Deep in the old forest, there is not even a gas boiler, let alone other decent cooking equipment.
The neatly chopped firewood had been stacked up into a small mound, placed smack in the center of the room. That spot was specifically meant for cooking, with no straw or wooden boards laid down, just an ordinary firebrick-paved well in the floor.
A soot-blackened pot hanging from above, its color obscured by darkness. Scrubbed carelessly with snow water and then filled with frozen rabbit meat, water, chopped potatoes and beans, and a sprinkle of salt, it became a straightforward soup.
After seeing such living conditions, Xiao Xian couldn't help but remark that compared to these, the living standards in District C are practically middle class. He thought that Zhang Yiyi should take a look at this; it would guarantee she wouldn't bemoan her past life in District C as unfit for human residence.
