouth.
The texture was tender, slightly crisp at the edges, fragrant and flavorful — unlike any mutant meat he’d ever eaten.
Even the mulberry leaves, with their faint bitterness and sweetness, made him want more.
“Guoguo, you’re… amazing. Compared to the mutant meat I’ve eaten before, this has no foul smell at all.”
Shen Guoguo understood he meant the odor of blood and offal.
“Uncle Yang, if you like it, eat more. Huo Tao, you too.”
Even though Huo Tao already trusted her skills, the moment the liver touched his tongue, he was still astonished.
“Delicious!”
The three of them — one bite after another — finished off the stir-fried liver and the cracklings. The only thing left was a large bowl of fried liver, which Shen Guoguo packed up for Yang Ming.
“Uncle Yang, don’t be shy. You gave me clothes today; this is just a little thank-you.”
Yang Ming accepted the small cloth bag.
The food she made was priceless — and she had even promised to help raise the silkworms. Glancing at the other metal basins on the floor, he sighed softly.
He truly did enjoy eating whatever Guoguo cooked.
“Alright then, I’ll take it home and let your aunt try some.”
“Okay, Uncle Yang. This liver — the Wujin Beast’s liver — is very nourishing. It’s good for the body,” Shen Guoguo said casually.
Unexpectedly, Yang Ming froze in place.
“Good for the body?” he repeated, stunned.