Why did I really sleep in the girls’ dormitory?

The night wind chilled the heart.

After parting with Zhao Sanyan, Ren Anhua felt a quiet emptiness.

She didn’t know when—or if—they would ever meet again.

Before, even though Zhao Sanyan had gone off on his own, at least Ren Anhua had known where he was.

But now it was different. Zhao Sanyan wasn’t going to Su City, and he had to avoid the military. He’d probably end up drifting through the countryside, living like a vagabond.

He had always been someone who cared deeply about the future—yet now he had taken the path of a stray dog. The thought made Ren Anhua sigh.

She made a silent promise to herself: if she ever got the chance, she’d clear his name. Or, if she managed to build her own faction one day, she’d find him again—the friend who had once lent her a helping hand when she needed it most.

Of course, that was all talk for the future.

For now, Ren Anhua could barely protect herself.

Thinking about the future required living long enough to reach it. And by then—would she still be free? Would Zhao Sanyan still be alive? That was anyone’s guess.

All she could do now was silently wish him a safe journey—and then find somewhere decent to spend the night.

By the time she met Zhao Sanyan, it had already been dusk. The sky darkened completely not long after.

In the apocalypse, nighttime was never a good time for humans to be out.

Unable to move forward and unable to find a new path in the dark, Ren Anhua’s group had no choice but to retrace their route and look for a house to stay in overnight.

Three vehicles turned off onto a service road, then down a side path that led into a rural area.

The land near Lifeng County was mostly deserted and quiet. It had never been prosperous, and the land was cheap—so it was easy enough to find small villages like this. In the apocalypse, such places often made excellent resting points.

The country roads were narrow and uneven—thin layers of cement barely covering old mud paths, without guardrails on either side. Driving along them felt like traveling between cliffs, the wheels constantly flirting with danger.

Luckily, their drivers were skilled enough not to overturn any of the cars.

In rural areas, though, the real danger was other humans.

With few people around and each household walled off, surviving here was much easier than in towns or cities.

As long as one hadn’t turned into a zombie at the very beginning—and didn’t go out looking for trouble—life wasn’t impossible.

Most families had stored some grain.

If they stayed put, living off what they had, they could survive for two months or more before starving.

Of course, some people had given up early—like Aunt Qian, who had simply taken her own life. But as long as there was still food, most people hadn’t reached that point yet.

And if they raided nearby houses, their supplies could last even longer.

In short, if there were still wild survivors left anywhere, the countryside was the place to find them.

The team moved forward in high alert, wary that someone might suddenly jump out yelling for a robbery.

Ren Anhua was alert too—but not out of fear. She was hoping for something to happen. She wanted to test a new idea she’d come up with.

Unfortunately, no one appeared.

The only movement came from a few wandering zombies—ordinary ones, barely even first-tier.

Ren Anhua cut them down with a flick of her blade.

Eventually, the group parked all three vehicles in front of a slightly larger courtyard home.

The gate wasn’t locked—probably because the residents had fled in a hurry. The key was still dangling from the latch.

Convenient for Ren Anhua and her group.

Tang Yunxuan felt a quiet joy—finally, a real bed, with a blanket to cover himself.

He hadn’t realized before that human happiness could be so simple.

After locking the gate, they divided tasks and discussed night watch arrangements.

Only Liu Weimin stayed by the car, tinkering with something.

“What’s that?” Ren Anhua asked curiously, eyeing the small glass bottle in his hand. Inside was a thin layer of greasy, transparent liquid.

“Mustard gas—with a little private recipe of mine,” Liu Weimin replied, fixing the bottle to the seat and tying a string around its cap. He lowered the car window, pinched the other end of the string between the glass, and rolled the window up tight.

That way, if anyone opened the car door during the night, the string would pull the cap loose and release the liquid mustard gas—poisoning the intruder almost instantly.

Watching this simple but deadly trap, Ren Anhua felt a chill. She’d heard of mustard gas before.

“What if one of us accidentally triggers it?”

“I’ll open the door myself in the morning,” Liu Weimin said calmly. “You can all wait behind me. And if anyone really does try breaking in tonight, don’t worry. Even if you inhale some, you won’t die in your sleep—it’ll wake you up in pain. I can treat it if that happens. Besides, you’re here too.”

He smiled faintly.

“And as long as the windows stay sealed, the chance of poisoning is very low. So don’t worry about it. No need for anyone to keep watch tonight.”

That actually eased everyone’s nerves.

Standing guard at night was exhausting. Even Chen Shu wanted a good rest for once.

