Farming Life Starting in Africa

For example, canned noodles are a mushy, murky mess, resembling swill in appearance, and look exactly like the digestive waste someone vomits after drinking too much beer.

There are also canned eggs with ridiculously high elasticity; the yolks are so firm and elastic you could use them to play table tennis. The technology and high-tech ingredients inside are simply incredible. If a person were left in the wild with this can of eggs, the body would weather to the point of being skeletonized, while the eggs would at most just dry out.

The most outrageous of all has to be canned beans. They're a sticky, gooey mess with an extremely bizarre appearance, perfectly replicating the product of someone who's been raving about beans all day, going through a whole day of digestion and then getting an upset stomach at night.

It's no wonder that you rarely see these bizarre items in China; after all, it's no exaggeration to say that Chinese food is among the best in the world.

Most canned goods available in China fall into three categories: refreshing and palate-cleansing canned yellow peaches, delicious canned dace with fermented black beans, and filling eight-treasure porridge. Each one is normal and tasty. Other canned goods on the shelves only satisfy the perverse desires of those with a sense of novelty.

American food culture is all about being careless and haphazard, while the white food of neighboring Britain is even more heavyweight, a top-notch tool for human beings to torture each other, with the main goal of just surviving. As for the taste? Elizabethan descendants don't care about taste; as long as they can live, that's enough.

Just then, the old television in the living room crackled, its screen looping news reports about Swagger's wanted status. Rosen watched with fascination, "Is your marksmanship really that bad? How could you miss so far at a distance of over 600 meters?"

These words immediately made Swagger's face darken, and his tone was filled with suppressed resentment: "I was framed, I wasn't the one who fired the shot at all."

"Ha~ That's the government's old trick. Who are you taking the blame for?"

Swagger shook his head. "I don't know. A guy named Isaac Jensen recruited me. He said there were assassins trying to kill the president while he was giving a speech in the street."

Rosen tilted his head and looked at Swagger. "So you agreed to be his assassin?"

Sarah immediately said with some dissatisfaction, "Swag didn't want this either; he was being used."

Rosen looked at the two men with a somewhat malicious smile. "Alright, Swagger, what are your plans for the future?"

The television screen shifted to the rookie FBI agent he had easily subdued. A reporter was interviewing the unfortunate fellow, asking him a lot of embarrassing questions.

Swagger stared at the screen, his expression turning serious. "I think I need to find this new guy. He could probably be a great help."

Rosen was speechless at Swage's outlandish suggestion. Where did the Americans' brains go? He was in a hurry and needed an answer online.

Is a fugitive seeking help from a rookie FBI agent hoping that the newbie will provide him with a decent cell while he's in jail?

In the original movie, these characters all had protagonist-level advantages, which allowed them to uncover the truth through so many coincidences. Rosen didn't really believe in plot inertia, and besides, it was too much of a waste of time.

He slowly finished the last bite of his food, put down his spoon, leaned back in his chair with a calm expression: "Actually, you don't need to rush around. Just stay here obediently, and the clues will most likely come to you on their own."

Swag froze, his face full of confusion: "What do you mean?"

Rosen pointed to Sarah beside him: "She's one of your few connections. That Isaac Jensen guy is way smarter than the police. Following your network, it's only a matter of time before they find this place. They'll definitely come knocking on our door before the police do."

Swagger thought about it and realized that made sense. He turned to Sarah, his eyes filled with guilt, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Sarah. I never expected that this unwarranted disaster would drag you into it."

Sarah, remarkably open-minded, gently shook her head. "From the moment I decided to take you in, I was prepared for trouble. I knew this day would come. I believe in you, Swagger. You'll definitely be able to find those hiding behind the scenes, right?"

Swag nodded solemnly, then turned to Rosen, his tone serious: "I need a batch of weapons."

Sarah was about to speak up and tell Swagger that the house still contained the guns Donnie had left behind, but since he had brought helpers, he must have been prepared.

"I can give you the weapon. But I have to ask you this: even if you're lucky enough to find the mastermind, then what? The person who can mobilize so many government departments to set a trap for you is definitely a top-level bigwig. When you actually face him, what can you do? Kill him?"

Upon hearing this, Swagger fell silent. If he dared to kill a senator, even the rats in his house would probably be implicated.

Suddenly, the television news broadcast Swagger's story again, saying that before he could carry out the assassination, he shot and killed his dog, Ralph.

Swagger was furious upon seeing the news. With red eyes, he said, "Its name is Sam, not Ralph. It's a good dog. I raised it from a puppy."

Rosen was speechless. What was wrong with these Americans? They wouldn't even spare a dog. You know, when you encounter someone who owns a dog, it's best not to touch their dog, or you'll be in big trouble.

Swagger took a long time to finish before saying, "I need to find the person behind this, and that son of a bitch named Isaac Jensen. They'll pay for it."

Rosen shook his head helplessly; he was very skeptical that Swagger could take revenge on his own.

In the original storyline, Swagger ultimately gambled his life, reputation, and honor on a federal hearing at the U.S. Department of Justice, which was incredibly naive.

With just a flick of the senator's finger or a simple gesture, he could shut down all of Swagger's chances of defense and easily seal his fate without even having to be there in person.

However, he was too lazy to offer much advice; everyone has to break free from their own stubbornness.

Rosen had his own plans. That old fox senator was a very valuable person, and he couldn't die yet. At least until he obediently talked to him, he still had some use.

Rosen wanted to sit at the table, and this old man was an opportunity. Only those who were disobedient and uncooperative needed to be eliminated.

The following morning, Rosen set up a silent infrared alarm system around Sarah's house. Swagger would receive an immediate alert should anyone attempt to sneak in or approach the cabin, giving him the upper hand.

After completing all the security arrangements, Rosen helped Swagger pick out a few handy firearms and arranged for him to lie low and recuperate in an abandoned wooden shed on the high ground near Sarah's house.