Farming Life Starting in Africa

"You can rest, I'll take care of dinner." Rosen took over the kitchen.

He doesn't make any fancy dishes; he simply boils a pot of noodles in plain water and stir-fries a large plate of home-style scrambled eggs with tomatoes—a balanced meal of meat and vegetables, light and filling.

After a long day of travel, this comforting home-cooked meal was definitely more to his liking than any random Western fast food.

Just as Rosen was busy in the kitchen and the noodles in the pot were bubbling, Hannibal gathered everyone in the living room. "I just received the latest news that the Black Forest gang has been frequently conducting large, clandestine transactions at Huxley Bank in recent months."

Murdoch raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled, and asked, "The Black Forest? You mean Parker's group?"

"That's right, it's him." Hannibal's face darkened, his tone turning cold. "This bastard is the one who plotted against us and got us thrown in jail. He's been working with a mysterious old Arab man all this time, and I suspect that Arab is his final trading partner. The solar panels we're looking for are definitely in this deal; we have to take them all with us."

Murdoch, unusually serious, said, "So our goal isn't just to get the panels back? We also want to take down this Arab guy who made the deal with Parker?"

"Yes." Hannibal's eyes sharpened. "This man gives me a very strange feeling, a feeling that's very familiar. We must subdue him and interrogate him to find out the whereabouts of the remaining circuit boards. Only by recovering all the missing circuit boards can we completely clear ourselves of suspicion and get rid of this trouble."

Bosco was never one to bother with elaborate plans. "Alright, I understand. Hannibal, just give the orders. We'll follow your instructions."

Hannibal turned to Parker, who was idly fiddling with a lighter, and slowly began to assign tasks: "The operation begins tomorrow, Parker. When we move out tomorrow, you go find your ex-girlfriend. Given her abilities and personality, she's most likely already in Canada. I've received information that the CIA is also watching her and will definitely try to interfere with her operation. Go and help her out of this predicament, and while you're at it, stall for time."

Parker looked bewildered and looked up at him with a puzzled expression: "Why help her? We can get the battery without her interference, there's no need to go through all that trouble, is there?"

"Something's off about this whole thing from the beginning. I suspect that Lynch is pulling the strings behind the scenes. We can't do what they want. Your ex is a pure idealist and doesn't get along with the CIA. If we help her, we can annoy the CIA, and her connections and abilities will likely be a huge help to us later."

This is why Hannibal had so many friends—he would readily lend a helping hand whenever he could.

As the group was earnestly discussing their plan of action, Rosen walked over carrying two large bowls of steaming noodles and scrambled eggs with tomatoes. The steam and the faint aroma of the food filled the room. "Let's stop for a moment. We need to eat to have the energy to work."

Murdoch looked at the clean, white noodles in the bowl, casually picked up a strand and popped it into his mouth. After chewing a couple of times, he immediately frowned, looking puzzled: "Only a tiny bit of salt? These noodles don't taste like anything!"

Rosen casually picked up a bowl and chopsticks, filled his bowl to the brim with noodles, then scooped several large spoonfuls of brightly colored scrambled eggs with tomatoes on top, mixed it well, and handed it over as a demonstration: "Mix it before you eat, and the taste will be different."

Murdoch stared at the chopsticks in his hand, his eyes filled with curiosity and surprise: "You can actually use these two little sticks? That looks too difficult."

Rosen's fingers moved nimbly as he picked up a noodle, twirled it, and chuckled, "Practice makes perfect. You'll get the hang of it in a few more minutes. It's not difficult at all..."

Murdoch was speechless; this was like his words being thrown back at him!

The others shook their heads and waved their hands, their faces full of resistance.

They had tried using chopsticks before, but they just couldn't get the hang of it. They found forks and spoons much more convenient.

Everyone's stomachs were already growling with hunger, so they stopped worrying about the cutlery and picked up their bowls and forks. They filled their bowls with noodles, and just like Lawson, they topped them with a thick layer of tomato and egg, stirred them a few times, and started eating heartily.

The sweet and sour broth coats the chewy noodles perfectly, instantly dispelling the fatigue of the journey.

Americans have a natural preference for sweet and sour flavors, and this taste directly appeals to their palates.

Lawson deliberately didn't add too much sugar, because these foreigners have particularly bad eating habits and their daily sugar intake is already seriously excessive. The sugar content in the milk tea they drink is extremely alarming.

Murdoch slurped up the noodles with great relish, exclaiming, "I never expected it to be so delicious! Do you have any cooking secrets? Every time I cook noodles, they either get mushy or fall apart; I can never get this texture."

"It's simple. Just add cold water twice after the water boils, and the noodles won't break easily," Rosen replied casually.

Actually, his cooking skills are all from online tutorials; they're not particularly impressive, at most just clean and flavorful.

It was precisely because his cooking skills were mediocre that he was so reluctant to let Li Niu go. These days, a man who can cook delicious home-cooked meals is definitely a treasure in the team.

Bosco, eating his delicious noodles, couldn't help but complain, "Murdoch, to be honest, I don't want to eat your cooking at all anymore. There's no harm in comparing..."

After a simple home-cooked dinner, everyone felt refreshed and relaxed. After wiping their mouths and resting, they got back to the main topic.

Hannibal continued to methodically assign tasks, "Murdoch, I'll arrange for a helicopter to be in position beforehand. Once the man is captured, you'll be responsible for evacuating this Arab."

"Bosco, you infiltrate the high-rise building across from the bank beforehand and take up a high vantage point. Once the operation begins, you'll be responsible for breaking through windows, providing cover fire, and cooperating with me to storm the target room."

After saying that, he turned to Rosen and said, "Ethan, your task is the simplest and most crucial. Find a good car that accelerates quickly and has a stable range, and park it downstairs at Huxley Bank in advance. You will be in charge of our ground evacuation."

Rosen grinned immediately, saying confidently, "Haha, I'm a pro at this! Driving is my specialty; no one has been able to catch me in all these years."

Why would I chase you? To rush up and eat your triangular nail or your steel coil?

Looking at his arrogant and confident demeanor, everyone silently began to have doubts. Was his driving skill really as amazing as he claimed? Or was he just exaggerating?