For five consecutive days, there was heavy rain, and the weather forecast issued a typhoon warning.

Yu Xifeng stayed at home cooking.

Braised pork ribs, grilled steak, braised pork with potatoes, pickled fish slices, lemon chicken feet.

These were all dishes that required serious skill.

Like marinated dishes, these dishes had a strong, rich aroma.

Even with the fresh air system running, the overwhelming fragrance still spread far through the air.

In a few days, these kinds of dishes could no longer be made.

Yu Xifeng treasured the time.

At first, when cooking rice, Yu Xifeng tried adding some sweet potatoes and beans into it, and it tasted pretty good.

Then she tried cooking marinated fatty beef together with the rice; the rice absorbed all the rich sauce, and every bite was full of meaty aroma.

So Yu Xifeng started focusing on cooking steamed rice dishes.

One big pot of fatty beef topping was enough for ten pots of steamed rice.

Following online tutorials, she gradually made shrimp paste steamed rice, Kung Pao chicken steamed rice, and tofu minced meat steamed rice.

The tofu minced meat version tasted especially good.

Soft, white tofu wrapped in richly flavored meat sauce mixed with rice—salty and fragrant.

Yu Xifeng ate two big bowls of it as a late-night snack.

After letting the broth cool a bit, she poured it into plastic buckets.

The marinated dishes were packed in plastic bowls, and stir-fried dishes were portioned into takeaway boxes.

The space was filled with various food items; next to the desserts, Yu Xifeng cleared out a dedicated cooked food area.

Immersed in this, watching the cooked food in the space gradually increase bit by bit, her anxiety slowly eased.

Late at night, her cooking made people hungry and craving; someone asked in the neighborhood group chat:

“Is there a restaurant opening in our community? The smell is so good.”

“I’m drooling just from the smell, want to order.”

“Fried chicken delivery suddenly doesn’t seem as tasty anymore.”

“When will the rain stop? Anyone want to group order rain boots with me?”

“Me, me, me—I don’t even have shoes to change into, my shoes are soaked by the time I get to work, this is ridiculous.”

“I smell braised pork and beef. Is someone having a barbecue on the rooftop? The smell is amazing.”

“I’m on a diet, don’t tempt me!”

“Are you selling? I’ll pay 50.”

“I’ll pay 100.”

The phone kept buzzing nonstop, but Yu Xifeng glanced at it without replying.

There was indeed a lunchbox business in the neighborhood; upon hearing this, the owner promoted their boxed meals in the group.

Everyone thought the delicious smell was from the restaurant, so they started placing orders.

No one noticed Yu Xifeng, and she was quite happy about that.

A couple more days passed, and the typhoon officially landed, named Aphu.

The government issued announcements.

Affected provinces reduced activities, and enterprises suspended operations.

The city grew silent amid the continuous rain, with unprecedentedly heavy downpours pouring down like buckets.

Yu Xifeng went downstairs to check on the community and hallway conditions.

She also checked the rising water levels.

No one could go out in such heavy rain; the first floor’s game room was more lively than usual.

When the elevator doors opened, a thick smell of smoke hit the nose.

More people had returned home.

Umbrellas couldn’t block this heavy rain; many people’s shoulders and pants were soaked through.

Yu Xifeng wore a raincoat and rain boots, stepping carefully as she walked throughout the neighborhood.

Cocoa Yajun was already a relatively high-elevation area, yet even here there was water accumulation.

Other parts of the city were likely already suffering disasters.

She needed to confirm whether the course of this disaster in this life was the same as before.

And whether there would be new changes.

Among many drenched neighbors, with shoes wrung out dripping water, Yu Xifeng took off her raincoat under the eaves.

Though she wore the raincoat, the air was heavy with dampness and still dampened her a bit.

She had bought ten sets of these full raincoats, all neatly stacked in her space.

Aunt Liu eyed the raincoat in Yu Xifeng’s hands: “That’s not cheap, is it? Young people these days just love to waste money. How many days can this rain last? When the rain stops, those clothes will be useless.”

Her grandson glared fiercely at Yu Xifeng from her arms.

