At dusk, the team returned safely to the safe zone. While handing over supplies and tallying contribution points, Zhao Cheng deliberately pulled Ruan Ning aside.
“Ruan Ning, you did well today. Calm, decisive, and your water-type ability was used just right.” Zhao Cheng rarely offered praise. Then he lowered his voice. “If there are suitable missions in the future, I’ll look for you again. As for the gains… according to the rules, whatever you personally obtain, you handle yourself.”
He cast a meaningful glance toward the pocket where Ruan Ning kept her crystal cores. Clearly, he had noticed her small movements but chose not to expose them—an unspoken form of tacit approval.
In the apocalypse, capable people privately acquiring some spoils was an open secret. As long as it wasn’t excessive or didn’t affect the team’s main objectives, leaders often turned a blind eye.
“Thank you, Brother Zhao,” Ruan Ning replied calmly with a nod.
She knew that this mission had not only yielded two precious crystal cores, but had also earned her preliminary recognition from this fairly capable team—opening a path to obtaining more resources in the future.
Back in Compartment 7 of Area B, she ignored Zhou Min’s probing gaze, Lin Yan’s usual cold indifference, and the obscure glance from the corner. She leaned against her mat, feeling the faint coolness from the two crystal cores in her pocket, her mind completely at ease.
Outbound missions carried both risks and opportunities. But to grow stronger, this path had to be taken. Today’s success was only the first step.
In the safe zone, clean water was always a hard currency—especially for ability users who needed to stay in good condition and frequently ventured out on dangerous missions. Ruan Ning’s stable, “high-quality” water ability soon became an open secret within the small circle of Area B.
That night, after finishing her day’s work and self-training, Ruan Ning had just returned to Compartment 7 and sat down to rest. Lin Yan, who had always been cold toward her, walked over for the first time and placed a small bundle wrapped carefully in oilcloth in front of her.
When opened, it contained two packs of instant noodles and a small coil of tough parachute cord.
“Water,” Lin Yan said curtly. Her voice was still stiff, but her eyes lacked their usual indifference, replaced by the seriousness of a trader. “Drinkable, preferably. And more.” She clearly intended to bring it along on her next mission.
Instant noodles were in short supply, and durable parachute cord had many uses in the wild. Lin Yan’s offer was sincere.
Ruan Ning glanced at the supplies, then at Lin Yan, and nodded without asking questions. She took Lin Yan’s water canteen—a 2-liter military canteen—walked to the corner of the compartment, and turned her back to the others, holding the mouth of the canteen with both hands.
She didn’t deliberately speed up, but the flow of water was steady and fast, producing a crisp sound as it poured in. After a few minutes, the canteen was filled with clear drinking water that carried a faint, fresh scent.
She handed it back to Lin Yan.
Lin Yan took it, unscrewed the lid to sniff it, then cautiously took a small sip. A flicker of satisfaction passed through her eyes.
“Thanks.” She gave Ruan Ning a slight nod, then returned to her bunk with the canteen and her axe.
The transaction was clean and efficient—each got what they needed.
Not long after, Zhou Min approached with a smile. She didn’t take anything out right away but lowered her voice first. “Ruan Ning, I’ve got some information—about areas the military’s next clearing operation might pass through. Plus this piece of chocolate.”
As if performing a magic trick, she pulled out a slightly crumpled but clearly high-end dark chocolate bar from her pocket. “Trade for a canteen of water. How about it? The info is definitely valuable.”
Zhou Min was good at gathering intelligence. Her information often helped people avoid risks or seize opportunities. Chocolate, meanwhile, was a rare luxury in the apocalypse—quick energy and a mental boost.
Ruan Ning looked at her calmly. “Let me hear the general direction of the information first.”
Zhou Min smiled, unsurprised by Ruan Ning’s caution, and quickly whispered the names of two neighborhoods likely to be key targets. Ruan Ning evaluated them swiftly—both were indeed possible, and one was near an area she had previously operated in. The information had a certain degree of credibility.
“Deal,” Ruan Ning agreed. She condensed a canteen of water for Zhou Min.
Zhou Min took the water, stuffed the chocolate into Ruan Ning’s hand, and returned to her spot, contentedly nibbling compressed biscuits with water—clearly satisfied with the trade.
After condensing a considerable amount of water twice in a row, Ruan Ning deliberately showed a hint of fatigue, leaning back against her mat and closing her eyes. This was partly an act, but the exertion was real.
Just then, the most silent figure in the compartment—the hooded woman—moved.
She still didn’t remove her hood. She quietly walked over to Ruan Ning’s bunk and set something down.
It was a black wooden whistle no bigger than a thumb, carved with strange patterns. Its material was unclear, but it felt ancient and cool to the touch.
She said nothing—only pointed at the small whistle, then at the water canteen beside Ruan Ning.
Ruan Ning opened her eyes and looked at the whistle, her brow slightly furrowed. She couldn’t sense any energy fluctuations from it, but the inexplicable aura it emitted made her feel it wasn’t an ordinary object.
“What is this?” Ruan Ning asked.
The hooded woman remained silent and shook her head, indicating she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say. She stubbornly pointed at the canteen again.
Ruan Ning stared at her for a few seconds, then at the black wooden whistle. Her intuition told her this item might not be simple—at the very least, it wasn’t as useless as it looked.
“Alright,” Ruan Ning finally decided. She condensed about half a canteen of water and handed it to the hooded woman.
The hooded woman took the water without looking at Ruan Ning and quickly returned to her dark corner, curling back up as if nothing had happened.
The black wooden whistle remained on Ruan Ning’s bunk.
Ruan Ning picked it up. It was icy to the touch, and the carvings seemed to follow some kind of pattern. She tried blowing into it gently—no sound came out.
“Interesting,” Ruan Ning murmured, putting it away. Whether it was useful or not, trading half a canteen of water for an unknown item that might carry secrets wasn’t a bad deal in the apocalypse.
The compartment fell silent again.
But after these exchanges, the relationships among the four seemed to have shifted subtly.
A fragile bond of “cooperation,” based on practical interests and mutual needs, had quietly formed in the silence.
Ruan Ning knew—this was only the beginning.