Mosilaire carried the peanut into the barn, rekindled the extinguished bonfire, and flipped the bulging bag over, leaving its contents on the floor.

The large pile of good things laid out in front of her gave her a sense of accomplishment, and told her to move a lot more quickly when she counted her supplies.

She placed the packaged food on her left-hand side, the various parts on the right-hand side, and the medical supplies all carefully placed in the important center.

As it turned out, these abundant supplies were worth the risk of Mosilare's life.

During this adventure, she obtained a total of 41 servings of survival food in standard packaging, about 13 small parts, 2 boxes of standard medical kits, some tranquilizers, analgesics, and a few electrical tapes.

There's also a "Supernova" high-voltage pulse stun gun, a reinforced stun gun designed to render large animals incapacitated and aggressive without harming them, even for difficult mechs. - Although this barren planet may not be visited by the autochnoid at all.

Finally, she brought back a small bottle of chocolate sauce, a few high-calorie energy bars, more than 200 grams of iodized salt in a paper bag, and several plates of multivitamins.

Mosilaire let out a long breath, and the pounding heart slowly calmed down.

She's glad that nothing happened on this adventure - like getting lost in the endless snow or being swallowed by zombies surrounded by them.

She took the peanut lying on the edge of the campfire to her lap and began to examine it.

Peanuts that may not have eaten for a few days have lost a lot of weight at this time, and their hair is messy and dull and yellow. Mosilaire, who examined its bones, barely touched any plump muscle or fat tissue from its body, as if all that was left under the peanut fur was a few hard bones.

Mosilair stroked the poor little peanut in distress, but the peanut didn't make much of a fuss, but looked at her with bright eyes, and meowed lowly while playfully scraping Mosilare's cheek with its soft tail.

Fortunately, peanuts are not too problematic other than a fracture of the left hind limb and some tissue necrosis due to prolonged blood flow - although these problems are not trivial.

Even if its hind limbs healed, it would have been crippled, so it wouldn't have been as healthy and agile as it had been before – but Peanut was able to survive.

Between death and disability, Mosilere believes that the bright peanut must already have an answer in his heart.

Mosilaire opened a medical kit and used the medical disinfectant alcohol inside to disinfect the wounds on Peanut's body—it was obviously painful, as its tail would suddenly stiffen whenever she poured alcohol on Peanut's wound.

Mosilaire used the needle and thread in the medical kit to close a large open wound in Peanut's abdomen, then bandaged it with a clean, sterile bandage, tied a large, beautiful bow on it, and removed two splints to fix Peanut's fractured left leg.

Eventually, she cleaned and dressed her previous wound and took two tablets of aspirin and amoxicillin.

Maybe it's psychological, but she does feel much more comfortable.

After all these troublesome things, Mosilel finally realized that his stomach was rumbling—or that he had already growled, but Mosilele, who was so engrossed, ignored all of this.

Mosilaire stretched, pulled out one of the packets from a stack of neatly stacked, beautifully polished thick, packaged survival foods, and tossed it into the pot to heat up.

Mosilele was hungry, and so were Peanuts.

Mosilaire leaned back on her sleek mat, Peanut slipped into her arms, and the two of them sat around the campfire and waited quietly for the delicious food to be cooked.

The net content of an imperial standard safe packaged food is about 400±50g, and the specific weight depends on whether and how black the colony that made it - of course, there are still hard standards for the energy, protein, fat, salt, minerals, etc. provided by each packaged survival food, if a certain indicator is not met, the food prosecutor will throw your packaged survival food in your face, and you will only have two options left: digest them internally, Or simply sell it on the black market at a low price.

If you source packaged survival food from a conscientious colony, you might get a delicious and hearty meal when you open it, but if you get a black heart, you'll have to eat a few compressed biscuits, a small box of artificial nutrient solution, and a little bit of cottage cheese.

Incredibly, at one point in the Empire's most difficult time against the AI's extinction purge, the chaotic trading market was once flowing through some packaged foods of unknown origin.

About, she said about—a few colonies that have broken the moral bottom line seem to be sneaking into these low-priced packaged survival foods with disgusting, horrible human flesh—human flesh!

While these foolish colonies will soon be wiped out by the Empire with the harshest military means – very quickly – there is still a great deal of mad black-hearted perverts in the ungoverned or weakly governed fringes.

The unfortunate ones who are unfortunate enough to eat human flesh and learn the truth often collapse, and the few who remain are infected with horrible fetishes.

And Mosilaire had always been procured from his old friend Vane, who had always been very nice to her. When she used a knife to cut open the packaged survival food, she got a ball of fragrant, soft and glutinous salt-and-pepper mashed potatoes compressed in a vacuum bag, two fat pan-fried bacon, a Harbin red sausage, four candied yellow peaches, and a little tomato beef soup in an edible plastic strip.

