While Winnie sat on her mat and enjoyed what was probably the most delicious sweet she had ever tasted in her life, Mosilele had already removed the inedible moldy parts of the flour.

Nearly three-quarters of a two-pound bag of flour had been completely soaked in snow, so they could only get more than half a pound of fine flour in the end—a pity, but Mosilaire felt that the flour should be enough for a special meal.

While Winnie was still savoring the sweetness in her mouth, Mosilaire leaned quietly into her ear and said something mysteriously.

Winnie's eyes lit up, and she seemed to hear something unremarkable, but they needed to do more with the unshed ducks before they could get into this mysterious project.

Because the base's water supply system was still in a damaged state, Mosilele had to sneak out to a deep well outside the base to fetch water, which was covered with a sheet of iron that was only lifted when she was fetching water, to prevent some fool with little eyes from falling into the well.

She really didn't want to catch a rancid, blistered zombie while fetching the water - and the horrible, swollen corpse would most likely move playfully a few times, baring a mouth full of black teeth at her hippie smile in the golden sunlight.

If that happens, she guesses she'll vomit up all the food she's eaten that day and have nightmares for months.

After fetching back a few buckets of water, Mosilaire began boiling water and flour in the kitchen. Most of the duck's fur is scalded off by boiling water, but the fine hairs that are still clinging to the flesh have to be carefully plucked off by Winnie's hands.

Plucking duck feathers is a boring and extremely patient challenge, especially for a lively child like Winnie - but these small challenges are obviously not worth mentioning in the face of the mysterious food that Mosilaire promised that she had never eaten.

While Winnie was still plucking the duck, Mosilaire began to roll out the many pieces of dough that were scattered around her hand into fist-sized sheets of dough with a stick she had picked up while fetching water.

The poor duck was plucked naked by Winnie, and when she had finished her preparations, Mosilaire removed the meat from the skeleton piece by piece with a thin blade made of iron sheets.

The lean flesh, which still had a small amount of fat attached to it, was collected by her and placed on the cutting board beside her, and the excess fat was scraped off for other purposes.

Lacking a large knife for chopping the minced meat, Mosilaire chose a washed stone to complete the process of making the minced meat.

Even peanuts, which had always been lazy and lazy, were attracted to it, and lay on the stove with Winnie and watched Mosilele repeat the action of lifting and smashing the stones—but the latter was out of curiosity, and the former was simply thinking about finding a time to eat all the duck meat in his stomach.

The large lump of meat was quickly hammered into a meat filling that was not too soft, and Mosilaire immediately began to make the filling.

Fresh wild vegetables with water are finely chopped, and all kinds of spices and spices are sprinkled into the well-mixed filling, and the red meat puree and tender green vegetables blend together, and the normal and warm taste will soon be soaked in by the soothing time.

Winnie, who was standing nearby, thought that dinner would be pancakes and a plate of pureed meat—a combination she had eaten a few times before, and though it would be a far cry from the strange dinner she had imagined, the food was much better than the bland, tasteless food she had eaten in the tribe.

If she can eat this food, she can be very satisfied. After all, it's about contentment, isn't it?

But unexpectedly, Mosilaire picked out some of the minced meat and put it on the dough.

The white dough was wrapped in a spindle-shaped, and she had to pinch out some cute little folds on the overlapping side.

It will look good now, because the little pleats on it will be the same as the beautiful skirt.

Winnie had never seen such a trick before, and her eyes showed a longing watery glow. She was immediately looking forward to and interested in dinner, just like the mysterious and mesmerizing power she felt when she first saw the magic bulbs and heaters.

Apparently, Mosilaire was trying to make dumplings, and after she had made a few samples, she naturally invited Winnie to join in the dinner-making process.

She was also a rare traditional food from China when she was in the family, and she could only eat something to satisfy her daily cravings during the New Year's holidays - even though her father would always reproach her for not caring about the image of a lady at that time, Mosileelle, who had never been very obedient, still chose to stubbornly eat several large plates of soft dumplings in a row.

To this day she remembers many things, many people, from that time. But most of their faces were blurred in Mosilele's memory, just like her hurried childhood.

Although there are a variety of flavors of dumplings on the Imperial Marketplace, and some of them are almost beyond human imagination, Mosilaire feels that these purchased items are missing something important, and after satisfying the freshness, they are still not as good as the dumplings made by the family.

She loved the crackling of wood in her grandmother's stove when she lit the fire, and all the pictures she hoped for when the pot was popping.

This is a fragment of the soul that makes all wanderers who are far away from the alien land, because it shines, so it can also clearly guide them to find their route back home beyond the endless stars.

