March 18th, 20xx — 6:38 PM
Zone 3A-Δ – Fifth Floor – Jiang Roulan’s Apartment
The stew was still hot.
The pot clicked softly as I lifted the lid. A thin layer of steam rose and touched my face — not enough to burn, just enough to sting.
I didn’t know why I made it.
Habit, maybe. Training. When things start to fall apart, cook. Feed people. It was the only instinct that hadn’t been ripped out of me yet.
The vegetables were soft now — rehydrated rations mixed with real meat I’d stripped from last week’s beef. Nothing extravagant. Just enough for two.
But I didn’t serve it.
A message saying he’d remembered or couldn’t stand being away from me?
John wasn’t coming back.
Not from the look in Qinglan’s eyes when they left... I knew it.
Right now, she was probably—
I pressed my lips together and turned away from the pot before I could imagine it.
I didn’t want to picture him on top of her. Inside her. Breathing her in.
I didn’t want to compare the way he kissed me — desperate, hot, like the world might end — to the way he must be holding her now.
Because I was stupid.
Because I hadn’t asked him to stay.
Because I’d told him to go.
And he’d gone — not out of duty, not for a mission...
But to save someone else’s family.
And I hadn’t asked him to help with mine.
They’re still out there — my parents, my brother, maybe dead. Maybe waiting. But I’d bitten my tongue when I could’ve said the words.
And now I was here, standing in my kitchen like some forgotten side note.
There was a soft cough from the side room — the girl with the heart condition. Liang Mei, I think. He left her here after carrying her in like something precious. Tucked her under my blanket. Didn’t even ask.
She stirred now, murmuring in her sleep.
I stared at the closed door.
And the bitterness cracked just a little.
He had done something good.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
What did I do from the moment I met him, other than seek his help and fail to do anything? Although I wanted to be important to John, there must be something I can do for the base, for the people here...
Will he look at me if I do?
Can I become important to him, like Qinglan?
My nails tapped against the rim of the bowl in thought.
I knew how to lead. How to ration supplies, maintain formation, and keep panic from spreading. I’d kept people alive before John arrived — not with power, but with order.
Maybe that was enough.
Maybe that’s what he needed.
He didn’t need another warm body in his bed.
He needed someone who could help him build something.
I stood up slowly and set the spoon down.
Tomorrow, I’d take control of the logistics. Food, water, and patrol patterns. The kind of leadership no one wanted, but everyone relied on.
If Qinglan made his blood boil—
Then I’d be the reason it kept flowing.
And when he looked at me next time...
It wouldn’t be like the woman he kissed and walked away from.
It would be as if the one standing beside him when the rest of the world collapsed.
And maybe, just maybe—
That would be enough.
He would be the one kissing me, wanting to get into my pants... right?
With a sigh, I lowered the heat on the stew and headed into the small room.
The girl he left in here was also cute. Although not on the level of Yifei or Qinglan... I knew something had happened between them. The way he held her — too careful, too close. That wasn’t just a rescue.
John’s eyes sparkled when he was aroused or horny. I wasn’t blind.
And the way he looked at this girl...
"I have another rival..."
That’s all I could think as my heart tightened and drove me into a corner.
Liang Mei lay beneath my blanket — my blanket — curled small beneath the warmth. Her breathing was even now, shallow but calm. Her sweater clung slightly to her chest from sweat. Pale lips. Skin too white. Fragile in a way that didn’t belong in this world.
I sat beside her on the edge of the mattress and reached out, brushing her damp bangs away from her forehead. Her skin was cool.
"You’re not very strong," I whispered.
"... Miss Roulan?" she asked sleepily.
"Don’t talk. Just rest."
She blinked at me with those watery brown eyes, slow and unsure.
That was the problem.
"Did you... and John...?" I asked before I could stop myself.
She flushed. Her gaze dipped. She said nothing.
That was answer enough.
The silence stretched.
Then I stood and returned with a small bowl of stew and a spoon.
"I made too much," I lied. "Eat while it’s hot."
She hesitated — then took it with both hands. Her fingers were still trembling. But she smiled.
I sat beside her again. This time, closer.
"I’m not going to lose," I said suddenly.
She blinked up at me. "Huh?"
"To you. To Qinglan. To anyone."
I didn’t say it with venom.
I said it like a vow.
"I’ll become what he needs."
Liang Mei looked down at her stew, silent.
She poked the stew, but her face seemed to change, then with a strong glow in her eyes, she turned to me and smiled softly again.
Because she understood.
Even a sick girl could see it.
We were all competing for the same man.
This wasn’t the previous world, one where morals and laws judged everything, new rules were needed, and it was a battle of survival where one could die the next moment.
And I wouldn’t be left behind.
I watched Liang Mei finish the stew, small spoonfuls slow and careful, like her hands weren’t quite her own yet. She didn’t speak again, but she kept smiling in that quiet way.
But she wasn’t my ally either.
I took the empty bowl when she was done, left her with a blanket and a fresh bottle of water, and stepped out of the room without another word.
The door closed softly behind me.
The silence returned.
But it wasn’t heavy anymore.
Didn’t linger by the stewpot hoping for a knock that would never come.
Instead, I walked to the corner closet and pulled out my coat — black, lined with reinforced seams, heavy enough to command attention but sufficient to move in. I’d stitched the hem myself. I wanted something that made people pause when I walked into a room.
I stripped off the sweat-damp shirt and changed, tying my hair into a sharp side-part and tucking the ends clean. No frizz. No strands out of place.
My face in the cracked mirror didn’t look soft.
If John were on the third floor, he’d see that I wasn’t idle.
Then I’d start without him.
Food quotas. Patrols. Water purification schedules. Night watch shifts. I had it all sketched in my head — like muscle memory from the old world. The kind of plans I’d once buried in a folder and left behind.
This gave me a sense of motivation and a desire to act.
There were many mundane things to do after ten years working in the force as a woman.
However, I got used to these things...
I leaned back against the elevator wall, the cold steel calming my mind as I wondered what feelings John felt when facing everyone. John’s actions and choices determine everyone’s life... I know he held some sort of a magical system, like a game.
He told me that much, but it couldn’t make us immortal... nor him.
"How much pressure are you under as our leader?"
My voice echoed off the walls, as I closed my eyes and remembered his heat... the soft touch of his lips.... how he groped my body, and left his marks, light bruises that I wanted more... deeper.
I was falling for a man more than five years my junior...