Night.
The room was unbearably hot.
The two people inside were like dry kindling meeting a raging fire.
The man was trying to restrain himself, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead one after another, his expression gradually slipping out of control.
The woman’s feverish body tossed and turned.
Her clothes were completely soaked through.
Her graceful figure was utterly alluring.
Her breathy moans echoed through the room like a melodious tune, stirring the hearts of those who heard them.
……
Su Qiao felt someone pressing down on her, tearing at her clothes.
Like a crazed beast.
……
Her head hurt.
It felt as though someone was slowly twisting a blunt, rusted chisel inside her skull.
Su Qiao struggled to lift her eyelids. It took half a second for her blurred vision to refocus.
What came into view was an unfamiliar earthen ceiling, thick with the heavy smell of mildew. Dim light squeezed through a small paper-covered window, casting tiny beams of dust-filled light into the air.
This was not the apocalyptic fortress she knew.
There were no alloy walls, no electronic alarms.
Lingering beneath the smell of mildew was another scent—a mixture of sweat and some cheap soap, an unfamiliar masculine scent.
Her heart tightened. Keeping her neck stiff, she slowly turned her head.
A man was lying beside her.
He was sleeping deeply, his breathing steady and strong, like a precisely functioning machine.
The contours of his profile looked especially rugged in the morning light. From his high, straight nose to his tightly pressed thin lips and sharply defined jawline, every inch of him radiated an intimidating strength that brooked no intrusion.
Covering the two of them was a thin quilt, washed so many times that it had turned white and was patched in several places.
The quilt barely reached his chest, revealing wheat-colored skin and a strong, clean-cut collarbone.
Farther down, the smooth lines of his muscular body disappeared beneath the quilt, brimming with explosive strength.
Su Qiao’s mind raced.
This wasn’t the apocalypse.
And this body wasn’t hers either.
The moment she reached that conclusion, a mass of memories that did not belong to her surged into her mind like a breached flood.
The original owner was also named Su Qiao, an eighteen-year-old girl who had been treated as a human blood bank by her uncle’s family. They had plotted to sell her to an unmarried old bachelor from the neighboring village in exchange for a bride price.
To resist, she had listened to her cousin’s “brilliant idea” and slipped some medicine into both her own drink and that of the man she had been set up to meet—the one supposedly with “excellent conditions.”
The medicine had come from a folk remedy obtained from the village barefoot doctor.
And it had worked remarkably well.
Su Qiao, leader of the “Blood Thorn” mercenary group in the apocalypse, had been blown to pieces in an explosion during a zombie horde attack, only to transmigrate into the body of this unfortunate girl who shared her name.
She had become the female lead who had been sent into bed as part of this absurd scheme.
Good grief.
Su Qiao cursed inwardly.
Now this was exciting.
She was still processing the enormous amount of information when the man beside her moved.
There was almost none of the usual grogginess of someone just waking up. His long lashes lifted, revealing a pair of pitch-black eyes that immediately fixed on her, as deep and still as two bottomless ancient wells.
There was no surprise or panic, only an almost scrutinizing calm.
“You’re awake?”
His voice was low, carrying a hint of huskiness from sleep, yet every word was clear, striking the heart like the tap of a small hammer.
Su Qiao did not answer immediately.
She sat up, and the thin quilt covering her slipped from her smooth shoulders, revealing a large expanse of delicate skin and several conspicuous, ambiguous red marks beneath her collarbone.
Against her fair skin, the marks looked like red plum blossoms blooming across a snowy field, startlingly vivid.
The man’s gaze lingered on her collarbone for a second. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, so quickly that it was almost impossible to catch.
Su Qiao calmly gathered the quilt around herself, wrapping herself tightly before lifting her exquisitely beautiful face. Her tone carried a hint of deliberate distance and wariness.
“Who are you?”
“Gu Changfeng.”
The man uttered three words, concise and to the point.
He sat up as well, completely unconcerned about his bare upper body. The strong, solid muscles of his waist and abdomen tightened with his movement, forming elegant curves.
He threw off the quilt and got out of bed, picking up a neatly folded set of olive-green clothes from the chair nearby.
A military uniform.
He dressed with the efficiency of someone carrying out a military operation. First, he put on a white shirt and buttoned it one button at a time. Then he put on his military trousers, and finally the crisp military jacket.
Every movement was rhythmic and powerful.
Once fully dressed, the ambiguous atmosphere in the room seemed to be swept away by the stern righteousness emanating from him.
He had transformed into a broad-shouldered, long-legged military officer with an imposing presence.
Finally, he fastened his web belt with a crisp metallic click.
The sound reminded Su Qiao of the noise of a bullet being chambered back in the apocalypse.
“Get up.” He adjusted his collar without looking back at her. “Come with me.”
Su Qiao narrowed her beautiful, alluring eyes.
So this was the unfortunate man from the blind date in her memories?
The “marriage falling from the heavens” her aunt had talked about—a high-ranking officer in the military.
A regimental commander, Gu Changfeng.
The original owner’s memories contained only these few words about him.
She slowly lifted the quilt and, without any hesitation, began putting on the clothes scattered beside the bed.
A floral calico shirt and faded blue trousers.
This body was young and had an enviable figure. Even in such plain, old-fashioned clothes, they could not conceal her alluring curves.
As she buttoned her shirt, she spoke in a husky voice naturally tinged with charm.
“Well, this is quite a way to wake up.”
Her tone was as casual as if she were commenting on the weather, rather than discussing the shocking fact that she had spent the night with a strange man.
Gu Changfeng’s hand paused briefly as he fastened his belt, but he did not turn around or respond.
Su Qiao put on her shoes, stood up, and stretched her still somewhat sore body.
She walked behind him and looked at his broad, upright back. The military uniform made the lines of his shoulders and back look even more dependable.
Like a mountain.
She tilted her head and suddenly asked again, “Commander Gu, it’s not even fully light out yet. What are you taking me somewhere for?”
The man walking ahead stopped.
He finally turned around and looked directly at her.
The morning light outlined his handsome profile. His expression remained impassive, but something seemed to surge rapidly within his dark eyes before he forcibly suppressed it.
He looked at her, his thin lips parting to utter two words.
Those two words were as cold as shards of ice, striking Su Qiao’s ears.
“Get married.”
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
Su Qiao was stunned, then the corners of her lips curved into an intensely captivating smile.
Her face was already strikingly beautiful, and when she smiled like this, she looked like a poppy suddenly blooming in the darkness, carrying a deadly allure.
Her eyes were filled with amusement, as though she had just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world.
“Get married?”
She stepped closer, the tip of her nose almost touching his solid chest. Tilting her face up, she spoke softly, her breath fragrant.
“Just because we spent one night together?”