“Miss Jiang needs to eat.” Meng Lan crouched in front of her knees and replaced the bloodstained gauze with a fresh one.
That sentence was already the most intervention she could manage.
“Let’s go.” Shen Wu was the first to stride out the door.
The dedicated mess hall for Zero Squad was much smaller than she had imagined.
A long table, eight chairs, and in the corner was an open kitchen area where a chef in gray work clothes was cleaning up the counter.
Four dishes and one soup were laid out on the table, the portions quite generous.
Steam rose upward, carrying the mingled aroma of oil and sauce.
Jiang Nuan sat down.
The chair was metal, the cushion thin and hard beneath her.
But she couldn’t spare a thought for that; all her attention was drawn to the food on the table.
Braised pork belly, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, a plate of neatly sliced marinated tofu, and a large bowl of thick tomato and egg soup.
Her stomach gave a sharp twist.
It had been five days since she had transmigrated here, and all she had found in the original owner’s room were four compressed energy bars.
She had eaten one a day, choking them down with cold water. On the fifth day, the bars ran out, and she was so hungry that her vision went black and she had no choice but to go out.
That was when she stumbled into the restricted tunnel.
And then came Ye Que, the rule about not being alone, and the ventilation ducts.
All because of hunger.
If those four energy bars had been two more, she could have held out another two days at least. She wouldn’t have been forced to run out in panic on the fifth day.
Jiang Nuan lowered her head, her vision blurring for a moment.
She remembered the dining hall at the north gate of her school in her previous life—the seats by the window on the second floor, where she and her roommate always sat. A bowl of braised chicken rice cost fifteen yuan, and rice was refillable.
The two of them had argued for an entire semester over whether the braised chicken rice should be mildly spicy or plain.
Those ordinary days were gone forever now.
She lowered her head and blinked hard twice, grabbed her chopsticks, and directly picked up the biggest piece of braised pork, shoving it into her mouth.
The meat was hot, the oily sauce coating her tongue. Before she could really taste it, she swallowed it in one gulp.
She had to survive.
If she died, there would be nothing left—not even that one-in-ten-thousand chance.
Jiang Nuan bent over her bowl, shoveling rice into her mouth so quickly she barely chewed, swallowing bite after bite.
Qinian also arrived and sat down across from her, his long legs folding awkwardly beneath the table.
He picked up his chopsticks, moving with a lazy air, but eating at a ferocious speed. A few sweeps later, half the braised pork was gone.
Shen Wu sat to her left. He didn’t touch his chopsticks; instead, he watched her eyes.
“How much do you actually know about your purification ability?”
Jiang Nuan’s hand, holding the chopsticks to pick up some food, paused. The piece of tofu trembling on her chopsticks wavered.
“I’ve never used it once.”
She was telling the truth.
The original owner had never used this purification ability, and neither had she.
She put the tofu into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
Shen Wu’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment.
Jiang Nuan had the feeling of being seen through.
But Shen Wu didn’t press her. He just raised an eyebrow, withdrew his gaze, and picked up his soup bowl.
Jiang Nuan let out an imperceptible sigh of relief.
There was a moment of silence.
The sound of chopsticks clinking against porcelain bowls, the scrape of a spoon against the bottom of a bowl, the clatter from the kitchen counter as the chef tidied up—these scattered, everyday noises layered together almost made her feel like she was having a normal meal.
Qinian shattered that illusion.
“Have you heard about the C District Seventh Squad?”
He was asking Shen Wu.
Shen Wu put down his soup bowl and wiped a corner of his mouth with his thumb.
“It was an S-rank mission, codenamed Operation Winter Thorn. Last week’s business.”
Jiang Nuan didn’t stop eating, but her ears perked up.
“The Seventh Squad’s lineup wasn’t bad,” Shen Wu continued, as if reciting an archived report. “Nine people—one S-rank, two A-rank combat types, one A-rank support type. The rest were standard tactical units. That’s above average for a squad of its level. But the mission was too rushed; they were only assigned a B-rank purifier.”
