She doesn’t know anyway!

Song Ning sat in the center of the bathroom on a chair and turned on the shower.

The base in City A was still mostly functional. It had a steady power supply and resource extraction zone. But while electricity had been partially restored, lower-tier personnel still didn’t have access to such luxuries.

It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed such a comfortable hot shower.

The warm water poured over her body, streaming across her skin. She gently ran her hands over her fair complexion, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

Steam filled the bathroom like a gauzy veil, cloaking every corner in a dreamlike haze. The ceiling above trembled ever so slightly.

“Song Ning… Song Ning…”

A thin tendril—barely visible—dangled down behind her head, blending seamlessly into the misty air thanks to its camouflage.

It brushed lightly against her bare back.

Her body jolted like it had been shocked. She gasped and whipped her head around.

What was that?

She stared for a long time, eyes wide, unmoving. Nothing.

She had already closed all the curtains and windows before showering. There was no way anyone could toss something in as a prank.

Was it just her imagination?

Song Ning rubbed her temples. Maybe she was just too on edge lately.

She squeezed some shampoo into her palm and wet her long, smooth black hair, massaging it gently.

From above, hidden tendrils brushed lightly against her skin.

Her arm… brushed again.

She scratched it. Why did it keep feeling itchy? Was it because she hadn’t bathed in a while?

Up on the ceiling, several tendrils lay spread out like an octopus, camouflaged perfectly against the surface. No one could tell anything was off.

Ping Chengcheng’s eyes glowed faintly. She licked her lips excitedly as she slowly lowered herself from the ceiling, silent and hidden behind a veil of mimicry that matched the bathroom tiles perfectly.

She checked her hands under the light. Aside from a faint distortion along the edge, there was almost no difference between her and the wall behind her. The mist in the room helped hide even that.

Her bare feet stepped lightly onto the wet floor, making barely a sound. Song Ning had her eyes closed while washing her hair, softly humming the tune to “Love Should Be Honest.”

Despite the cheerful lyrics, her voice had a clear and somewhat distant tone.

Ping Chengcheng had heard her singing that song often lately. She liked it too now.

But in her heart, she thought only Song Ning sounded truly good singing it. There was a kind of sweetness in her tone that no one else could match.

Feeling unusually giddy, she reached out a hand toward the girl’s glistening back.

Her touch was featherlight. Song Ning scratched her back absentmindedly, looking a bit irritated.

She was the kind of person who liked to stay clean—she definitely couldn’t stand having bugs or dirt on her. She’d need a proper scrub-down after this.

Ping Chengcheng stared at her delicate form and began to feel light-headed. Her legs felt weak, her thoughts unsteady.

‘Why… why do I feel this way?’

She clenched her thighs uncomfortably, making a faint sound against the wet floor.

Song Ning’s humming abruptly stopped—then resumed as if nothing had happened.

But she could feel it—someone was behind her.

Pretending to hum, with her eyes closed and shampoo still in her hair, she tried to stay calm. But every hair on her body stood on end. ‘Who is it?’

Ping Chengcheng was struggling. She couldn’t suppress the strange tension inside her anymore—but she couldn’t leave either.

If she left now, she’d definitely be discovered. She bit her lip, returned to the ceiling, and let thick tendrils secure her back in place. Breathing heavily, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm her thoughts.

‘Sister…’

She kept her breathing quiet, her skin starting to bead with sweat.

Song Ning, still beneath the shower, caught a faint scent in the air.

It was strange—tinged with warmth and something inexplicably intimate. It made her flush all over.

‘What… is this feeling?’

She quickly rinsed the shampoo from her eyes and spun around.

Nothing. Just the tiled wall.

‘What the hell was that!? I swear someone was behind me!’

Was it just another hallucination from spending too long in this post-apocalyptic world?

Or was she finally losing it?

She scanned the room again. Then her eyes fell on a storage box.

It was small—far too small for a grown adult to hide in. But maybe someone with a smaller build, like Ping Chengcheng…

Frowning, Song Ning pulled out the pistol she kept in her spare pants pocket. With careful steps and sharp eyes, she approached the box. One hand raised the gun, the other yanked the lid open.

Nothing. No one.

But… why were there so many clothes inside?

She put the pistol away, puzzled.

Up above, Ping Chengcheng’s heart nearly stopped as she watched. Her face burned.

Those were her clothes in that box!

Song Ning recognized them instantly.

Weren’t those… Ping Chengcheng’s? What were they doing here?

The hot water kept spraying. Warm mist filled the space. Song Ning felt dizzy, her body heating up uncomfortably.

‘What’s wrong with me?’

Compelled by something she couldn’t explain, she reached into the pile of clothes and picked up a pair of pink underwear.

Soft, small… and carrying a faint scent she found strangely comforting.

Her breathing grew rapid. Her legs weakened beneath her.

She sank back into the chair beneath the shower and turned the water to cold, trying to collect herself—but her hand still clutched that small piece of clothing tightly.

Her eyes darted about the room. Again and again, she told herself this wasn’t right. She and Ping Chengcheng—yes, they were together now, but this… this wasn’t normal.

If Ping Chengcheng ever found out, what would she think?

She’d be disgusted. She’d never look at her the same again.

After all…

To Song Ning, Ping Chengcheng was still a sweet, innocent girl. Even though the apocalypse had changed them both, she still saw her as someone gentle and pure. She remembered how just a pat on the head or a hug would make her blush and smile.

How could she be doing something like this?

And yet…

Her body felt like it had a mind of its own, filled with a craving she couldn’t place.

Was this… a side effect of her mutation?

On the ceiling, Ping Chengcheng could barely hold her disguise. She trembled with suppressed emotion, her small body squirming against the strain.

A single drop of moisture—carried on her breath and the cool mist—fell from above and landed on Song Ning’s nose.

The scent overwhelmed her.

In that moment, something inside her snapped.

After all…

Ping Chengcheng didn’t know.