After returning to her room, Jiang Mo burst into tears. Tears streamed down in big drops, her nose turning red, and the pain in her palm made her delicate brows knit tightly together.
She should’ve just slashed harder.
Hurt the enemy a thousand, lose eight hundred herself.
“It hurts so much… sob… I want to go home… Mom…” Jiang Mo cried as she rummaged through her things, searching for iodine. Her little face was scrunched up from crying, eyes red and swollen.
She didn’t want to stay here anymore.
She wanted to go home.
Home.
Knock knock knock—
Someone knocked on the door. Jiang Mo stopped what she was doing and went to open it.
It was Jiang Zhe. He held a bottle of iodine. “I figured you don’t really have friends here, so I came to help.”
“Thank you,” Jiang Mo said politely, refusing, “I can handle it myself.”
Jiang Zhe looked at her tear-streaked face. The girl was stunningly beautiful—the kind that amazed people at a glance, yet the more you looked, the more captivating she became. Her bright, clear eyes looked innocent and pitiful, red from crying. And yet she insisted she was fine—a little crybaby, but stubborn too.
Jiang Mo didn’t know why he was staring at her, but she didn’t like it, even if there was no malice.
“Your hand is injured. How can you handle it yourself? You probably can’t even pick out the glass shards. Let me help—I’ve studied some nursing.”
As he spoke, he tried to step inside.
Jiang Mo blocked the doorway without yielding at all. “No need. I can do it myself. And we’re not familiar.”
“Sorry, I overstepped.” Jiang Zhe took a step back, though his gaze still lingered.
She was too beautiful. Fragile and soft-looking, yet when pushed to the edge, her sharp reaction made her even more interesting. At first, he thought she was just a pampered rich girl, but after interacting with her, he found her personality surprisingly appealing.
Anything Jiang Zhe set his sights on—he always got.
“Then take this,” he said, handing her the iodine. “Think of it as mutual help between colleagues. In a situation like this, we all need to rely on each other.”
Jiang Mo didn’t take it. She stepped back, increasing the distance. “Thank you, but I don’t need it.”
Bang.
She shut the door—not exactly politely.
A man showing kindness to a girl for no reason—there was usually some motive behind it.
Jiang Mo sniffled and turned toward the living room.
Outside, Jiang Zhe touched his nose, which had nearly been hit by the door, and smiled.
Pretty cautious.
That temper won’t be easy to handle.
But there’s nothing much to do in this hotel—he had time.
Inside the room.
Tears kept dripping onto the carpet. Through blurred vision, Jiang Mo looked at the iodine on the coffee table. She sniffled, picked up a pair of tweezers, and examined her palm—it was a mess of blood and flesh.
She wiped her eyes with a tissue, then carefully began picking out the glass shards.
“Hiss—”
“Ah… ah…”
It hurt so much.
Sob…
Why hasn’t he come yet…
After removing the shards, she poured iodine onto the wound and applied it with a cotton swab, then wrapped it in bandages.
Once she finished, she leaned back on the sofa and let out a long breath. Staring at the crystal chandelier above, the bitterness and grievance in her heart didn’t fade. She had cried too much these past two days—her eyes felt dry.
She pulled a pillow into her arms and buried her face in it. Her head felt heavy, and she didn’t want to move. After lying there for a while, she fell asleep.
Jiang Mo hadn’t eaten dinner. When she woke up, it was already late at night. The late autumn air was cold, making her shiver.
She slipped on her slippers and got off the sofa, her body unsteady, her head spinning.
She touched her forehead.
A fever.
She quickly swallowed a fever reducer and applied a cooling patch, then staggered toward the bedroom. But instead of going straight to bed, she crouched by the floor-to-ceiling window and looked at the building across.
The green mist had risen to the sixth floor.
Below it, visibility was completely blocked. But since the power hadn’t gone out yet, many rooms in the opposite building were still lit—and she could clearly see the walls covered with densely packed zombies clinging to them.
Strange.
Why were the zombies climbing the walls? It seemed wherever the green mist spread, the zombies followed.
Wrapped in a blanket, Jiang Mo shivered from the fever, forcing herself to stay awake.
Outside, the loudspeaker crackled again, repeating the same message from last night.
Jiang Mo wasn’t from this city—she didn’t know where the Third Military District Hospital was. Even if she wanted to go, she couldn’t do it alone. She’d have to cooperate with others.
But she still didn’t know if the broadcast was real or fake.
She used her phone to record the message and took several photos of the zombies.
After leaving evidence, she returned to bed and fell asleep.
Early the next morning, she was jolted awake by loud banging on the door. Her head still felt heavy as she patted it and shuffled toward the door in her slippers.
The wooden door shook violently under the pounding.
Standing behind it, Jiang Mo called weakly, “What do you want?”
The noise outside paused. After a moment, Yan Ting’s cool voice came through. “Jiang Mo, we’ve been calling you for a while. We thought you had fainted.”
Yan Ting had only learned about yesterday’s argument that morning. When she didn’t see Jiang Mo come out to eat, she grew worried and brought people to break the door open.
Jiang Mo’s voice was thick with congestion. Her fever hadn’t gone down, and she had no energy to deal with anyone. She didn’t open the door. “I’m fine. Don’t call me.”
After saying that, she stood there for a few minutes. Once everything outside was quiet, she went to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of bread and a bottle of water, and crouched by the window, eating slowly.
She didn’t leave her room the entire day.
The next day, it was her group’s turn on duty. She forced herself out of bed, though her body still felt weak.
Huang Yuan looked even worse. It was unclear whether she had treated her wound—her face was already festering, which looked disgusting.
The others instinctively kept their distance—even those who used to treat her like a close friend.
Huang Yuan glared at Jiang Mo with venomous hatred, as if she wanted to kill her on the spot.
In contrast, Jiang Mo, aside from looking pale and weak, seemed otherwise fine.
Huang Yuan was assigned to guard the glass window on the 14th floor. Jiang Mo swept the kitchen.
With her injured hand, she couldn’t grip the broom properly—it slipped from her hand several times.
Yan Ting watched her quietly. The girl looked pale, unsteady, and weak—like she might collapse at any moment.
She couldn’t help but speak. “You can accept my help, at least for now.”
She knew Jiang Mo had been affected by what people said. Some girls had been calling her “princess syndrome,” useless, good for nothing but crying—others called her ruthless, a butcher. A pretty girl, yet when she acted, she nearly killed someone.
Human nature was like that. When things were good, people would praise you endlessly. But the moment things went downhill, they’d push you into the abyss.
Jiang Mo had grown up pampered—she had never experienced anything like this. The fact that she could still remain composed now already showed strength.
Yan Ting continued, “I was sent by Mr. Lu. He told me to help you when necessary.”
Jiang Mo’s movements paused. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she held them back.
“No need,” she said softly. “It’s the apocalypse now… promises don’t mean anything anymore.”