Ruan Zhe followed his gaze and let out a soft gasp.
Behind her, the thick fog that had always been there had quietly dispersed. Sunlight poured down from above, landing on a newly expanded patch of grass. It was a sloped area, and from within the rolling mist, a narrow stream—about half an arm’s width—wound its way downward.
The two of them walked over in delight. The farm had originally been described as small, only about 70 square meters—about the size of a house—but now it had expanded to 100 square meters, and there was even a stream added.
“It seems we really do need to keep collecting supplies,” Ruan Zhe said thoughtfully. “But I keep feeling like we’re missing something. The car and the farm complement each other. If one improves, the other should improve too.”
The RV wouldn’t connect to the farm for no reason. Since it did, it must be encouraging them to develop it properly.
The early supplies were just to ensure their survival.
Now that they were surviving, they were expected to feed resources back into the farm.
Fu Yinli squatted by the stream and checked the water—it was crystal clear. He also reached toward the mist, only to find an invisible, soft barrier blocking him from going further.
“Then let’s just keep working on it,” he said. “Continue sorting things out. There’s still a lot to do.”
“You’re really full of energy,” Ruan Zhe said with a grin as she followed him.
Seeing hope made them both happy—and they didn’t feel tired anymore.
No matter how many difficulties lay ahead, they were already better off than most people, weren’t they?
“Salt x 9 packs, sugar x half a bag. This sugar’s clumped—set it aside and we’ll crush it later and put it into sealed containers. Peanut butter x 2 jars, Lao Gan Ma x 2 jars, honey x 2 large jars (about 3 jin each). That’s about all the seasonings and side foods.”
She flipped through several pages of her notebook.
“These medicinal herbs need to be stored properly: honeysuckle, wild chrysanthemum, and houttuynia cordata—one large pack each. Pine nuts x 2 sacks (about 80 jin). Huh? There’s also a small basket of eggs.”
Everything was placed aside.
Fu Yinli looked at the neatly arranged rows beside the granary and picked up the hunting gun.
“Don’t touch these for now. You don’t know how to use them—I’ll teach you later.”
Ruan Zhe nodded. She wasn’t stupid. She could handle axes and hammers, but she had never even seen a gun.
“You know how to use it?”
“Mm. I learned before.”
People like him—children of wealthy families—had usually gone abroad to experience things like this. He wasn’t obsessed with weapons, but his hands still itched slightly when he touched them.
“Shotgun x 1, bullets x 40. Crossbow x 1, arrows x 50. Animal traps x 12.”
The tools and daily necessities hadn’t changed much, and they organized them into categories and set them aside.
Consumables like tissues still needed to be replenished.
“With so many supplies, we can finally catch a breath,” Fu Yinli said. “We should properly develop the farm.”
After what happened with the old man, Ruan Zhe had been on edge. Now that he said that, the fatigue finally surged up.
But she wasn’t someone without conscience. Since the apocalypse began, she had seen clearly everything this “cheap husband” had done. Whether as a couple or partners, one-sided effort couldn’t last.
She knew from experience that even with a cheat ability, surviving alone in the apocalypse was extremely difficult. Fu Yinli was responsible and reliable—she couldn’t just enjoy it all without contributing.
“We rest together.”
“I won’t. I’ll finish organizing the wood.”
“That won’t do. There’s still plenty of work besides wood. You need to conserve your energy.”
Without giving him a chance to refuse, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the RV.
At their wedding, they had held hands. In social situations, she had even taken his arm gently.
But now, being pulled like this, Fu Yinli felt his steps lighten. He didn’t struggle—he simply followed her.
After days in the forest, sleeping together no longer felt awkward. They washed up in turn and lay down, exchanging a few casual words before drifting off to sleep.
Knowing there was no danger, they both slept deeply.
Ruan Zhe silently reminded herself to wake up early and make a good meal—to reward the “workhorse” Fu Yinli.
When she woke up, however, the bed beside her was empty.
She sat up and smelled a faint fragrance. On the counter, her thermos was brewing chrysanthemum tea; the power had already been turned off, and the scent drifted gently through the air.
Through the taped-up window, she saw Fu Yinli outside carrying logs back and forth.
He had been up for a long time.
She got dressed, tied her hair into a small bun, and put on sportswear. It wasn’t cold in the farm, and too many clothes would only get in the way.
Taking a cup of tea, she stepped outside.
“You’ve already moved so much?”
As she spoke, her gaze drifted over.
Fu Yinli’s gray undershirt was half-soaked with sweat, clinging to his broad back and tight waist. The hem was tucked casually into patterned pants, outlining long legs. The loose waistband still couldn’t hide the narrow but powerful hips, muscles shifting subtly with each step.
A thick log—nearly a foot in diameter and probably over a hundred jin—rested on his shoulder.
His right hand steadied the front end; his knuckles stood out sharply, veins faintly rising along his forearm.
A towel hung at his shoulder, soaked with sweat, swaying slightly as he moved.
He had clearly been working for a long time.
Even though she immediately took a sip of water, her gaze still gave her away.
Fu Yinli passed by her, his core tightening as he moved, the shirt clinging and revealing the outline of defined abs. Sweat slid down his collarbone and into deeper contours.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I got most of it done quickly. Go rest—you might bump into you.”
“I’m rested enough,” she said quickly, forcing her attention away from him.
She returned to set down her cup, then began preparing food. After so many days of hardship, treating herself properly didn’t seem unreasonable.
She prepared everything carefully first—washing and cutting all ingredients before cooking.
Fu Yinli came in for water, glanced at her busy hands, and said, “I’ll do it.”
She pushed him aside. “Get out of the kitchen. I can’t even turn around properly. Just wait—you’ll be eating your tongue off in a bit.”
Could she even cook?
She wasn’t sure—but she was about to try.