The RV's engine had been silent for hours, its steady hum replaced by a deep and comforting quiet that seemed to hold the chaos of the world at bay. Inside this small, makeshift refuge, Lu Wuqi, Yun Qinguye, and little Yunyue gathered around a tiny table under the gentle glow of a battery-powered lamp. On the table lay a few packets of self-heating hotpot—a modest meal by any other standard, but in this post-apocalyptic world, it shone like a rare treasure. The hotpot, with its mix of noodles, dried vegetables, and preserved meat, was not just food; it was a symbol of hope and survival, a reminder that even in the midst of ruin, small comforts could still be cherished.