Han Yanyan didn't have a watch, so she couldn't tell the exact time. But by her rough guess, it felt like it was around ten at night. She was extremely hungry. She had food in her backpack initially, but Ding Yao had taken it away. While waiting in the car for the squad to clear the area, the driver had given her a sausage to stave off her hunger. By this time, her hunger had returned with a vengeance, and she devoured two buns by herself.
Standing by the window with the lights off, munching on her meat-filled buns, Han Yanyan looked at the people below. It was dark downstairs, illuminated only by a single light at the building entrance. Squad members were gathering in the open space, and Ding Yao was giving a speech. She couldn’t hear clearly but assumed he was announcing a meeting.
With the two buns, she finished off a can of meat, eating until her stomach felt full. She even licked her fingers clean, something she would never have done in the past. But having been in this world for three days, she had only tasted meat on the first day. Yesterday and today, she had been surviving on broken biscuits and cold buns.
At this moment, had Ding Yao been present and demanded something of her, she might have agreed just for that can of meat. She wasn’t truly starved compared to those whose skinny, yellowed faces and green-tinged eyes reflected their desperation. Han Yanyan could suddenly understand the women who’d sell themselves for two pieces of biscuit.
Yet, looking at the small room she was in, she felt slightly disappointed that her first time with Ding Yao would happen under such shabby circumstances. Women usually have a touch of sentimentality; even if her aim was to win over Ding Yao, she hoped the setting wouldn't be this terrible.
If only Ding Yao could wait until they returned to his luxurious suite in Nanling City. Han Yanyan thought with a tinge of regret. But she knew Ding Yao had no intention of waiting. Men, unlike women, often did not care about romantic surroundings for such matters; they just hoped for immediate fulfillment of their needs.
The way Ding Yao looked at her before going downstairs clearly expressed his intentions. He planned to sleep with her that very night.
Frankly speaking, even Han Yanyan herself, sitting steadily on a clean bed and recalling the life-and-death experiences of the day and the terrifying roars of mutant zombies from earlier in the factory, felt the urge to drag Ding Yao upstairs and fiercely ride him to dispel the fear bottled up inside her.
Fear is a human instinct, and so is sexual desire. Sometimes the latter can effectively dispel the former. For someone like Ding Yao, it's an effective way to relieve the after-effects of adrenaline that follows a battle.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ding Yao’s driver poked his head inside, “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Mosquitoes,” Han Yanyan replied, walking over to turn on the light.
“Had dinner?” the man asked.
“Finished.”
“They’ve got the boiler and water tank working, so you can take a shower now,” he informed her. “The bathroom’s on the other side, and it’s communal. They’ve already gone to wash up. There are no women on this floor, so you can wait until they’re done.”
It was good news, at least she wouldn’t have to endure their first encounter covered in sweat.
After the man left, Han Yanyan turned around and noticed a towel and toiletries on the bed. It seemed Ding Yao carried these with him, and spatial abilities were certainly the most convenient kind of power, making others envious.
With nothing else to do and needing to wait anyway, Han Yanyan turned off the light and leaned by the window, peering out below. She could hear vague sounds wafting up, unclear.
The squad members dispersed, but Ding Yao lingered, talking with a few who stayed behind. The men lit up cigarettes; from above, Han Yanyan couldn't make out the faces clearly, only seeing the glow of cigarette tips. But she knew precisely where Ding Yao was standing. Even four floors up, his presence was palpable.
The men showered quickly, more of a rinse than a proper wash. In the heat of summer, everyone was soaked in sweat. Some men had blood on them, whether theirs or others', and needed to wash it off for safety.
It wasn't long before Ding Yao was still talking downstairs when the driver, now with a damp head, knocked on the door again. “All set, you can go wash up now.”
Han Yanyan acknowledged but remained motionless.
Suddenly, the men downstairs erupted into laughter, and she faintly heard the words "beautiful woman." She saw Ding Yao lift his head and glance upwards.
Clearly, everyone knew Ding Yao planned to bed her that night, and they were making a ruckus about it. Han Yanyan's lips twitched, and she took her towel and toiletries to the public bathhouse.
The bathhouse was at the other end of the corridor, twelve cubicles in two rows of six, with long wooden benches in between. The cubicles had old-fashioned swing doors that opened from the knees up.
Han Yanyan left her clothes and shoes on the bench and entered a cubicle barefoot. Everyone knew she was with Ding Yao, so there was no worry about anyone daring to disturb her. No one would dare.
Twisting the knob, warm water cascaded from the showerhead. Ding Yao seemed to have all kinds of talent under his command. These people could fight, kill, and even fix a boiler!
Han Yanyan thought of how once a week, at Thunder Base, they would harvest wheat and rice. Ding Yao was managing a squad, running it like a self-sustained little society. Even if Nanling City was paralyzed, the Thunder Strike Squad could live independently.
While carefully washing herself, Han Yanyan contemplated what kind of person Ding Yao truly was and how she might handle him. As she faced the wall, letting the hot water pour over her face, she heard the harsh creak of a spring door behind her. Before she could react, powerful arms wrapped around her.
