Jiang Nuan slowly buried her face in the oversized combat jacket, her warm breath dampening the inside of the collar.
But the temperature around her kept dropping.
Jiang Ce glanced at Jiang Nuan, then squeezed his way over from the driver’s seat.
Yes, “squeezed.”
The process of his large frame climbing from the front to the back was practically a small disaster.
His broad shoulders got stuck between the two seats, and the seams of his clothes stretched taut over his muscular build, emitting faint creaking sounds.
He swung one leg over first, his knee nearly hitting Jiang Nuan’s thigh, and she quickly shrank back.
Then his upper body followed.
The entire backseat space instantly felt more than half as cramped.
His shoulders blocked most of the firelight coming through the window, casting a shadow over her. Jiang Nuan was completely hidden by his size. When she looked up, she could only see his jaw and neck.
A wave of oppression and a sense of safety rose at the same time.
This contradiction made Jiang Nuan deeply uncomfortable.
But the backseat did, in fact, get noticeably warmer.
“Here,” Jiang Ce said, settling—or rather, wedging himself—into the backseat. He pulled a small silver square from the tactical pouch at his waist.
A compressed ration.
He handed the ration to Jiang Nuan, his tone gentle.
“Hungry?”
Jiang Nuan stared at the compressed ration.
The silver foil packaging reflected a faint light in the dim surroundings, carrying a grain-like aroma.
Her stomach cramped suddenly.
Hungry.
Of course she was hungry.
Ever since she had transmigrated here, she hadn’t had a proper meal.
Jiang Nuan hesitated for a few seconds.
Jiang Ce smiled. “Eat up. It’s not poisoned. You need the calories now, or your body temperature won’t hold.”
She reached out and took it.
The sound of the foil tearing was especially loud in the quiet cabin.
The compressed ration was dry and hard; biting into it made her lips ache, but its fragrance filled her mouth. The gnawing emptiness in her stomach finally eased a little.
Jiang Nuan chewed slowly, her eyes fixed on Jiang Ce as she began to plan.
This man was the only breakthrough she could find right now.
Ye Que wouldn’t acknowledge her. His attitude toward her was “shut up” and “carry her away,” without even a second glance.
Qinian… no, that person was too dangerous.
That voice was even worse—she hadn’t even seen its face, but just hearing it gave her an overwhelming sense of crushing pressure.
Only Jiang Ce remained.
His smile seemed genuine. He had given her food and clothes willingly, and his tone was the gentlest of all of them.
Was it real kindness, or another tactic?
She didn’t know, but she had no other choice.
Jiang Nuan swallowed the last bite of the ration, crumpling the empty foil in her fingers.
She looked up at Jiang Ce.
She controlled her expression.
Making herself look pitiful, but not fake.
“Jiang Ce…” Her voice carried a hint of fragile vulnerability.
“Hmm?”
“Can you… let me go?”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“You must have made a mistake. I really am just an ordinary person. I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it definitely isn’t me.”
“I just want… to live.”
The last two words escaped her throat with a prickling heat behind her eyes.
It wasn’t entirely an act.
She really did want to live.
In her hazy memories,
the original owner had shot herself in despair.
Jiang Nuan completely understood her.
But understanding was one thing. The problem was: the original owner was gone, and this body, this ability, and the people hunting for her—all of it was left to Jiang Nuan.
When she first transmigrated and received these memories, her thought was: If it were her, she wouldn’t do it either.
But after running from monsters for an entire night in that restricted zone and now ending up in this new one, she had discovered that she very, very much wanted to live.
She didn’t want to become anyone’s tool.
She didn’t want to become a public power bank.
She didn’t want to become that person locked in an empty room with a gun pressed to her temple.
The cabin fell silent for a few seconds.
Jiang Ce’s smile gradually faded.
Beneath it emerged a layer of something much more complicated.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned his head and looked out the window.
Outside in the darkness, Qinian’s flames burned in the distance, illuminating a small area where gathered survivors crouched near the firelight for warmth.
“Jiang Nuan,” Jiang Ce said her name.
He knew her name.
She had never introduced herself.
This realization crushed the last shred of her hope.
“I know you’re scared,” Jiang Ce said, his voice dropping—no longer light like before.
He turned back to her, and something in his eyes had changed.
A deep, profound difficulty.
“But there are things I can’t decide.”
His lips moved, as if he was choosing his next words.
“Do you know why Zero Squad came for you?”
Jiang Nuan’s nails dug into her palms.
“…No.”
“Captain Lu has your information. You were presumed dead five days ago, but today we re-locked onto your coordinates,” Jiang Ce said.
Jiang Nuan’s heart sank.
“You are an SSS-class Purifier.”
