After waking up, Le Huan found herself lying on the sofa, still a little dazed. 66 spoke nervously:
“Le Huan, what did you dream about?”
This was bad, really bad. The fluctuation of energy had caused a temporary error, sending Le Huan’s consciousness back to a certain point in the real world. At that very moment, the real Le Huan was lying in a hospital bed, her body covered in tubes. If she noticed something, it would be a disaster.
But Le Huan didn’t notice anything. She only felt that the dream had been extremely real, and it made her want to go home even more.
“66, how much goodwill do I still need before I can go home?”
“Two-fourths.”
Even returning home herself wasn’t enough yet, so there was definitely no way to bring Zhao Yan along. She had originally thought that if possible, she might barely manage to take him with her. Thinking of Zhao Yan, she felt a rare trace of guilt. At worst, before leaving, she would treat him a bit better—then he wouldn’t be at a loss.
Coming back to her senses, she saw that the sun had already set, and the sky was growing dark. Suddenly remembering something, Le Huan hurried upstairs and looked into the mirror.
—Her face had become even smoother and more translucent. Her eyes sparkled, filled with a lively glow, as if they could speak. Her skin had turned even more delicate and fair, as though she had just bathed in milk. Her lips were soft and rosy, and the swelling from the morning had completely disappeared.
Le Huan absolutely adored her appearance.
She stroked herself lovingly. “This young lady is too beautiful. I’m almost jealous of Zhao Yan.”
66 rolled its eyes. It had never seen someone so narcissistic. There wasn’t even a bit of softness on her body—what was so beautiful about that?
She lay on the bed, happily admiring herself in the mirror, when suddenly she heard hurried footsteps pounding up the stairs. The door was flung open.
—Zhao Yan had returned.
Seeing his flustered appearance, Le Huan felt displeased. “Why are you running? And you didn’t even knock—do you know you scared me?!”
Zhao Yan felt relieved when he saw her at home. He had been worried she might have run off alone again. Seeing her sitting safely on the bed finally put him at ease.
But then he noticed something was off.
Le Huan looked like a spirit—before, she had already been beautiful, but now her beauty made it impossible to look away. Every frown and glance carried a bewitching charm. The way she widened her eyes and glared at him now held three parts annoyance and seven parts allure.
She was becoming more beautiful with each passing day, as if there were no limit. At the same time, he felt himself falling more deeply in love with her day by day. A sense of fear rose in his heart.
Could he really stay with someone like her forever?
Zhao Yan stepped forward and suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace, his words tumbling out incoherently:
“Don’t leave me. You can do anything you want—just don’t leave me…”
He felt that Le Huan might be like the monsters described in novels. Such beings always possessed extraordinary beauty and a kind of innocent ignorance of the world.
Thinking back to when he first met her, there had been many suspicious points. She couldn’t clearly explain her origins, and she knew nothing about what had happened over the past five years. She lacked even basic life knowledge—she could barely take care of herself.
Could a beautiful young girl survive alone in the apocalypse for five years?
Obviously not.
So the Yu family’s daughter must have been devoured, replaced by Le Huan.
There was also the matter of Jiang Jingfeng, a grown man being knocked unconscious by her—something was clearly off. But Zhao Yan hadn’t asked at the time, nor did he want to. More accurately, he didn’t dare to ask.
In novels, when monsters were exposed, they would always leave.
Zhao Yan couldn’t bear the possibility of Le Huan leaving, so he chose to act as if he knew nothing.
Why would such a powerful “monster” stay by his side? Was it because she wanted to absorb his vital essence? Monsters were said to feed on human essence. That explained why she ate so little at meals—human food was useless to her!
Zhao Yan felt he had uncovered the truth.
He decided that from now on, he would train hard and take care of his body, so that Le Huan wouldn’t need to draw energy from others.
Le Huan had no idea what Zhao Yan was thinking. His expressions changed rapidly, but she couldn’t be bothered to figure him out. She pushed him lightly, telling him to hurry up and cook.
Zhao Yan stared at her face, entranced. What kind of monster was she? A cat spirit? A fox spirit? A flower spirit?
No matter what she was, as long as she was Le Huan, she was adorable.
He wasn’t afraid at all—only more self-conscious. Monsters had long lifespans; a human life was nothing more than a fleeting moment to them. With her appearance, Le Huan must be exceptional even among monsters. Aside from his “vital essence,” he felt he had nothing worth offering her.
Watching him alternate between smiling and looking dejected, Le Huan secretly wondered if he had developed a split personality after going out.
“What’s this?” she asked, holding up two thumbs.
Zhao Yan came back to his senses and replied helplessly, “Ten.”
Mm. At least he wasn’t stupid.
Zhao Yan couldn’t resist kissing her before heading downstairs to cook.
During dinner, Zhao Yan mentioned that the mutated zombies seemed abnormal. Blue-black veins had surfaced across their bodies and even burst open. They were also more agile than ordinary zombies. They would need to go on a few more missions to investigate—it seemed like an evolution. Chen Youyu and his mentor were already taking it very seriously and had begun research.
Le Huan didn’t care. As long as the base was well-guarded and she was safe, that was enough. What dissatisfied her was that Zhao Yan had to go on missions frequently. It wasn’t that she couldn’t bear to part with him—after all, she saw him every day. The real issue was that Zhao Yan refused to give her a gun and explicitly forbade her from going out.
It had been a long time since Zhao Yan had rejected her like this. 66 earnestly tried to persuade her, saying it was for her own good. That only made Le Huan more dissatisfied—no matter the reason, it was still a refusal.
66 felt helpless. The world was in chaos now—she could simply stay at home and accumulate goodwill points, yet she insisted on going out and causing trouble. She hadn’t even gathered enough energy to return home; if she kept this up, she might lose everything she had saved. And Le Huan had a personality that attracted trouble—whenever she was unhappy, she acted directly. No amount of energy would be enough for her to waste.
Zhao Yan clearly understood her temperament as well. Even unarmed, she could knock Jiang Jingfeng down. If she had a gun, wouldn’t she go out and shoot people one by one? Zhao Yan believed she was fully capable of that.
There was another reason—Le Huan attracted too much attention. Though she was powerful, there was always the possibility that someone might be tempted by her beauty and act in a group. Zhao Yan couldn’t tolerate even the slightest chance of her being harmed.
Le Huan threw down her chopsticks and stopped eating, sitting to the side in silent anger.
Zhao Yan knew she was upset. Seeing that she had stopped eating, he worried she might go hungry.
He walked over to her, gently lifted her chin—
and kissed her.