Mosilaire placed some mashed potatoes, a piece of bacon, and half a red sausage in front of Little Peanut before she began to feast on a meal big enough to make her tongue swallow when she was tormented.

The hot mashed potatoes are sweet and sticky, the burnt bacon is thick and juicy, and the colorful Harbin red sausage is even more fragrant, and you can even feel the thick and spicy gravy splashing in her mouth when you bite into it.

She never imagined that the food she had once disdained could be so delicious – she burst into tears.

And the soft sobs quickly turned into howls, and she suddenly didn't care if her cries would attract zombies or other terrible carnivores.

What blizzards, what cold, what damn pain, she left all in her mind, and at this time she just wanted to cry, cry recklessly, and cry desperately.

She is still alone here, and she does not see the light of the future for a while.

But our Miss Mosilaire did not cry for long, and soon she stopped all her sorrow and tears—she wanted to be sharpened stronger by suffering, and not easily struck down by suffering.

What's more, she now has a fluffy little companion to talk to, doesn't she?

Mosilaire was out at seven o'clock in the morning, and it took more than three hours to venture back and forth, and when it came to handling supplies, eating, and resting, Mosilaire had an entire afternoon to work.

Little Peanut fell asleep on a mat after he had eaten his fill, and Mosilaire put on his thick clothes again and went out to inspect the base's electrical infrastructure.

The wind and snow outside are still very strong, and the buildings in the skyless dome without light can have a hazy beauty because of this. - The open space at the entrance was a little empty, and the wind-turbines that stood in the darkness not far away looked like a silent steel forest.

And she, she is the only one who walks alone in the black fog.

It's a pity that only one of the layers of wind turbines, which have basically been destroyed, is relatively well preserved, but the rusty shell has long been covered with heavy frost and time.

Mosilare locked up the small wind turbine that stood stubbornly in the snow, and then climbed up to remove some of the ice ballast that had frozen on the blades.

The deformed blades needed to be removed and repaired, but she had first added some lube to the dry oil storage system—the sticky lube she had found in the tool room that stood in the corner of the first protective wall outside the main body of the base.

In addition to this, there are some useful tools and widgets for maintaining the facilities of the base. - She will probably have to rely on them for everything in the future, otherwise it will be difficult to tighten the screws on the iron shell with only flesh and blood hands.

It's just that because the temperature outside is very low, Mosilaire needs to return to the base every hour or so to bake the fire and recover her low body temperature.

Her progress was so slow, but she was able to finish the old creature by dinner.

The exhaled white vapor disappeared in the dust and snow of the north wind, and for the first time, Mosilaire, sitting on top of the wind turbine, was able to stop the wrench and hammer in his hand and calmly admire all that was chaotic and dark.

The small wind turbine wasn't very tall, but it was enough to give her a glimpse of the site's former glory. The main complex of the base was prostrate at her feet not far away, and the outbuildings she didn't know what they were scattered like spilled candy dotted into the 2-kilometer-long stone wall.

Maybe it's not that bad here, as long as she lives with her heart, the fluffy snow will surely turn into a flourishing field of blue ink flowers with butterflies.

It's hers now.

At about ten o'clock in the evening, Mosilaire screwed the last screw on the barn's high-power heater, and with some trepidation, connected the wire.

The campfire had gone out an hour earlier - only because she had no extra wood to keep warm, and if Mosilaire's plan didn't work out, she would probably have to spend a difficult night with Little Peanut in the freezing temperatures.

Crackling, stinging!

The flickering electric sparks startled Mosilaire, but at least it showed that the power transmission lines of the substation and the main body of the base were not faulty, which were the most worrying and difficult problems she had at first

— and she soon became ecstatic, for a soft orange glow lit up on the heater's heating tab, and gave vitality to Mosilere's pale little face under the white light of the bracelet!

And the soft light that conducts on Mosile's skin is naturally a lot of comfortable heat that makes you faint.

Her cold and numb hands suddenly felt a warmth that she hadn't felt for a long time,—— which was a heat that could not be blocked by thick gloves.

It's amazing and wonderful to bring things to life – even if it's just a non-smiling machine, it can really improve Mosilele's living conditions.

The area of the barn is not too large, although it is only more than 80 square meters, but the heater installed in the barn is also special, and the power is about 1000W. — or 2000w, Mosilaire guessed it all.

The abundant heat quickly filled the barn and stabilized the indoor temperature at around 21°C.

It's been a long time since Mosilaire has experienced such warmth, especially after the campfire has gone out. The little peanut in her arms gradually stopped shivering and began to snort slightly and well.

Mosilaire kissed the little fool on the head, then took off her thick coat for the first time since the ship crashed.

It was finally draped over her injured body, and she fell asleep with the little peanut on a warm cushion.