Apocalyptic Fantasy Kitchen

Chapter Nine: She's a Maniac

“If it’s not you, then who else?” The auntie rolled her eyes at Fang Qing, as if she were an i***t. But in Fang Qing’s era, she was the product of a perfect combination of a high-quality egg and sperm, a member of the advanced human species with an above-average IQ. Yet, here she was, being treated like a simpleton. In the auntie’s eyes, Fang Qing did seem a bit dumb—who else would dig up a flower garden in broad daylight?

Fang Qing hugged Awu and followed the auntie. She had nowhere else to go, so she might as well follow along. Meanwhile, she was relying on Awu to relay information about this era via brainwave communication. Unfortunately, Awu didn’t have much information about this time period. Whether it was coincidence or bad luck, whoever designed Awu had forgotten to install historical data. That was why Awu had been sold to Fang Qing at such a low price.

Awu shared what little information it had, and Fang Qing listened, her head spinning with confusion.

I should have paid more attention to history books, she thought, full of regret. But who could have predicted she’d suddenly be transported from a highly advanced civilization to an era with primitive technology but pristine nature?

As she walked, people stared at her with curiosity. She couldn’t understand why. Back in her time, she could walk through a crowded street without anyone giving her a second glance.

“It’s your clothes,” Awu whispered through brainwave communication, too afraid to speak aloud. Based on its limited knowledge, Awu understood that people of this era were much more conservative and cautious.

For example, computers here couldn’t talk. And while Awu was technically a smart functional robot, to others, it looked like an ordinary stuffed animal or a small dog.

“My clothes?” Fang Qing looked down at her outfit. Since it couldn’t change anymore, it felt strange to be stuck in one look. She was used to changing outfits to match her mood. Now she had no choice but to wear this, though at least it kept her warm and protected from the wind.

It was a bit frustrating. She glanced at the people around her. Their clothes were thick, layered, and colorful. How do they move in all those layers? she wondered.

She thought they looked odd, not realizing they thought the same about her.

“Look at that girl,” someone whispered, pointing at her. “It’s nearly winter, and she’s dressed like that, with bare arms and legs. Isn’t she cold?”

“Maybe she’s crazy?” someone else chimed in. Her face wasn’t flushed, she wasn’t shivering, and her expression was perfectly calm.

As Fang Qing listened, she began to understand. She glanced at her outfit. It was temperature-regulated, maintaining a comfortable 25 or 26 degrees Celsius. She might look like she was dressed for summer, but her body was perfectly warm.

This is high-tech, people! You wouldn’t understand! she thought. But then she pouted. Why did their clothes look so nice? Were these the traditional outfits of ancient people? They were surprisingly pretty. The material wasn’t great, but the designs were lovely. She’d only seen clothes like this in photos.

She looked at her own outfit again. The contrast was obvious. Maybe if she brought some of these clothes back to her time, they’d be considered antiques?

Lowering her head, she followed the auntie, who was muttering about taking her to some kind of bureau.

But what was a bureau, exactly?