The truth?

Night fell, and Ping Chengcheng opened two boxes of self-heating hot pot, preparing them as tonight’s dinner with Song Ning.

In the living room, the girl and the young woman sat close together at the table.

The girl narrowed her eyes and rested her head lightly on the young woman’s shoulder.

Off to the side, Wu Sheng looked at the self-heating hot pot with envy and slurped down some saliva.

But when he lowered his head, all he saw was the plain white rice in his hands.

With a sigh, he slipped back into his bedroom.

Having food at all was already good enough.

Two or three minutes later, the lid of the self-heating hot pot was lifted.

The aroma spread out as the red oil inside bubbled and churned, making Song Ning swallow involuntarily.

So fragrant…

The girl had traded half a bag of rice through Wu Sheng to get this.

Song Ning liked spicy food, and the girl remembered that before the apocalypse, Song Ning would add a bit of chili to almost everything she ate.

Unfortunately, the girl herself wasn’t good at eating chili — even a little would make her break out in a sweat.

The young woman tilted her head to look at Ping Chengcheng, a trace of doubt in her eyes.

‘Why does it always feel like Ping Chengcheng knows her so well?

Lately, every meal has been exactly to her taste.’

‘Is it just coincidence?

Or is it that the girl’s preferences just happen to match hers?

Could it really be that much of a coincidence?’

“Sister, should I feed you~?”

Seeing that Song Ning hadn’t moved her chopsticks and was instead looking at her, Ping Chengcheng tilted her head and asked.

“No need.”

Song Ning snapped out of her daze and quickly refused.

Song Ning picked up the rice that came with the self-heating hot pot and began eating.

To be honest, for a self-heating hot pot, the taste wasn’t particularly great, but she hadn’t eaten anything spicy in a long time, so she was quite satisfied.

When she glanced at the girl beside her, she found that she was only eating rice plainly, occasionally picking up a slice of meat from the hot pot — only to stick out her tender, pink tongue and say “So spicy!” from the heat.

Song Ning thought the spiciness was still a bit mild.

Why was Ping Chengcheng so afraid of spicy food?

Then why make a self-heating hot pot at all?

“Chengcheng, are you afraid of spicy food?”

Song Ning’s tone was teasing as she tested the waters.

Ping Chengcheng gulped down a large mouthful of mineral water, caught her breath, and sniffled.

“Aiya… I just didn’t expect it to be this spicy.

I’ve never eaten it before.”

“But I don’t really like spicy food.”

Don’t like it?

Song Ning pondered this.

“Is Chengcheng stupid?

If you don’t like it, why suddenly buy a self-heating hot pot to eat?”

Song Ning chuckled softly and flicked the girl’s forehead with her finger.

The girl covered her forehead and looked at Song Ning with innocent eyes.

“Sister… I was just wondering if you’d like it… Sister, do you think it tastes good?”

Ping Chengcheng suddenly realized that just now, Song Ning had been trying to get her to slip up.

‘Hmph… stupid sister, trying to get me to reveal something.

No way that’s happening!’

“Mm… it’s pretty good. I like it.”

Song Ning had the feeling the girl wasn’t telling the truth.

There had been too many coincidences lately — every meal seemed specially made to match her tastes.

But Song Ning couldn’t be sure if it really was coincidence.

Maybe the girl really was telling the truth?

True or false… Song Ning no longer dared to fully believe what the girl said in front of her.

At ten o’clock that night, the two young women had returned to the bedroom.

On the bed, they slept in each other’s arms.

But Song Ning wasn’t actually asleep.

Her eyes were closed, but her mind was active.

What was the girl’s true identity?

Who exactly was she?

She knew a lot of things others didn’t — about the Special Infected, about Variants… and that incredible marksmanship…

Her thoughts were messy, without any clear thread.

Song Ning realized it was useless to just blindly guess.

Ever since the time Ping Chengcheng had saved her, Song Ning had been feeling more and more sharp-minded.

The girl was sleeping soundly in her arms, her steady breathing tickling her chest faintly.

Song Ning gently adjusted the girl’s delicate body to hold her closer.

Instinctively, she caught the faint sandalwood fragrance in Ping Chengcheng’s hair.

Right now, Song Ning was deep in thought, without the desires she usually felt.

First, sort through the recent information.

Ping Chengcheng’s recent cooking matched her tastes very well, but it didn’t seem to match the girl’s own preferences.

Suspicious.

Ping Chengcheng had a natural hostility toward Ping Yan and had once said Ping Yan was weak and would harm her.

But Ping Chengcheng didn’t actually know Ping Yan — they had known each other for no more than two or three days.

Ping Chengcheng’s handwriting was similar to Ping Yan’s.

She knew information about the apocalypse that others had absolutely no way of knowing.

And there was… something else.

What else?

Song Ning felt she was missing something.

Her brows furrowed as she searched her memory for any important detail she might have forgotten.

About Ping Yan, about Ping Chengcheng…

She replayed every recent event around her, going over any point that might be suspicious.

Ping Yan had an unexpected persistence toward her.

Even after she hinted many times that there was nothing between them, Ping Yan still confessed to her.

And Ping Chengcheng… they had known each other for less than a month, yet Ping Chengcheng’s feelings toward her were strangely twisted, in a distorted way.

A flash of inspiration flickered in her mind.

First, if Ping Chengcheng didn’t like those foods, why did she make them?

To please her?

But how would Ping Chengcheng know what she liked?

Second, Ping Chengcheng’s hostility toward Ping Yan was abrupt.

She didn’t know him, yet said he would harm her…

Unless… Ping Chengcheng knew Ping Yan very well.

Ping Yan’s personality was something Song Ning knew well — it was possible he really could drag her down.

In that light, the girl’s hostility made sense.

But there was still the problem — why did Ping Chengcheng know him so well?

Fifth, Ping Chengcheng’s twisted feelings for her…

They’d known each other less than a month, yet her love was this intense…

In some ways, her feelings resembled Ping Yan’s — except Ping Yan wasn’t as extreme.

Could it be possible… that Ping Chengcheng had known her long before?

That would explain the abnormal speed of her emotional attachment.

There were too many contradictions on Ping Chengcheng.

All of it made a certain deduction slowly take shape in Song Ning’s mind.

If she made the assumption…

First, Ping Chengcheng knew her tastes in food.

Second, Ping Chengcheng knew Ping Yan’s past and personality well.

And also, Ping Chengcheng had known her a long time ago, and had liked her for a long time.

And now, two obvious facts — Ping Chengcheng’s handwriting was very similar to Ping Yan’s, and she had the same persistent love for her as Ping Yan did.

So… so what was it? Why?

In an instant, Song Ning’s intuition pointed everything toward a single truth!

No — impossible!

She must be missing something…

They… they couldn’t be the same person!

That… that would be too fantastical!

Besides, there was still a question without a reasonable answer…

Why did Ping Chengcheng know so much about the apocalypse?

Yes, yes, impossible.

There had to be another explanation.

Maybe… Ping Chengcheng had been a junior at school who secretly liked her, but she had never noticed?

Mm.

Given Ping Chengcheng’s twisted love, her hostility toward Ping Yan would make sense.

It all fit.

But how to explain the similar handwriting?

Coincidence… yes, a coincidence was possible!