Apocalyptic Flood: Sexy Beauty Neighbor's Midnight Plea for Food Chapter 3 Borrowing Grain from a Neighbor

He had obtained ten bags of flour back in those days as well. Over the last six months, by combining rice, flour, and various grains for meals, he had already used up more than half of his stock.

With practiced ease, he sliced the strips of meat and prepared four green peppers, all while a nagging worry about a major issue crept into his mind.

"The biggest worry right now revolves around essential services like water, electricity, and gas."

"Tap water is contaminated at this point, the power grid failed during the second week of endless rain, and without my generator and that old outdoor battery, keeping the computer and phone charged would be a real struggle."

Thankfully, prior to the internet blackout, he managed to save a ton of survival guides and practical knowledge from online sources.

Everything was saved onto his computer and external drives, even if it meant clearing out some of his old teaching materials.

Whenever he found a spare moment, he would review those documents, convinced they could prove invaluable if the situation ever demanded it.

At minimum, he ought to absorb as much as possible while power generation remained feasible.

"Gas poses yet another critical threat. The main supply line was severed ages ago. Fortunately, during the apartment renovation, I secured two hefty gas canisters."

Indeed, he relied on gas canisters for cooking at home, a setup uncommon in modern city dwellings.

During the renovation phase for Liang Yuan, utilities like water and electricity weren't hooked up yet, and unwilling to splurge on temporary housing, he settled in prematurely.

Since he had to prepare his own meals in those early days, he purchased two 15-kilogram gas canisters.

Shortly after acquiring them, the home natural gas line was installed, leaving him to rue the expense on the canisters.

Who could have foreseen that, merely two months into the flooding, the natural gas would cease entirely.

With rising waters persisting and official aid lagging, those two canisters turned into a lifeline.

Over the previous three months, cooking and heating water had depended solely on them.

Truth be told, possessing a pressure cooker was a stroke of luck; without it, the gas would have depleted far sooner.

Lacking gas would make meal preparation a nightmare.

Folks sheltering in the corridors were scavenging driftwood and plastics to burn as fuel.

Moreover, access to clean water remained the ultimate peril.

Though floodwaters surrounded everything outdoors, it was all brackish seawater.

Myriad bodies drifted amid the waves, alongside bizarre mutated beings, leaving uncertainty about the risks of consumption.

Rain from above offered a potential source, and Liang Yuan noticed neighbors suspending containers from their windows to catch it.

Rainwater served as his primary water supply too.

Yet, before any use, he always strained and boiled it thoroughly to guarantee safety.

Lost in these thoughts, he completed slicing the green peppers.

Liang Yuan adeptly warmed oil in the wok. Ginger, garlic, and cooking wine had vanished from his stores long before.

Still, a few green onions persisted on the balcony.

However, after half a year without proper sun, they appeared spindly and underfed, like mere strands.

He left those onions alone and instead added soy sauce, vigorously tossing the meat strips in the heat.

As the frying continued, the meat took on a tempting golden hue, filling the air with an irresistible scent.

Seizing the intense flame, Liang Yuan added the pepper strips, flipping them rapidly.

A sprinkle of salt later, and a steaming plate of savory green pepper pork stir-fry emerged.

Liang Yuan switched off the burner and lifted the pressure cooker's lid, mixing the stir-fry right in.

Rice was steaming inside the cooker.

Without home electricity, the rice cooker sat idle for months; gas now handled the cooking.

Using a pressure cooker sped up the process and conserved fuel, finishing rice in only five to ten minutes.

That efficiency explained how he stretched two canisters over such a long haul.

Blending the dish with the rice created a hearty serving of green pepper pork over grains.

As he mixed it all, a wave of gratitude washed over Liang Yuan.

He understood full well that, half a year into the deluge, scarcity ruled outside, with many lacking even basic shelter.

Apartments overflowed with occupants; passages and halls served as makeshift homes too.

Desperation drove some to invade dwellings without invitation.

Others resorted to crafting flimsy rafts on the surface.

Naturally, provisions presented the gravest challenge.

Though unaware of everyone else's plight, the couple opposite had visited nearly daily last week, on the verge of pleading for scraps.

At first, the husband approached to request rations, and Liang Yuan figured neighbors should support one another in disaster.

Thus, he shared some supplies.

But gradually, the harsh reality sank in for all.

Following six months of unrelenting downpours and stalled governmental aid, broadcasts from officials months back had pushed for personal initiatives.

From that point, Liang Yuan ceased offering food to those across the way.

In the recent month, the husband quit asking directly, dispatching his wife to slip over and plead instead.

Each visit, she donned revealing outfits.

Liang Yuan barely knew them, just exchanging nods in the lift now and then.

From lurking in the residents' chat, he gathered they were native to the area.

This building came via full payment from relocation payouts.

In Linjiang City, locals enjoyed affluence; demolition beneficiaries often turned into quick-rich folks with multiple holdings.

Thanks to old family planning rules, households typically raised just one offspring.

Those with a single girl might seek a groom to join the family.

Yet, certain opportunists eyed these well-off natives, feigning unions to siphon wealth.

Once such schemes surfaced, caution spread among locals against outsiders in marriage, leading to pairings strictly within their circle.

They skipped old rituals, opting instead for family consolidations.

Unions blended two households into one, bypassing bride prices or dowries.

Equality guided them, with offspring alternating parental surnames.

The pair opposite exemplified this merged-family setup.

The husband seemed ordinary, likely early thirties, whereas the wife dazzled, perhaps twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

Her ample, rounded chest especially tempted; on multiple knocks, Liang Yuan nearly yielded and answered.

Right then, a gentle rap echoed at the door.

Liang Yuan halted, instantly identifying the pattern.

"As if summoned by thought," he murmured with a grin.

That faint tapping style pointed unmistakably to the couple next door.

Burglars wouldn't tap; they'd force entry.

Liang Yuan approached the entrance, grabbing the hallway mirror to peer through the spyhole indirectly.

Through the reflection stood a woman in a clinging pale yellow dress, about twenty-seven or eight, with flowing dark hair.

The garment accentuated her voluptuous form.

Prominent were her full, spherical breasts, forming a striking valley.

Her face held refined beauty, akin to actress Yang Gongru.

Liang Yuan shifted the mirror for a full view, confirming solitude, before unlocking the inner door.

"Sister Mei, what brings you here?"

By chance, she shared the surname Yang, though her given name was ordinary: Yang Mei.

At twenty-five, calling her Sister Mei suited perfectly.

Yang Mei's complexion appeared wan, lips dry and cracked.

Yet, she had freshened up prior to venturing out, hair shining and makeup subtle.

Evidently, lip moisturizer was depleted; else, her mouth wouldn't look so parched.

"Little brother, Sister... Sister hasn't had a bite in days. Our pantry's empty. Would you kindly spare some food for Sister?"