“As expected, there’s nothing you don’t know,” Qinian clicked his tongue. “Stuffing a B-rank purifier into an S-rank restricted zone is the same as not bringing one at all.”
“There is a difference,” Shen Wu said expressionlessly. “It adds one more burden.”
This Shen Wu’s mouth was still as venomous as ever.
“They lasted forty-seven hours in the zone,” Shen Wu continued. “Black box data showed that the last team member to die was the vice captain.”
He paused.
“His fatal wound came from the captain.”
“The captain, after being corrupted.”
Jiang Nuan found the food in her mouth hard to swallow.
A nine-person squad—nine went in, zero came back.
Scenes automatically pieced together in her mind: a person turning into a monster, tearing apart their most trusted companions.
Jiang Nuan tightened her grip on her chopsticks. A question that had been circling her mind finally forced its way out. “Since these zones are so dangerous... even a squad with S-rank combat power can be wiped out, why go in at all? Isn’t it enough to just defend the base?”
She couldn’t understand it. To her, it seemed like a suicidal game with astronomically low odds and devastating costs.
Shen Wu’s hand, holding the soup bowl, froze.
He turned his head and looked at her with the expression of someone being asked a stupid question like, “Why do you need to eat when you’re hungry?”
“Defend?” Qinian laughed first. “Miss Jiang, do you think the restricted zones are scenic spots that will stay put if you don’t go bothering them?”
Jiang Nuan was stunned. “Aren’t they?”
Her knowledge of restricted zones was limited; before awakening her powers, the original owner was just an ordinary person struggling to survive in the apocalypse, and her fragmented memories contained little information about zones.
“The zones are alive.”
Shen Wu set down the bowl.
“If a zone isn’t cleared, the corruption levels will keep expanding outward. If no one enters the core area to clear them, they will devour the real world like cancer cells.”
He reached out a hand and traced a vague circle on the table with his fingertip.
“High-level zones, especially. If left unchecked, their borders grow at geometric rates. Today, it swallows a tunnel. Tomorrow, a city. Eventually...”
Shen Wu stopped, his eyes taking on the terrifying quality that seemed to see through everything.
“Eventually, the entire world will be completely swallowed by the zones. By that time, no place will be safe—not even this base.”
Jiang Nuan felt a chill crawl up her spine.
So that was it.
Those investigation squads weren’t challenging the zones; they were desperately cutting away deadly tumors before the world itself was devoured.
“So you see,” Qinian picked up his chopsticks again, his tone returning to its usual lazy nonchalance, “to prevent everyone from dying together, someone’s always got to go die first.”
He tossed a piece of braised pork into his mouth, chewed, and added with casual indifference,
“That’s the rule of this world.”
Jiang Nuan lowered her head and looked at the steaming rice in her bowl.
Then how was she supposed to survive in this rotten world?
She wasn’t some saint. She didn’t have such grand ambitions as saving the world.
She just wanted to live.
She picked up another bite of vegetables, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.
The communicator on Shen Wu's wrist suddenly chimed.
He glanced down at it.
"Captain Lu's orders." He stood up, pushed his chair back, and turned his gaze toward Jiang Nuan.
"Report to the Purification Test Room immediately after the meal."
Jiang Nuan still had food in her mouth.
Purification Test Room.
Five words, each one she recognized, but the moment they came together, the fragile sense of calm she had painstakingly built over the course of an entire meal came crashing down.
Purification.
Test.
Deep physical contact.
The terms detonated in her mind.
She could almost see it: a windowless, sealed room; Qi Sui pulling on medical gloves; Jiang Ce’s hand—strong enough to crush armor—pressing down on her shoulder; Ye Que, like a predator, blocking the only exit...
Her throat tightened. The dry lump of rice lodged itself stubbornly in her windpipe, refusing to go up or down.
Qinian was still sipping his soup leisurely, a faint tilt at the corner of his eyes as his gaze skimmed over her rigid shoulders.
Jiang Nuan’s hand trembled as she clutched her chopsticks.
She forced herself to reach for the cup of water beside her, downing a large gulp to wash the food down her throat.
Eat first—gain strength for what’s coming.
Even if she had no way to face it at all.
