Chapter 3 | The First Full Meal Under the Countdown

As dusk settled, the wind outside picked up.

Winter comes early in the north; the soil in the yard was already frozen solid, crunching underfoot. Thin wisps of white smoke rose from the neighbor's chimney, carrying the aroma of steaming grain.

Li Xing stood at the doorway and took a deep breath.

That smell made his stomach clench.

His mother was busy in the stove; the water in the pot was boiling vigorously, the lid wobbling slightly.

"Xingzi, add some firewood."

She didn't turn around.

Li Xing responded, picked up a bundle of chopped firewood, and stuffed it into the stove.

The flames leaped up instantly, illuminating the stove area red.

"Today…steam a little more," he said softly.

His mother paused.

"Steam a little more?"

She turned to look at him, her brow furrowing instinctively. "We have to be careful with the grain."

Li Xing didn't argue, but simply pushed the firewood in a little more.

The fire burned brighter.

“Tonight,” he said.

“I’m hungry.”

The words were soft.

Yet, they felt like a stone had fallen into the room.

His mother looked at him, her lips moved, but she said nothing more, only adding another handful of cornmeal to the basin.

When mixing the water and flour, her movements slowed noticeably.

As if she were struggling with herself.

The lid was put back on, and steam slowly rose.

The room gradually warmed up.

His father was awakened by a cough and sat up from the inner room.

“Is dinner ready?”

His voice was hoarse.

“Not yet,” his mother replied. “You lie down.”

Li Xing went over and raised his father’s pillow a little.

His leg was covered by a thick, old quilt, its shape unrecognizable.

“Dad,” he called out.

His father looked up at him, his eyes cloudy, but he struggled to muster a little strength.

"Your mother told me you want to go out and find work?"

He asked.

Li Xing nodded.

"Don't rush," his father coughed. "These days, it's not safe outside."

Li Xing didn't speak.

He knew his father wasn't against it, but afraid.

The pot bubbled.

His mother lifted the lid, and a burst of steam rushed out, carrying a strong aroma of corn.

For a moment, the room fell silent.

The aroma was so genuine.

It wasn't the usual watered-down, whitish smell.

It was the solid smell of grain.

His mother paused, glancing instinctively at the bowl.

"Did I...put in too much?"

She was a little uneasy.

Li Xing took the spatula.

"Perfect."

He scooped out the cornbread and placed it on an enamel plate.

One, two, three.

Thick, with golden edges.

The mother wiped her hands on her apron, as if unsure whether to sit down.

The father swallowed hard.

“Xingzi, this…”

He didn't finish his sentence.

Li Xing pushed the plate between them.

“Eat.”

“Tonight, no water.”

He paused, startled by the words.

The mother bent down, picked up a flatbread, and carefully broke it open.

Steam rose from it.

She took a bite, very gently.

After a couple of chews, she suddenly stopped.

Her eyes instantly reddened.

“…It’s a little salty.”

She turned her face away and said this.

The father didn't speak, just ate slowly.

He ate very slowly.

As if afraid that if he ate too fast, it would be gone.

The wind was still blowing outside.

Inside, however, only the sound of chewing could be heard.

Li Xing sat to the side, motionless.

Deep in his consciousness, the countdown ticked.

[21:47:12]

He knew that some of these pancakes came from that half-bag of "Shadows."

But he didn't say anything.

Some things are lighter when spoken aloud.

When the meal was finished, his mother scraped away the last crumbs and put them in her mouth.

"Tomorrow..."

She hesitated, "Can we eat like this again tomorrow?"

Li Xing looked at her.

The dim light of the bulb illuminated the fine lines at the corners of her eyes clearly.

"Yes," he said.

His mother didn't ask any more questions.

She simply nodded and turned to wash the pot.

Her back was straighter than when she arrived.

Night deepened.

His father slept soundly, his breathing easier than during the day.

Li Xing lay on the kang (heated brick bed), eyes closed, but sleep was elusive.

[20:03:59]

Time continued to tick.

He suddenly realized—this wasn't just about a meal.

This was the first time he'd changed his family's day through "copying."

And whether the world would allow him to continue doing this tomorrow, he didn't know.