Yu Xifeng ignored them, folding the raincoat carefully.

Aunt Liu found no interest and started chatting with Mrs. Yu nearby.

“Sister Yu, your son and daughter-in-law are back, did they go buy groceries?”

Mrs. Yu nodded, “Yes, they work hard at their jobs. Usually, they eat takeout, so we have to make sure they get proper nutrition. The vegetables are really expensive today—chili peppers have gone up to 15 yuan per jin.”

Aunt Liu was shocked: “How did it get so expensive? I bought them for just over one yuan a few days ago.”

Someone in the game room responded, “This rain is really depressing.”

“Going out means getting clothes and shoes soaked. The weather’s damp, and clothes don’t dry after washing. Coming back home smells sour.”

“We’re lucky here. My younger brother in my hometown has water up to his chest. Their house might be flooded.”

Mahjong tiles clicked as they were shuffled.

Ma Tian, also a resident in this building, had just won and cheerfully collected money from the other three players.

“Typhoon days, just a few days like this.”

Back home, Yu Xifeng scrolled through her phone; seven out of the top ten trending topics were about holidays.

Official calls for people to stockpile food were buried at the bottom.

Starting tomorrow afternoon, all industries in Lincheng would have a three-day holiday.

Many were happy about the typhoon because it meant paid leave, and some proudly showed off company benefits on social media.

Some complained about postponed tasks but began to enjoy the break.

Students cheered for their canceled classes.

For many, this was a rare holiday.

And it would be the last holiday.

Yu Xifeng put away her phone and turned on the stove, putting washed potatoes and eggs into the marinade pot.

For dinner, she had a portion of fatty beef steamed rice and a braised potato.

That night, Yu Xifeng went all out, cooking through the night.

She made 40 portions of steamed rice, 150 braised potatoes, 87 braised eggs, and steamed 106 glutinous rice dumplings to go with the marinated dishes.

Ten pots of potato braised pork, over five pounds of black pepper chicken pieces, and 30 grilled sausages.

It was exhausting work for Yu Xifeng.

After dawn, someone said in the group chat they dreamed of having a Manchu Han Imperial Feast.

Yu Xifeng stored the marinade sauces in her space.

Because the marinated dishes had strong flavors, after cooking all night, she wouldn’t make them again for a while.

After tidying the kitchen, she went to sleep.

She slept until 1 PM.

The heavy rain continued, and the wind outside grew stronger.

Lying in bed, Yu Xifeng saw news on trending topics.

The subway was forced to stop; one-third of passengers on Line 5 of Lincheng couldn’t escape their carriages, resulting in a major disaster.

Reporters said they would continue to follow up.

Subway lines were under urgent repair and closed to the public.

City transportation was paralyzed.

Yu Xifeng was not surprised; she checked the online weather trends and put away her phone.

She went to the gym and worked out for two hours, sweating heavily.

After wiping off sweat and showering, she noticed the fresh air system had been running all night, and the strong food aroma had mostly dissipated.

When checking the community, she avoided taking the elevator for fear of accidents and used the stairs instead.

It had been raining for over half a month, and many people had hung their laundry in the corridors to dry.

Even the stairwells reeked of damp, sour odors from drying clothes.

Yu Xifeng didn’t force herself and put on a mask.

The lower she went, the damper it became.

The moist air clung to her body, almost solidifying.

Water had flooded up to the first floor counter; the game room owner was helplessly scooping water outside with a ladle, but with little effect.

The legs of the mahjong tables were soaked, covered in a ring of mold.

Because of the bad weather, many gathered on the first-floor steps.

Aunt Liu, gleeful at others’ misfortune, cracked sunflower seeds while pointing and chatting.

“Boss, your business can’t last, huh? When I bought my house, I had someone check the feng shui. The first floor here isn’t good.”

The boss, a divorced widow with some charm, was called Sister Yun by others.

She was moving tables and chairs outside, and upon hearing Aunt Liu’s remark, she slammed a chair down heavily.

“Nonsense! You come here every day stealing sunflower seeds and candy. I don’t bother with you, but now you’re getting cocky.”