Volume 1, Chapter 20: Their Story
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Thud! Thud! Thud!
After Hua Qianhui’s roar, irregular footsteps echoed outside the room.
“Kill him! Kill him!” Soon, nearly mindless shouts came from beyond the door.
No doubt, these were the chefs—now wild-eyed, clutching kitchen knives, drooling, staggering like madmen.
“Venomous Queen? Is this all your trickery? With these people, you haven’t a chance,” Qi Fengling said indifferently, for those under Hua Qianhui’s control were merely ordinary folk.
“Kid, no need to bother,” Hua Qianhui’s playful mood vanished. Her senses sharpened as she studied Qi Fengling and the skeletal warriors surrounding him.
Having survived the apocalypse for years, Qi Fengling instantly saw through her thoughts.
This woman planned to flee.
Her strength was inferior; she held no advantage one-on-one. Now, with so many under Qi Fengling’s command, Hua Qianhui stood no chance of winning outright.
Her only hope was to create chaos and, relying on her exceptional speed and unique physique, escape this room.
“Hmph, none of you deserve pity.”
“Kill them all, leave no one alive,” Qi Fengling whispered at the door.
“Hiss!”
“Ah! Monster!”
“Ah! I don’t want to die!”
...
At Qi Fengling’s command, horse neighs sounded outside, followed by the screams of four captives.
It was clear that in their final moments, those controlled had regained their senses.
They likely had no idea why they had charged here, nor why skeletal riders suddenly appeared.
Clack! Clack!
Soon, the skeletal captain approached, raising a spear from which dangled the four.
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Witnessing this, Hua Qianhui’s once upright posture sagged; not only had she failed to cause chaos, but she now faced even stronger reinforcements from Qi Fengling.
“Venomous Queen, any other tricks?”
“Hahaha, don’t call me that. My name’s Hua Qianhui. Since death is certain, may I know yours?” She sat heavily on the bed, her voice tinged with resignation.
She had thought herself the chosen one, blessed with apocalyptic fortune, but mountains always rise higher.
“Qi Fengling.”
“Qi Fengling? What a fine name. Brother Qi, will you listen to my story?” This time, Hua Qianhui was sincere, sitting straight.
“...”
“Brother Qi, I’m doomed. Don’t you have the patience for a few words?” Her eyes brimmed with sorrow as the skeletal warriors advanced.
“Well... speak then,” he replied, torn between instinct to kill and conscience urging him to listen.
“Very well! You’re the first to hear my tale and will be the last,” Hua Qianhui’s eyes gleamed—not with hope, but longing.
“My name is Hua Qianhui, a wanton woman as you see. I gave up my true love and willingly married an old man.”
“I just didn’t want to suffer anymore. I hated waking before dawn to work, hated scrubbing filthy toilets, hated washing endless greasy dishes.”
“I despised being the girl with no makeup, no toys, never enough food, no new clothes for New Year. I only wanted to be rich—what’s wrong with that?”
“Hahaha, in the end, I succeeded. I married a famous wealthy merchant in Yun City. I knew he was old, only wanted my body, was a philanderer—but so what?”
“I lived in the city’s most luxurious place—the 34th floor of a skyscraper!”
“But why did this cursed apocalypse come? Why was my comfortable life shattered instantly? Why didn’t that old man prepare enough food? Why did he have to beg for scraps downstairs?”
“Why, when I opened the door, did I see that bastard Ma Zhuang and his gang? Why was that old man gnawing on cheap bread, ignoring my cries?”
“I knew I was cheap. They violated me; my shame died. I felt nothing.”
“But why did they force me to eat that old man’s flesh? Why did they force me to kill? To watch their atrocities?”
“I went mad, yet became more rational. I began eating people willingly, became depraved, believing one day I’d kill them all.”
On the bed, Hua Qianhui grew more agitated, her face flushed, tears mixing sorrow and madness.
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Even the hateful have their pitiable parts.
No wonder Hua Qianhui possessed such a powerful legacy. Her mindset alone was beyond ordinary women.
“Qi Fengling, do you know? You remind me so much of him,” she said, standing trembling, her gaze earnest, as if reaching to touch her own face.
“Go away!” he barked.
“Hahaha, you’re not him. He’d never drive me away,” her words stirred a flicker of clarity, though her eyes soon glazed over.
“Hua Qianhui, if you could live it all over, would you still choose wealth and ease?” Qi Fengling asked, inexplicably compelled.
“...” she paused.
“If that day, he had been firmer, perhaps I’d have been a faithful woman,” she finally whispered.
“Alright, I understand.” Qi Fengling turned away, signaling he wished to avoid witnessing her death by skeletal blade.
“Wait, Brother Qi, don’t you want to hear their story?” Suddenly, Hua Qianhui seemed eager to speak.
As the skeletal warriors withdrew, a story flooded Qi Fengling’s mind.
This was the 14th floor—not Hua Qianhui’s, nor Liu Qiang’s, nor Ma Zhuang’s home—but that of a young couple.
Before the apocalypse, both were enthusiasts, stockpiling thousands of barrels of purified water, countless snacks, and well-preserved vegetables and meats.
Unexpectedly, the apocalypse arrived, yet neither turned into zombies.
Thanks to their ample supplies, they lived a relatively comfortable life.
One day, a man knocked at their door—pitiful, humble—telling of his hunger and cold.
But the man inside refused to open, knowing how treacherous hearts had become after the end.
Despite the stranger’s desperate pleas, repeated countless times, no help came.
Later, more came knocking—strong men, alluring women, elderly—yet none moved the man.
One day, as he cooked for his wife Hanhan, the door knocked again.
...