Chapter 34: Black Pearl Dinner (Now Live—Please Subscribe!)

The windows in Jiang Yan’s apartment were double-glazed.

They provided insulation against both heat and cold—and were even bulletproof.

On top of that, she’d had the renovation company apply a layer of the latest one-way composite glass film, originally developed for luxury cars, to the outside.

This film not only offered excellent insulation, but also had a special feature: she could see out clearly, but no one outside could see in—even if she didn’t draw the curtains, her room would look pitch-black from the outside.

The privacy was excellent.

This effectively prevented any nosy neighbors from trying to spy on her with binoculars or drones.

After adjusting the binoculars’ eye distance and other settings, Jiang Yan peered into the garden at the group of people gathered there.

It looked like a few officials in white shirts and black trousers were talking to the property management staff.

The property manager and several supervisors were there too.

They chatted as they walked toward the underground parking garage.

Everyone wore helmets and gloves, covering every inch of exposed skin.

Of course, their faces were flushed red from the heat and stuffiness—redder than freshly cooked prawns.

Officials? Underground garage?

Jiang Yan quickly ran these two words through her mind and suddenly realized what was happening.

There were five buildings in Shanshui Bay, with over five hundred households.

If parking spaces were built at a one-to-one ratio, that meant at least five hundred spots.

At ten square meters per car, the underground parking garage would be over five thousand square meters—not counting a few extra spaces for civil defense.

So, with temperatures this high, they were probably planning to temporarily use the underground garage as a cooling shelter for the community.

But most of the parking spots had already been sold, with a few still being rented out.

Whether the owners would be willing to move their cars was a big question.

Leaving cars outside didn’t just mean dealing with the heat—it was a security risk too.

What puzzled Jiang Yan was that, with the temperature so high, the authorities could have just sent a notice or made a phone call to arrange this.

She couldn’t figure out why they needed to come in person.

Shanshui Bay was built on high ground, with solid geological conditions.

The developer was a state-owned enterprise, and the buildings were well-constructed.

Normally, compared to things like school districts or convenient transportation, these weren’t special advantages.

But during the rainy season, this place was far more resilient than most developments in the city.

Could it be that the authorities already anticipated that torrential rains would follow the heatwave?

After all, she had been reborn—maybe there were some extraordinary people among the officials too.

But that was a question only time would answer.

Jiang Yan didn’t dwell on it.

The group disappeared into the garage and didn’t come out for a long while.

They’d probably entered the building directly from the underground parking lot.

She put away the binoculars and turned her attention to the most pressing issue in her life: what to eat for dinner?

She’d made do with a refreshing bowl of cold noodles in the warehouse at lunch.

Tonight, she deserved a real feast.

Especially since today marked a milestone: she’d managed to stockpile all the supplies she needed before disaster struck.

That called for a proper celebration.

After some thought, Jiang Yan retrieved a bottle of top-tier red wine worth over seventy thousand yuan from her storage space, along with a set of single-serving natural crystal decanter and wine glass.

To add a sense of occasion, she also dug out a set of candle holders and a luxury table runner from her old villa and set the table.

She uncorked the wine and poured it slowly into the decanter to breathe, then headed to the bathroom.

She enjoyed a leisurely rose bath, dried her hair, slipped into a light, cool silk nightgown, and finally made her way to the dining table.

Leaning forward, she brought her nose close to the decanter—the sweet, mellow scent of linden blossoms filled the air. The wine was perfectly aerated.

By now, night had fallen outside, and the temperature had soared to a terrifying fifty-eight degrees Celsius.

The garden was deserted, the streetlights glowed dimly, and not a soul was in sight.

But she could just make out the blood mosquitoes—their numbers and size had visibly increased.

In the buildings across and next door, every window was brightly lit.

A quick glance showed people frantically filling bathtubs with water, rushing to cook rice and dishes while there was still power, water, and gas.

Some were brandishing feather dusters and scolding their kids, others were couples red-faced and shouting at each other, and in some homes, elderly or young family members had apparently succumbed to the heat, with relatives collapsed on the floor, wailing in grief.

A few households had just installed air conditioners in the past couple of days and were now facing the same situation Jiang Yan had encountered that afternoon.

The difference was, Jiang Yan had dealt with it outside her door—quickly and decisively.

Those families, clearly less prepared, were trying to reason with the people at their doors after opening up.

Two households, already crowded, still couldn’t refuse their persistent neighbors and let them move in with their whole families.

Everyone knew the power would be cut soon, so even if they could use the air conditioning, it wouldn’t last long.

But there were always those who clung to hope, believing the official announcements that after these two days, the temperature would drop and water, electricity, and gas would be restored.

Besides, the Shanshui Bay property management had backup generators.

No matter what, they could last two or three days.

Of course, there were also families working together in harmony, or young couples so in love they didn’t mind the heat and just wanted to snuggle.

In short, life in all its flavors—sweet, sour, bitter, spicy—was on full display.

But none of that had anything to do with her.

Jiang Yan only glanced over briefly before picking up her phone and closing the curtains.

She’d already decided on her dinner menu while soaking in the bath—tonight’s selection would be dishes from a certain Black Pearl restaurant.

Sichuan Pepper Angus Veal Carpaccio, Crystal Tiger Prawns in Dried Mushroom Sauce, Lemongrass Glass-Crisp Squab, Garlic Butter Baked Lobster, Seasonal Greens in Superior Broth, Double-Boiled Abalone in Coconut, Tempura Golden Flowers, Refreshing Seaweed Salad, and Osmanthus Rice Wine Dessert.

With a thought, four meat dishes, two vegetable dishes, one soup, one cold dish, and one dessert appeared neatly on the table.

It looked like a lot of plates, but each portion was small.

The crystal-clear, bouncy prawn balls—just four.

The crispy roasted squab—two tiny pieces.

The bright green, crunchy seaweed—three small bites.

The richly fragrant, sweet-and-sour rice wine dessert—half a small bowl.

The plates were large and beautiful, but the servings were dainty.

When she’d ordered from these Black Pearl restaurants, five-star hotels, and time-honored establishments, she’d bought the dishes along with their containers.

It cost more, but ensured the plating looked exquisite.

As a former food blogger, she had high standards—not just for taste, aroma, and appearance, but also for presentation.

With her storage space’s preservation and heat-retention effects, the dishes were as fresh as if they’d just come out of the restaurant kitchen—no need to reheat anything."