In the man's embrace, she turned in shock, only to see Ding Yao's stern face. The tension in her body instantly eased.
Satisfied with her reaction, Ding Yao pushed her against the wall and bit her lip. His actions were fierce and aggressive, just the way Han Yanyan liked.
Han Yanyan had pressure built up over the whole day that needed release, and she reached up to tug around Ding Yao’s neck, responding in kind. Ding Yao was lean and firm, his muscles well-defined. Their bare bodies melded under the hot water, each feeling the other's strength or softness. Desire rose with the steam and the white mist.
Then a faint scream echoed from somewhere in the hallway—sharp and brief, it vanished quickly.
Two squad members sleeping in the room next to the bathhouse had just lain down but suddenly sat up together. In this post-apocalyptic world, they had developed acute vigilance.
“That noise just now...?”
“It was… a woman.”
Their expressions grew odd suddenly.
“We just left the base, and the boss hasn’t been holding back these days. So why…?”
Why was there such a commotion? That cry of pain… clearly, the girl suffered.
The two exchanged glances.
“Go to sleep!”
“Yeah, yeah, sleep. We’ve got work tomorrow!”
Han Yanyan was in such pain that her nails dug into Ding Yao's flesh. Ding Yao glanced down; under the dim light, a streak of red trickled down the floor and slid into the drain.
“Virgin?” he asked.
In this new setup, she had a nearly blank slate to work with, and she initially enjoyed that freedom—though she hadn’t anticipated that the electronic voice had prepared her a previously untarnished body. Cursing the electronic voice’s ancestors in her mind, she let out a tremulous sound, wavering between a sob and a moan, “Be gentle, it hurts…”
By day, Han Yanyan had been like a small beast baring its fangs while clutching a fruit knife, stabbing men with cutthroat ferocity, yet not exceptionally strong but with a determined streak. But now, she seemed as delicate as a flower ready to fall with the rain.
Ding Yao remembered her ruthless strike that afternoon, driving a small knife into a man's carotid artery, as another fruit knife stabbed into Han Yanyan herself.
Han Yanyan had wanted a night of equal passion, but misjudged the enemy, and ended up thoroughly overpowered. Sounds of pleasure mingled with pain emerged, barely audible over the splashing water...
To Ding Yao, women were not for cherishing. As she soared to the summit, overwhelmed by blazing white lights, Han Yanyan's mind flashed with that thought.
Han Yanyan slept lightly that night.
Once again, she dreamed of sandstorms and an indistinct face with eyes cold and inhuman. When she woke up, she found herself drenched in cold sweat.
"Awake?" Ding Yao was sitting by the bed, dressing.
Out in the field, he didn't indulge excessively. They'd only done it once last night—he merely needed to relax. After a night’s sleep, he was refreshed, with a clear mind.
Standing to pull on his trousers and a black tactical T-shirt, he turned to see Han Yanyan had also sat up. The towel slipped down, revealing her snow-white body covered in red marks. Her expression showed a hint of confusion, lost the ruthless edge from when she killed, reminiscent of her sobs last night.
Ding Yao touched her face, telling her, “Get some more sleep. We leave in the afternoon.”
Downstairs, the sounds grew noisy as the search crew began work. Once he left, he left Han Yanyan a box of buns and a can before heading downstairs.
Wrapped in the towel, Han Yanyan moved to the edge of the bed, taking big bites of her meat-filled bun. In this post-apocalyptic world, it was a luxurious meal that others could only envy.
The dormitory was small, with a study desk by the window, and the bed right next to it. By stretching her neck, Han Yanyan could see downstairs. Ding Yao's men were dismantling machinery, the search team acting as the laborers, diligently carrying parts like worker ants. Han Yanyan could bet that most of them were working on empty stomachs, all for that one bun at noon.
The bun in her hand, filled with meat, seemed especially precious and smelled particularly fragrant. Han Yanyan thought, though she had rolled over the sheets, she was now Ding Yao’s woman. At least with him, she'd have meat to eat.
She realized she knew nothing about this man yet and had to bide her time by his side, gradually learning about him, waiting for the right moment to act.
Last night, he seemed quite satisfied with her.
That wicked electronic voice; it didn't grant her the beauty she wanted but gave her an alluring body instead. Had she known, she could have taken the seductive route from the start instead of struggling through chaos and bloodshed.
The feeling of blood on her hands was truly awful. It was like stepping onto an unfamiliar path, unsure of where it led.
Han Yanyan chewed and swallowed her last piece of meat, staring blankly at the people downstairs struggling for a bun.
As "the boss's woman," Han Yanyan conscientiously enjoyed her privileges—not just full and comfortable but also free from manual labor. She stayed confined to the room, not roaming about unnecessarily. All those apocalyptic novels had warned her: wandering out alone could bring unseen zombies, often the terrifying kind.
She wouldn’t court trouble herself. She came to this world not to survive but to win over Ding Yao. She kept that in mind always and constantly reminded herself of her purpose.