163: Chapter 163 The corridor is filled with the aroma of wheat! The first hot noodles for 30,000 people

9:20 PM.

Second-floor kitchen.

Four large pots were set upon induction stoves, the water inside churning with white foam.

Lin Wan stood before the stove, clutching a handful of freshly cut thick noodles.

The noodles were of uneven width and had a rough surface, revealing a primal wheat color.

They weren't pretty.

But they were real food.

She spread the noodles out and dropped them handful by handful into the boiling water.

The moment the noodles hit the water, splashes rose from the pots, and steam mixed with a potent scent of wheat surged upward.

Lin Wan inhaled the aroma.

This scent.

She lowered her head and stirred the pot.

The other three pots were cooking bone broth noodles; large Mutant Beast bones had been simmering at the bottom for two hours, turning the broth white and dotted with fine oil droplets.

At the kitchen entrance, Han Zhengqing stood at the front.

Behind him were one hundred and forty-seven welders and mechanics from the engineering team, as well as electricians and plumbers.

Further back were Zhao Tiezhu’s fifty novice welding students.

Nearly two hundred people stood in the corridor, forming a long line.

No one spoke.

Everyone was watching the noodles tumbling in the pots on the stoves.

The wheat aroma permeating the air mingled with the meaty scent of the bone broth, spreading from the kitchen entrance down the corridor.

Those at the back of the line sniffed the air, their necks craned long.

Han Zhengqing’s throat twitched.

“Technician Lin.”

“Chief Engineer Han.” Lin Wan didn't even look up. “Five more minutes.”

“No rush.”

Han Zhengqing’s voice was hoarse and airy.

A welder in his early thirties behind Han Zhengqing whispered to the person next to him.

“Is it really noodles?”

“Can’t you see? They’re boiling in the pots.”

“I can smell it,” the welder’s Adam's apple bobbed. “It smells just like what my wife used to make.”

“When did your wife ever make noodles?”

“Six years ago. The City-State cafeteria distributed half a catty of flour once. She made a bowl of noodle soup, and we each had half a bowl.”

“Half a bowl.”

“Half a bowl.”

The corridor fell silent for three seconds.

“It’s ready,” Lin Wan’s voice carried from the stove.

She used a pair of long chopsticks to scoop the noodles from the pot, portioning them into the lined-up iron bowls.

Bone broth was ladled from another pot and poured over the noodles.

The white broth base complemented the rough noodles, with a few slices of shredded Mutant Beast meat floating on top.

“One bowl per person, line up to collect them.”

Han Zhengqing was the first to walk to the stove.

Lin Wan handed him the first bowl of noodles.

The iron bowl was hot to the touch.

Han Zhengqing held the bowl with both hands and looked down.

The noodles bobbed in the bone broth as steam rose.

He raised the bowl and took a sip of the soup.

The scalding bone broth flowed from his lips down his throat.

It was salty.

It was savory.

It was so hot his tongue went numb.

But he held the bowl and didn't move.

He took another sip.

Then he used his chopsticks to pick up a mouthful of noodles and stuffed them into his mouth.

The noodles were thick and firm, chewy and resilient, as the wheat aroma was crushed between his teeth.

Han Zhengqing stood before the stove, a sixty-three-year-old engineer with graying hair and a straight back.

He chewed three times.

Then he stopped.

His chopsticks hung suspended over the bowl; his hands were trembling.

Lin Wan glanced at him.

Han Zhengqing’s eyes were red.

He quickly turned around, his back to the people in line, lowered his head, and wiped his face with his sleeve.

After wiping, he stood straight again.

Carrying his bowl, he walked to one side of the corridor, crouched down, and continued eating.

The second person stepped forward.

The third.

The fourth.

Everyone had a similar expression when they received their bowl.

First, a look.

Then, lips pressed tight.

Then, they carried it away.

Some crouched against the corridor wall, eating silently, their chopsticks making a clinking sound against the bowl's edge.

Some ate while standing, turning their heads away to wipe their eyes as they ate.

Some stopped halfway through, holding the bowl to their noses to inhale the scent.

No one spoke.

The only sounds in the corridor were the scraping of chopsticks against the bottom of bowls and the slurping of noodles.

Zhao Tiezhu’s fifty novices were at the very end of the line.

The young man leading them, in his early twenties, had trembling hands as he took the bowl, spilling a few drops of bone broth onto the back of his hand.

He didn't wipe it off, instead bringing the bowl to his lips and taking a large gulp.

Then he chuckled and said to the person next to him:

“It’s delicious.”

The person next to him ignored him.

Because that person already had his face buried in the bowl.

Lin Wan stood before the stove, serving bowl after bowl.

Her hands never stopped.

Song Ya helped by scooping out the noodles.

Two hundred bowls of noodles were all distributed within twenty minutes.

Only the last two pots remained on the stove.

One was the bone broth pot, with a bit of broth left at the bottom.

The other was the plain water pot.

The water was still boiling.

Lin Wan picked up a small ball of kneaded dough from the cutting board, flattened it with a rolling pin, and cut it into thin strips.

She dropped the thin strips into the plain water pot.

Three minutes later, she scooped them out and put them into a clean iron bowl.

No bone broth.

No shredded meat.

Just noodles boiled in plain water.

She pinched a bit of salt from the seasoning box and sprinkled it over the noodles.

She tossed them twice with her chopsticks.

Picking up the bowl, she walked toward the elevator.

Third-floor cockpit.

Lu Chen sat in the pilot's seat, the console before him glowing with blue light.

The elevator doors opened.

Lin Wan walked in, carrying the iron bowl.

“The noodles are ready.”

She placed the bowl beside the console.

Lu Chen looked down.

In the bowl was a cluster of noodles, plain to the extreme.

No soup, no meat, no vegetables.

Only noodles and salt.

Steam rose from the bowl, giving off a faint scent of wheat.

He picked up the chopsticks.

He picked up a mouthful of noodles.

He put them in his mouth.

The moment the noodles were crushed between his teeth, the wheat aroma filled his entire mouth.

Rough.

Firm.

Chewy.

Revealing a slight taste of salt.

They were completely different from the refined white dried noodles on supermarket shelves in his past life.

But this was real food.

It was food grown in the Dome Greenhouse of a two-hundred-and-six-meter-long steel fortress.

He chewed three times and swallowed.

He took another mouthful.

Lin Wan stood by, watching him eat without saying a word.

Lu Chen finished the noodles in the bowl.

Not a single strand remained.

He put down the chopsticks.

“Delicious.”

Lin Wan looked at him.

“Better than nutrient bars?”

“Two different things.”

“Then should I make you a bowl every day from now on?”

“We’ll talk after the second harvest. Flour is precious right now; prioritize distributing it to the residential area.”

“Alright.”

Lin Wan picked up the empty bowl.

She turned to walk toward the elevator.

She paused at the door.

“City Lord.”

“Yes?”

“Forty-seven days ago, you were gnawing on frozen nutrient bars in a six-meter-long iron coffin.”

Lu Chen didn't respond.

“Today, you ate your first bowl of noodles in a two-hundred-meter-long fortress.”

Her voice was very soft.

“These noodles are delicious because these forty-seven days have been so long.”

The elevator doors closed.

In the cockpit, only the faint hum of the console's current remained.

Lu Chen leaned back into the pilot's seat.

The scent of wheat still lingered in his mouth.

He glanced at the data on the panel.

Truth Points balance: 447.

Ray Cannon energy storage: 8 shots.

Phalanx Close-In Weapon System on standby.

To the north, it was empty.

The signal log flashed dark red.

He closed his eyes.