# Chapter 9: The Man Who Sells Weapons
To accommodate people's schedules, even the power schedule was changed to nighttime—from 8 PM to midnight.
Water was available from 4 AM to 6 AM, and 6 PM to 8 PM.
Sophia's waking time aligned perfectly. She could shower right away and then start preparing dinner.
People had gotten used to nocturnal living and night-time shopping, but practically no restaurants were open.
It wasn't that nobody wanted to open one. Rather, with the extreme heat and no electricity, various ingredients simply couldn't be stored.
Especially meat.
In this weather, without refrigeration, fresh meat would spoil in under two hours.
Who would dare open a restaurant in this situation?
Heaven forbid someone got food poisoning. You'd have to pay their medical bills. It would be adding insult to injury on top of an already difficult situation.
Sophia had solar panels. Her home appliances could run. So she could eat meat openly and honestly.
In fact, her refrigerator had been unplugged for a while. Everything inside had been moved to her space.
A space was the best safe. Why bother wasting electricity on a refrigerator?
Though the refrigerator was off, the ice machines were still running.
Sophia still made plenty of ice every day. After all, three evaporative air coolers consumed quite a bit of ice daily.
When Sophia occasionally made shaved ice, snow cones, or ice cream, she would plug in the freezer briefly.
But today, Sophia didn't plan to make cold drinks. She was going to stew meat instead.
The more things deteriorated, the fewer opportunities she'd have to openly cook meat.
Sophia decided to make as much as she could while she still could.
Premium pork belly, cut into chunks, first blanched in boiling water to remove blood and scum, then drained.
The blanched pork belly went into a pressure cooker. Light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, cooking wine, rock sugar, and salt were added.
Then: scallions, ginger, garlic, star anise, Sichuan peppercorns, cinnamon, bay leaves, and fennel.
Finally, water enough to cover the meat.
The lid was closed, brought to a boil, then simmered on low heat.
Sophia had specifically bought the largest home-use pots. Each batch could stew dozens of pounds of pork belly.
Since pork belly flavors were strong, Sophia also stewed a pot of beef, a pot of yam and rib soup, and a pot of corn and rib soup simultaneously.
Sophia owned many pots, many propane tanks, and many portable stoves. Simultaneous cooking didn't waste any time.
However, this meant Sophia's apartment was filled with all sorts of meat aromas.
Even with windows and doors tightly closed, the scent drifted outside.
Soon, Sophia saw someone in the community chat ask who was cooking meat.
But nobody answered.
A month ago, eating meat was perfectly ordinary.
But now, eating meat was hard enough—and people didn't want others to know, for fear of drawing attention and bringing trouble.
Two hours later, all the meat was cooked.
Sophia set aside some braised pork and a bowl of yam rib soup. Everything else went into her space, stored on the shelves.
After over a month of Sophia's unremitting efforts, the ten shelves she'd originally reserved for her own cooked meals were already seven full.
Sophia took out a small bowl of rice and a bowl of stir-fried water spinach.
On the floor of the bedroom, Sophia had spread a large tatami mat.
On top of it, she'd placed a small round table. Every day for meals, Sophia sat here.
Right now, the table held: a small bowl of braised pork, a bowl of yam rib soup, a bowl of stir-fried water spinach, and a small bowl of rice.
Sophia wasn't in a rush to eat. She also took out her tablet, opened her favorite sitcom, and continued from where she'd left off.
She'd watched this sitcom so many times she could recite the lines.
But Sophia still considered it the perfect show to watch while eating.
Hearing the lively chatter on screen, Sophia felt that eating alone wasn't lonely at all.
After dinner, clearing the dishes, Sophia changed into a tank top and shorts, put on her sneakers, and headed out.
This time, Sophia had nothing specific to buy. So instead of driving, she walked slowly outside.
Walking along, she noticed some activity ahead.
When she got closer, she saw someone had set up a street stall.
A blanket was spread on the ground, with luxury handbags laid out.
The sellers were two young women, vigorously promoting their wares, insisting all their bags were authentic and they were having a liquidation sale.
They explained that their company had shut down, no idea when they'd resume work. With no income, they couldn't even afford food.
Hearing their story, Sophia sighed.
She knew many women loved designer bags.
There was even a saying: a bag cures all ailments.
Skip meals if you must, but you must buy the bag.
Sophia didn't care for luxury bags. She prioritized practicality.
After being reborn, she'd bought some bags too—but all were hiking backpacks or tactical packs, sturdy and durable.
Watching for a while, Sophia turned to leave.
These bags were useless to her. Even with money to burn, she wasn't going to buy them now.
That would only make her look like an easy mark with money to burn. Nothing good would come of it.
Sophia left this area and walked on. She soon saw a few more stalls.
The vendors were male and female, old and young.
What they sold was mostly impractical stuff: luxury bags, designer jewelry, branded clothes, shoes, limited-edition figures, models.
Variety was rich, styles were diverse. Sophia watched in amazement.
Finally, when she reached a quieter corner, Sophia saw something that caught her interest.
The stall's goods were few—all kinds of blades and weapons.
Long knives, short blades, even triangular daggers—rare items.
This was clearly a cold weapons enthusiast.
Curious, Sophia glanced at the vendor sitting in the corner.
Every other stall was set up under streetlights. Only his was positioned far from any light source.
By the dim glow of distant streetlights, Sophia could make out a handsome man.
Weak light fell on his side profile—his straight nose, his sharp jawline.
His eyes were narrow and elegant, his lips full and shapely.
His mouth was slightly pressed, brow furrowed, as if troubled.
Looking at his slow business, Sophia guessed what he was troubled about.
No customers. Of course he was worried!
Life was harder than a month ago, but order still held. No major incidents had occurred.
People struggling financially wanted to sell their things for cash. Who would want to buy cold weapons?
Sophia crouched down and casually picked up a dagger. The moment the blade slid from its sheath, she was stunned.
Blinding gleam, sharp as thunder.
Sophia immediately sheathed the dagger and looked at the man. "Selling something this good?"