She will definitely go back.

By the time the white dumplings got out of the pot, it was already completely dark outside. The incandescent lamps of the kitchen, lit by Mosilaire, quietly fill the small room with a soft, warm orange glow.

Winnie seemed curious about how the dumplings were cooked, so she begged the kind Mosilaire to pick her up so she could see the dumplings up close - Mosilaire certainly had no reason to refuse the little girl's trivial request, so she readily agreed.

More than 30 dumplings are constantly churning up and down in the bubbling boiling water, and slowly because of this Chinese, it has quietly completed the blending and sublimation of its inner taste because of the simple cooking techniques that have been used for thousands of years.

Most of these dumplings were made by Mosilere, and the rest was naturally made by Winnie. Due to her lack of experience in making dumplings, this stubborn little girl will be a little slower, but she will make them look better than Mosilare's.

The imaginative Winnie also made dumplings in other shapes, like the boxy quadrilaterals or long strips of cute knick-knacks that occasionally pop up in the pot.

The dumplings cooked so quickly that Mosilaire turned off the electric stove and fished out the steaming, creamy dumplings.

Evenly arranged on a clean plate, Mosilaire, who had remembered the important things, poured some rich soy sauce and old vinegar on top.

Winnie was about to start her chopsticks, but Mosilaire smiled and told her that she had secretly put some of the dumplings in the sweet hard candy.

If any lucky guy eats these special dumplings, they'll get an extra packet of crispy chips on this blessed day.

They each ended up winning two packets of chips each. Mosilaire switched to two packets of barbecue-flavored chips, while Winnie asked for a packet of yogurt-flavored chips and a packet of tomato-flavored chips.

Potato chips are delicious, perfect for chasing tearful soap operas while lying on the couch. They don't have a couch or a TV yet, but maybe they will all have one in the future.

After a break for dinner, Mosilaire blanched the excess meat filling and fed it to the coveted peanuts. The fat left before was put into a pot by her to fry and boil oil, and more than 100 milliliters of animal oil were poured into a glass jar for storage.

Now they can have grease to use when they cook their food. That's nice.

And the oil residue left over from boiling can be very delicious when sprinkled with some fine salt, and can be used as a burnt and fattening snack to share with others during small talk in the evening.

She also collects the duck feathers, which can be used as a good filler if nothing else.

It may not be enough to sew clothes, but it's more than enough to make a pillow — she has wanted a real pillow for a long time — the kind of fluffy, comfortable pillow that makes you sleep well when you get your head on it, rather than continuing to torture her neck with a folded bag or a lump of hay.

There was still a pound of duck meat left, and Mosilele planned to make them into easy-to-preserve jerky in the next few days, but before that she could throw them all into the storage.

Although the food pantry's refrigerator Mosilaire is not yet energized, the temperature inside is still about seven or eight degrees lower than the outside world due to the large amount of ice in the past, which should be able to preserve the fresh meat for a short time so that it does not spoil quickly, or get into the belly of some gluttonous cat - Mosilaire is referring to peanuts, not the well-behaved Winnie.

Considering that the only source of electricity at the site, the small wind turbine, had dropped dramatically due to seasonal changes, Mosilaire felt the need to repair a more stable solar generator in case the base suddenly lost power.

She still has a lot of work to do, but as long as she gets it done in an orderly manner.

Before going to bed at night, Mosilaire sat down in front of the communication desk as usual and called it for a while. Adjust the channel slowly, but the headphones will always come out of the noise or white noise of different tones.

Maybe all the people on the planet with shortwave communication capabilities are dead, or maybe she didn't fix the old guy at all,—— to be honest, Mosilaire has never received any messages that look like sapient beings.

Mosilaire endured the torture of his ears for more than half an hour, and when he leaned over to disconnect the power of the communication station, a brief message came out of the loudspeaker.

Mosilaire stopped what he was doing and pressed the half-plug back again.

"Whew...... ......"

She sat back in her seat and began to adjust the frequency.

“……”

“……”

“……”

"Codename: D... 7...0..4......967C......

Command: Block Anti-...... Initiate...... Attack...... Destroy, annihilate.

repeat

Codename: D-37004697C

Command: Prevent the ship's reactor from starting, search, attack, destroy, and annihilate. ”

"Repeat—"

The loudspeaker was coming out of a mechanical, electronically synthesized sound, a voice all too familiar to Mosilele.

It's an all-channel program of action for the Mechanical Legion, and a short, hard-hitting death announcement - because by the same time you hear it, the mechanical legion's frenzied offensive against the target has already begun.