Farming Life Starting in Africa

The group chatted casually, and the atmosphere wasn't too awkward. Only Patrick sat on a stool in the corner, his eyes fixed on the time on his phone, eagerly waiting for dinner to be served.

"Ding—" The phone alarm went off.

Rosen stood up from the sofa, walked to the pressure cooker, and pulled the pressure relief valve—"Hiss—" A burst of white steam shot out, instantly filling the entire room with a rich aroma of meat.

Several people in the room swallowed hard, their voices rising and falling, even Zhuo Yifan couldn't help but drool. Although he was still angry, the smell was just too damn delicious. And it was already mealtime, his stomach was telling him more than his mouth.

Once the steam had mostly dissipated, Lawson lifted the lid, and the aroma was even more intense. The broth was still bubbling away, the tomatoes were completely mushy and dissolved into a bright red pot of soup, the potatoes had turned into mashed potatoes, and the beef brisket was so tender that you could easily pierce it with chopsticks.

"Alright," Rosen said without turning his head, "Patrick, go get the rice."

"Okay, boss!" Patrick jumped up from his stool.

Rosen distributed the food to the group. Zhuo Weixi held her bowl, looked down at it, then looked up at Rosen, speechless.

This was a nine-inch large bowl, almost three times the size of her usual bowl. The bowl was overflowing with rice, topped with a thick layer of beef and potatoes, the broth practically spilling out. This bowl would last her two or three days.

She glanced at Patrick's bowl again—it could no longer be called a bowl, it was more like a basin, with a thick layer of rice inside and a whole spoonful of beef poured on top, the broth seeping down the rice, looking very appetizing.

Rosen, seeing Zhuo Weixi looking somewhat dazed, teased, "What's wrong? Not enough to eat?"

"No way," Zhuo Weixi quickly shook her head, "You'd be stuffed to death if you ate all of that."

"It's alright," Rosen picked up his bowl, grabbed a large piece of beef with his chopsticks, and stuffed it into his mouth, mumbling, "If you can't finish it, just leave it there. We don't waste food at home. Patrick, right?"

Patrick had already buried his face in the basin. Hearing this, he raised his head, nodded vigorously, and then lowered his head again to continue working hard.

When Rosen recruited him, he promised to provide room and board, which made Patrick very happy. Later, Rosen found out that this black guy had never had enough to eat growing up. He had seven or eight siblings, and they had to fight for food. If they couldn't win, they would go hungry.

The group consisted of young people, and they quickly became engaged in a lively conversation.

After finishing their meal, the group lay down on the sofa, their bellies full and they didn't want to move at all.

Zhuo Weixi had a single sofa all to herself, nestled inside playing on her phone, her two thumbs rapidly tapping the screen, seemingly texting someone, occasionally letting out a smile.

Zhuo Yifan slumped on the sofa, his hand resting on his stomach, his eyes half-open and half-closed. Patrick was tidying up the table by himself, stacking up the bowls and chopsticks and carrying them to the kitchen. His back looked satisfied, as if he had just finished his New Year's Eve dinner.

"Patrick," Rosen called out with his eyes half-closed, "go load the camper van from the gun room into the truck bed."

"Okay, boss!"

Actually, Rosen was incredibly sleepy at this point. He was really prone to feeling dizzy after a meal, and on top of that, he hadn't slept all night, so his eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

"Where are you going this afternoon?" Zhuo Yifan's voice drifted over from the side.

Rosen squinted and dozed off. "North...it borders the Republic of Ivia...what?"

"I'll go with you this afternoon!"

Rosen opened his eyes and glanced at him sideways. "If you have nothing better to do, go dig a hole for me in the yard."

"What?" Zhuo Yifan looked bewildered.

"Nothing much," Rosen closed his eyes again. "Remember to fill it back in after you're done digging. It'll be good exercise, and you can loosen up the soil in the yard while you're at it."

Zhuo Yifan was so angry that his nose was crooked. Looking at Luo Sen, who had his eyes closed, he also shut his mouth, his face as long as a donkey's.

Rosen, not hearing Zhuo Yifan respond, said lazily, "Hey, settle the car payment."

"Huh?" Zhuo Yifan didn't react.

"Transfer the money for that Hummer to me," Rosen said, emphasizing each word.

"Oh, oh!" Zhuo Yifan suddenly remembered and quickly pulled out his phone. "Three hundred thousand? Where's the machine gun?"

Rosen beckoned to him with his eyes closed, and Zhuo Yifan obediently moved closer. Rosen lowered his voice and said, "I'll give it to you next time you come over. You took it home today—aren't you afraid your sister will tell your family?"

Zhuo Yifan glanced subconsciously at Zhuo Weixi, who was playing on her phone at the other end of the sofa, and lowered his voice as well: "I earned all this money myself, I can spend it however I want."

His family has always been a traditional, patriarchal Chinese family. He was a very unruly child and grew up under the strict discipline of his grandfather. He still feels guilty at the thought of being reported to his parents.

"You really can't take me this afternoon?" He hesitated one last time.

Rosen threatened him, "Where are you going? My business is dangerous; aren't you afraid something might happen to you?"

Actually, he was going to deliver the bulletproof vest to Lao Zhou that afternoon, but with outsiders present, there were some things he couldn't say in person. Besides, things weren't very peaceful around the border lately, and if something happened to him with a child in tow, who would be responsible?

"Okay." This time, Zhuo Yifan didn't press the matter further. He picked up his phone, tapped a few times, and transferred $300,000 to Rosen's account.

After receiving the money, Rosen became excited and was no longer sleepy at all.

"Alright, you guys have fun, I'm going out to deliver goods."

Meanwhile, on the border of the Republic of Ivia, in a village right next to an oil pipeline, a tragedy is unfolding.

A mercenary squad hired by Dane Military Resources Ltd. surrounded the small village. More than four hundred people in the village, regardless of age or gender, were herded into a large pit they had dug themselves and slaughtered.

Seeing the large pit of corpses and the spreading flames, some mercenaries took photos as proof that the mission was completed.

On a high ground beside a highway less than 20 kilometers from the village, two white soldiers in ghillie suits were lying on the cliff, watching two shepherds grazing their sheep by the river with binoculars.

"How do we retreat?"

Donnie chewed on a piece of hard beef jerky and mumbled, "Our first choice is definitely an air pick-up, and the second is to take this highway back. If all else fails, we'll have to go by water. Actually, water is the safest way; apart from fish, no one can track us."

After saying that, he pulled a photo from behind his ballistics notebook and waved it in front of his companion. The photo showed a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a white low-cut dress, smiling brightly at the camera.

"Sarah is going to nursing school next month. Look at her clothes, she made them all herself."

The companion next to him glanced at the photo and said perfunctorily, "Hmm, it's beautiful." Then he put his eyes back on the scope.