On the top floor of an unfinished building about eight hundred meters away from the Lan Bi Garden community, members of the Black Watch "White Cell" squad were like ghosts blending into the shadows. They silently set up reconnaissance equipment among the ruins. The air was thick with the smell of dust and decay, but the squad members' breathing was steady and powerful, demonstrating a high level of professional competence.
The scout, codenamed T-3, was lying behind a high-magnification thermal imaging telescope, the lens slowly scanning the deathly silent residential buildings opposite. Most of the windows were broken and dark, like the eye sockets of a skull. But when his lens moved to the top floor of Building 28, he stopped.
The scene there was completely out of place with the surrounding decay. The windows were intact, even reflecting a strange luster under the faint sunlight, clearly made of specially reinforced material. Even more striking was that on the balcony and the rooftop terrace, rows of deep blue solar panels were neatly arranged. In a city where the power system had long since collapsed, this meant that the apartment possessed an independent and stable energy supply.
T-3 quickly switched to electromagnetic spectrum scanning mode, and a clear, encrypted Wi-Fi signal source and several low-power radio waves were flagged—those were signals from surveillance cameras.
"Captain, an anomalous target has been discovered on the top floor of Building 28. Based on structural analysis, this is a standard basic-level military-grade safe house, equipped with independent energy, reinforced defenses, and an external surveillance system," T-3 reported calmly through his bone-conduction headset.
The squad leader, codenamed "Ghost", who was on the other side searching for traces of intelligent infected, turned around with interest upon hearing this and took the tactical tablet handed over by T-3. On the screen were various analytical data for Room 2101.
"Oh?" An imperceptible curve hooked at the corner of Ghost's mouth. "To have this level of fortification only a few months after the apocalypse broke out... this is definitely not something an ordinary survivor could achieve. This represents knowing a large amount of information in advance and having sufficient preparation time. It seems this anomalous target might know some secrets we don't."
A light flickered in his eyes, like a hunter discovering rare prey. A person who could make full preparations before a disaster arrived had intelligence value that might even be no less than their primary objective for this mission.
"Mark this target as 'nightingale' and list them as a secondary observation subject with potential value. T-3, you are responsible for continuous surveillance. Record all their activity patterns. No contact is allowed without my orders."
"Copy that," T-3 replied, locking his gaze back onto that fortress in the sky.
Meanwhile, the closely monitored Zhao Yuwei was leisurely sitting in her home, which was comparable to a bank vault, enjoying a luxurious spicy hot pot.
In the scalding beef tallow soup base, bright red chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns tumbled, releasing an enticing aroma. Using chopsticks, she picked up a slice of well-marbled fatty beef roll just taken from the freezer and swished it in the boiling broth for a few seconds. Once the meat curled slightly, she dipped it into her self-made sesame oil and minced garlic sauce and popped it into her mouth. The spicy, hot, and fresh flavors exploded on her taste buds, making her squint her eyes in comfort.
To her, the world outside the window was merely a play that had nothing to do with her. She believed that with her advantage as a reborn soul and this indestructible fortress, she would certainly be able to live safely until the end of the apocalypse, perhaps even living better than in her previous life.
After finishing the meat, she held a glass of iced cola and walked to the window, carefully pulling open a crack in the heavy alloy curtains to look at the building opposite—Building 27.
She knew that there were still people alive there. But their so-called "living" was uglier and more terrifying than death.
In the early days of the apocalypse, the survivors of Building 27 had also tried to unite for self-preservation. They were led by a former fitness trainer named Brother Qiang, who collected food and reinforced the hallways. But as food was rapidly exhausted, the darkest side of human nature began to breed and spread like a virus.
At first, they only handled the corpses of those who died of illness or committed suicide in despair, euphemistically calling it "waste utilization." But when the first piece of human flesh was shared and eaten, Pandora's box was completely opened.
Soon, Brother Qiang and several of his strong, able-bodied cronies turned from leaders into rulers. They no longer went out to find supplies because there was a more convenient "meat source" right in the building. Those who were old, weak, sick, or disabled and could not provide value to the team were labeled as "burdens." An "accidental" fall, an "unfortunate" infection—one "burden" after another disappeared, and their flesh and blood became food on the table of Brother Qiang's gang.
Now, that place had evolved into a primitive and brutal cannibalistic tribe. Brother Qiang and his thugs were the high-and-mighty "hunters," while the remaining dozen or so survivors were the "food" kept in pens. They lingered on, not knowing when they would be dragged into the kitchen because of the "hunters" moods or hunger.
The situation for women here was even more miserable. They were treated as spoils of war and tools for venting lust, randomly distributed by Brother Qiang to his subordinates in exchange for a tiny bit of food scraps and temporary safety. Any resistance would lead to even more cruel torture and death.
Zhao Yuwei's gaze, through the binoculars, precisely locked onto a window on the 15th floor of Building 27. A woman with a haggard face and hollow eyes was leaning against the windowsill. She was skin and bones, and her exposed arms were covered in purple bruises. Suddenly, the door was kicked open, and a burly man with a fleshy face rushed in, roughly grabbing the woman's hair and dragging her deep into the room. The woman did not scream or struggle, as if she were a puppet whose soul had been drained, allowing herself to be manipulated. Soon, the curtains were drawn, but Zhao Yuwei could imagine the atrocities taking place behind them.
She coldly looked away and turned to another window. Under the faint firelight, Brother Qiang was shirtless, sitting with several of his subordinates, using a rusty fire axe to carve something up. It was a leg; judging by the size of the ankle and the smoothness of the skin, it likely belonged to a young girl.
Zhao Yuwei watched all this expressionlessly, without a shred of pity in her heart, but she felt disgusted. Her experiences in her previous life made her understand that this was the norm for humanity in the apocalypse. She was only more grateful for her foresight and more determined in her resolution to mind her own business.
She pulled the curtains shut, isolating herself from that living hell. The aroma of the hot pot enveloped her once more, making her feel incredibly safe and satisfied.