That being said, it would be reluctant for him to throw away all the cockroach cakes he had paid for—besides, the cockroach cakes weren't made of cockroaches—or rather, they weren't all made of cockroaches.

Because in addition to the cockroaches you'll find in this discus-like hard cake made from the scraps of food from the rich man's kitchen, you might also eat some fingernails, hair, skin crumbs, or screws that fell from the machine that made the cockroach cake — and even one lucky one once ate a big gold tooth — and you don't know which rich man accidentally dropped it.

Naturally, the lucky man's gold tooth was robbed shortly after he walked out of the food shop - along with his wallet, old watch, and miscellaneous items.

Of course, since it's called a cockroach cake, the biggest surprise that the poor who are forced to eat it can taste in it is the cockroach—or part of the cockroach—like the hard, brittle carapace evenly distributed inside, the thin elytra that often stick to your palate, or the long, long, black, rough tentacles that pull out between your teeth when you feel something is wrong when you chew.

The most disgusting and terrifying thing is the terrible smell that can only be felt when you bite through its belly cavity - when your back molars accidentally bite through the rough lump of food that wraps it, that soft, slightly brittle belly will be cut in two by your hard, lovely teeth, and it is impossible to stop.

Because before you realize that you have made a big mistake and try to spit it out along with all the chewed food paste, a slight salty smell will spread rapidly from one side of your mouth to the rest of the mouth, and then some small amount of viscous slurry and internal organs that burst out of the cockroach's abdominal cavity will immediately and irrepressibly emit a crazy taste that seems to be beyond the limit of taste buds when you mix rotten tree roots with foul-smelling salted fish, dirty socks, and rotten eggs with a stick and mash them and dilute them with a small amount of water— It's not too intense, but it's definitely going to impress.

If you manage to spit out the food scraps in your mouth, the well-meaning people in the gathering will advise you not to look closely at the food paste attached to the ground in order to satisfy your curiosity, because you will not find any surprises in the paste except for a mixture of carapace fragments that you chewed thinly, a few stubby cockroach legs covered with dense fine hairs, its "small" head, and the internal body fluids that hold the pieces of corpses firmly together, and which can be pulled out with teeth. And you'll soon vomit out all the food you originally swallowed, and you'll have to queue up again and pay for another cockroach cake.

In contrast, the mud block became the preferred choice for poor people who were less psychologically tolerant but could not afford to buy normal food – but it had a worse and coarser taste, making it taste like eating a piece of dry clay.

Most experienced poor people will have several large bowls of water ready before trying to swallow it in their stomachs – unless you want your esophagus to be scratched hard by this horrible processed food.

When Bender carefully spooned some stubborn mashed potatoes off the edge and put them in his mouth, the white plate returned to its cleaner appearance before it was served—and Bender could even see his face and the satisfied look on it.

All the people at the table began to carefully reminisce about these hard-won delicacies—the poor people of the gathering place could not have imagined that the kind-hearted ladies and gentlemen of the marginal colonies would be willing to entertain them with these normal delicacies.

Some of the hungry people had even swallowed a few pieces of cockroach bread and mud to fill their stomachs in the afternoon – and of course, they ate all the best treats.

But that wasn't the end of it, as Miss Mosilaire and Winnie brought some steamed, steaming sweet potatoes from the kitchen for dessert at the dinner.

By the time they had gobbled up the hot, sweet sweet potatoes, their bellies were completely full, and a sense of ease and comfort had not been felt in a long time by the guests who had come to the gathering place—Bender felt his body fluttering and warm—but fortunately he had clung to the edge of the table, or Bender might have flown to the ceiling.

At the end of this very sumptuous dinner, Bende, who stood up, still felt that his steps were as wonderful and comfortable as stepping on a soft marshmallow, Bender thought that he was the only one, but he looked around a little, and he could find that everyone was almost like this, even Vasa, the tough guy of the iron tower who usually breaks his hands and feet and does not frown, has become a "soft-footed shrimp", and unabashedly helps each other to leave the table with his partners who are also soft legs and feet, and amuses each other in this way.