Their main concern had been looters—people who’d destroy supplies out of spite if they couldn’t steal them. It wasn’t common, but it happened, and when it did, it was devastating.

So even if the trap handled the defense, the supplies still had to be secured.

Chen Shu’s squad carried most of their key resources—food, fuel, and weapons—inside the house.

The rest was left in the vehicles, too heavy or disorganized to move.

In terms of wealth, Chen Shu’s squad was relatively well-off.

Food, gasoline, weapons—these were the most precious resources for ordinary survivors.

For ability users, though, one more thing mattered above all: crystal cores.

The house had clearly been empty for two months. Everything inside was covered in a layer of dust—reassuring, in a way, since it meant they weren’t taking someone else’s shelter.

After some quick cleaning, they cleared two bedrooms to use as makeshift sleeping quarters.

It wasn’t bad—but a new problem quickly came up.

There were seven people in total—four men and three women.

Normally, that would make dividing rooms simple.

But Ren Anhua, ever self-conscious about her gender, wanted to sleep on the men’s side.

Still, the double beds were roomy enough for three—four would be cramped, and five impossible without someone sleeping on the floor.

In the end, she had to share a bed with Liu Shi and Shen Dinghui.

She reluctantly agreed.

At least, she told herself, both women were attractive. If anything, she was the one taking advantage.

It was strange, though—this was the first time she’d ever shared a bed with women purely as companions.

In her past life, she’d only ever loved one woman: Lin Aijing. But Lin Aijing had been an undercover agent planted to spy on her—there had never been any chance of intimacy.

After the apocalypse, Ren Anhua’s strength and status had brought women to her bed—but that had been a different kind of thing entirely.

Those women had been submissive, fearful.

Nothing like the two lively girls she was with now.

“Xiao An, why aren’t you taking your clothes off to sleep?” Shen Dinghui asked playfully, though her hands were already tugging at Ren Anhua’s sleeve.

“I like sleeping in clothes, alright?” Ren Anhua said, wary—she’d been expecting something like this from the mischievous girl.

“But your clothes are dirty. We even picked out some cute ones for you earlier.”

“I said no. These are fine.”

“Come on, this hoodie’s filthy. Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable? You’d look adorable in something clean—maybe something with open shoulders.”

“It’s not an off-shoulder top…” Ren Anhua glanced down and realized, reluctantly, that the clothes really were in bad shape.

Besides, it was getting close to ten.

She needed to get to bed soon—otherwise, things could get… troublesome.

“You guys go ahead and sleep first. I’ll take it off when I get in bed.”

The truth was, the real reason she didn’t want to undress was because of the small device strapped to her thigh—a little box that would be very awkward to explain if they saw it.

She’d thought of ways to deal with it before, but never followed through.

It could be removed easily enough by force—but then how would she use the bathroom?

The thing wrapped tightly around her lower body, making it impossible to take her clothes off normally.

If she tore it off, she’d end up wetting herself every time she needed to pee.

So, humiliating as it was, she had to keep it.

No matter how much she denied her new body, she wasn’t about to torture herself over basic needs.

But if anyone saw it, they’d definitely get the wrong idea.

And explaining it? Incomprehensibly embarrassing.

A healthy adult needing a tube to urinate—she couldn’t even bring herself to say it aloud.

So she refused to let anyone see it.

Even though there were no electric lights, flashlights still worked—and Shen Dinghui was the curious type who’d absolutely want to peek.

Under Ren Anhua’s firm insistence, Shen Dinghui reluctantly crawled into bed first.

It was dark anyway; she couldn’t see anything.

Still, she regretted not getting to peek under that hoodie she’d always been curious about.

But fine—if she couldn’t see, she could always feel.

Shen Dinghui wasn’t giving up that easily.

Ren Anhua saw it coming and deliberately climbed in next to Liu Shi, putting a whole person between them.

Shen Dinghui could only sulk and secretly hide Ren Anhua’s hoodie under the bed—so she’d have to wear the cute clothes tomorrow.

Compared to the quiet battle of the women’s room, the men’s side was much calmer.

A blanket tossed over their bodies was luxury enough. In the apocalypse, sleeping in your clothes was nothing unusual.

Of course, Shen Dinghui had only been curious—Ren Anhua had guessed right. The girl just wanted to see what she wore underneath.

Night deepened.

The team fell silent again.

Only one person still lay awake—Tang Yunxuan.

He couldn’t help but think:

Why did Brother Anhua actually go sleep in the girls’ room?