Forget it. If I couldn't hear him, I couldn't hear him. I could ask Long Bixian what he said later.
Putting on that little act had been a bit tiring.
I casually removed the bullets from the M500's magazine and put them back in my pocket.
I tried to use my weapons as little as possible. If something went wrong, it might be too late to regret it.
But now I felt much more at ease. With Long Bixian around, he could repair anything that went wrong in time.
That old fellow had been a scientist, and now he could forge metal, too. The bullets he made were almost all perfectly identical.
He really was a useful talent.
Tsk, tsk... How had I not thought to bring him along back when we were at that base?
If I had, maybe Tang Xintian wouldn't have schemed against me back then, and perhaps all the things that came afterward wouldn't have happened.
Thinking of that, I let out a sigh of relief. I wasn't interested in listening anymore, so I turned and went to the bed. It had already been tidied up, leaving only a wooden bed. This wooden bed—
It was all joined together with mortise-and-tenon joints. When you lay on it, it let out a creak. It sounded flimsy, but in reality,
if you used this bed properly,
it would probably last ten or twenty years without any major problems.
The best thing about mortise-and-tenon joints was how easy they were to repair, and they wore down very little, too.
Our ancestors left behind a lot of good things, that was for sure.
But they were expensive, too. Before the apocalypse, I had really wanted a canopy bed—the kind with curtains, where the whole bed was
like a little room.