At the end of dinner, with the exception of a few men who had enthusiastically signed up to scrub the dishes in the hope of repaying the hospitality of the marginal colony, everyone returned to the car parked around the main body and within the solid defensive walls, and began to chat and fart in a rare way—everyone was still stubbornly battling the lingering taste of disgusting cockroach cakes or mud lumps around their mouths.

Since most of the rooms in the base have not been cleaned up, these guests from afar can only sleep in the car tonight - the big guys don't think there is anything wrong with this, after all, they have been resting in the car for the past few days,—— and there is no need to be afraid of the beasts tonight.

As for leaving the sturdy car and setting up camp nearby? If they wanted to lure cannibal tribes and beasts to their feet with the light of the fire, they would do such a mad thing - in general, foolish rookies who have just stepped into the wasteland seem to be keen on doing such ridiculous stupid things.

As for Mr. Luden, the leader of the convoy, he was now in the dining room discussing the deal in more detail with Miss Mosilaire about the deal and the business activities that might follow.

When Mr. Bittermelon returned to the car, it was probably ten o'clock in the evening—or maybe it was past nine o'clock, and Bender had no watch and could only guess the time by the celestial phenomena.

Bender's lips, leaning back in his seat and looking out the window at the bright stars, squirmed several times, but finally he couldn't hold back, woke up Little Red Riding Hood, who was already asleep next to him, and asked her, "Hey, Little Red Riding Hood, what do you think of our neighbors?" ”

"Do I think so?" Little Red Riding Hood replied quickly—it turned out that she hadn't fallen asleep at all, but had just squinted and enjoyed it, so that Bender mistakenly thought that the guy who was trying to imitate Piggy had fallen asleep after eating and drinking.

Little Red Riding Hood, who shares the same starry sky as Bender, replied without thinking, "Great, great, super, super - and, besides, cool!" ”

Bender seemed to get the answer he wanted.

The morning of the second day soon arrived, and the sleepy-eyed Little Red Riding Hood found Bender staring out the window of the car not knowing what he was looking at, and as if he hadn't closed his eyes all night—a conclusion easily drawn from his swollen bloodshot eyes and slightly haggard countenance.

"Banderier, you wouldn't have slept all night, would you?" Little Red Riding Hood looked surprised.

"Hmm." Bender, whose eyes were a little sour, just replied sullenly, and had no intention of continuing to talk to her.

Today's breakfast consisted of a few steamed eggs and a piece of bacon that had just been fried in a pan and had a rich meaty aroma.

But after breakfast, it was time for the guests to say goodbye to the colonists of the fringe colonies - the people who had retaken their weapons from the old knives had lost the vigilance and precaution of the first arrival yesterday, and even the slight malice that had been hidden was gone—and a few of the stout men were even able to play happily with the colony's mascot, Peanut, the kitten.

But no one chose to stay—they all had loved ones and relatives in Gathering Place Three that they couldn't easily part with, and the price of being freed was staggering—and of course, this wasn't a problem for the lone fugitive, Mr. Bender.

In the base cafeteria, Mosilaire poured a cup of hot water for Bender, who was sitting in front of her.

"You said you wanted to join our colony?" Mosilaire raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised, "Why?" ”

"It's better to join in, but it's better to take in." Bender blinked his somewhat red and swollen eyes and tugged at the corners of his mouth helplessly. "As for the reason, I'm sorry I don't know why."

Mosilaire frowned suspiciously, disapprovingly.

But Bender slowly added: "I just ...... Love it here. ”

He looked a little embarrassed as he said this, and rubbed his hands together nervously, as if he understood that this was not a convincing reason.

"Theoretically......" but Mosilaire smiled lightly and took a sip of the hot water in his hand, "The Marginal Colony welcomes any hard-working, brave, and caring freedfolk to join. ”

She quickly put the cup down in her hand again, put all the gentle smile on her face, and stared at Bender's face gravely. "So, Mr. Banderlier, how do you plan to prove that you are not a spy sent by Gathering Ground Three or other organizations with ulterior motives that exist within the Gathering Ground to steal our valuable scientific achievements?"

Bender smiled bitterly, pulling out the wrinkles and vicissitudes of his face. "Regarding this, I believe I have ample evidence to prove that I would never have been a spy sent by Gathering Three."