Chapter Nineteen: Encountering Beauty While Searching the Building

The search continued downward.

From the twenty-seventh floor to the twentieth, most rooms were either empty or held only cold corpses.

Valuable supplies were scarce.

Nineteenth floor, Room 1902.

In the kitchen, there were a dozen boxes of instant noodles stacked neatly.

Mu Chen stepped forward to inspect them; the production date clearly showed they had expired two years ago.

He shook his head—food scarcity was becoming increasingly severe.

Turning around, he left.

Eighteenth floor.

The door to Room 1804 was tightly locked.

But for Mu Chen, who possessed teleportation abilities, this was meaningless.

A flash of light, and he was inside the room.

As soon as he steadied himself, a faint, intermittent moaning filled his ears—full of pain.

Mu Chen’s muscles tensed instantly; a dagger slid into his palm, blade aimed toward the source of the sound.

Holding his breath, he moved as lightly as possible, cautiously approaching the bedroom.

On the bed lay a young girl.

Her face was pale, lips a ghastly bluish-purple.

She appeared to be barely in her early twenties, with delicate, refined features.

At this moment, her eyes were tightly shut, clearly in a deep coma.

Her left arm was abnormally swollen, bulging high.

The skin showed an unnatural purplish-red hue, shocking to behold.

“A bee sting?” Mu Chen furrowed his brow, carefully examining the wound.

Suddenly, from the direction of the living room came a dull buzzing of wings.

Mu Chen spun around sharply. A wasp, the size of a fist, lazily fluttered into the bedroom.

This beast was terrifyingly large—more than ten times bigger than a normal wasp—with a jet-black stinger at its tail, shimmering with an eerie greenish glow.

Mu Chen’s heart jolted. “So it’s one of these mutants—no wonder the venom is so potent.”

The mutant wasp obviously sensed Mu Chen’s presence, emitting a spine-chilling buzz as it fiercely lunged at him!

Mu Chen stood his ground, expression cold. His right hand flashed with a military-grade dagger, tracing an impeccably precise silver arc that instantly severed the wasp’s flight path.

A sharp tearing sound!

The giant wasp abruptly split in midair, a thick, foul-smelling yellow-green liquid splattering across the floor.

Mu Chen shook the sticky fluid off his dagger and hurried back to the bedside.

The swelling in the girl’s left arm was spreading toward her shoulder; the purplish-red skin was stretched almost translucent. The toxin was spreading rapidly.

Any further delay would mean the end of this young life.

To save her, or not?

The thought flashed through Mu Chen’s mind.

In this apocalypse, people’s hearts were treacherous, and resources were scarce to the extreme.

Was it worth using his precious and limited medicine on a stranger?

Yet, his gaze fell upon the girl’s bloodless but still delicate face, and the faint rise and fall of her chest—

In the end, Mu Chen could not bring himself to turn away from death.

“Very well, you’re lucky,” he muttered softly, having made his decision.

Without hesitation, he began searching the bedroom.

Soon, he found a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet containing several boxes of antihistamines and some anti-inflammatory drugs, all still within their expiration dates.

The only problem was that the girl was in a deep coma and could not swallow pills on her own.

“Looks like I have no choice,” Mu Chen frowned slightly, taking a few antihistamine tablets and carefully crushing them into a fine powder using the dagger’s handle.

He then poured a small amount of drinking water from his own flask, mixing the powder into a thick paste.

Gently lifting the girl’s chin, he forced open her clenched jaw with some effort and carefully spooned the medicine into her mouth bit by bit.

The paste entered her mouth, but she showed no sign of swallowing; the liquid pooled inside.

Mu Chen cursed under his breath. Time was of the essence!

He hesitated only a moment before steeling himself, taking a deep breath, and bending down.

Pressing his lips against the girl’s cold ones, he carefully transferred the medicine and a breath of air from his mouth, attempting to help her swallow.

Her lips were icy cold but surprisingly soft to the touch.

The faint breath that brushed against Mu Chen’s cheek was delicate and difficult to describe.

He forced himself to focus completely, feeling for any movement in her throat.

Finally, he sensed a slight swallowing motion.

The medicine had been taken.

Only then did he exhale slightly and slowly rise to his feet.

With the internal medication addressed, next was the topical treatment.

Mu Chen recalled seeing white vinegar in the kitchen during his earlier search—a substance that could neutralize bee venom to some extent, perfect for cleaning the wound.

He looked again at the girl’s swollen left arm and carefully tore off the tattered sleeve.

The arm was swollen like a risen bun, the skin stretched thin and abnormally purplish-red.

At the center of the swelling was a tiny stinger puncture, surrounded by a dark, terrifying purple-black ring.

Mu Chen retrieved a relatively clean roll of gauze from the first aid kit and went back to the kitchen for the white vinegar, soaking the gauze thoroughly.

Holding his breath, he gently wiped the frightening wound with the vinegar-soaked gauze, focusing especially on the area around the stinger hole, hoping to remove as much venom as possible.

His movements were swift yet careful.

“Ugh…” the girl let out a suppressed groan, still showing no signs of waking.

After finishing, Mu Chen used a damp cloth to cool her forehead, then sat quietly by the bedside to wait.

About half an hour later, the girl’s complexion visibly improved, and the swelling on her arm had subsided significantly.

Her eyelashes fluttered; she opened her eyes weakly, her voice faint but wary: “Who are you?”

“Just passing through,” Mu Chen stood, “You were stung by a wasp and nearly died.”

The girl struggled to sit up, scanning the room before her gaze settled on the two halves of the wasp’s corpse on the floor.

“That wasp…”

“Dead,” Mu Chen said tersely. “I killed it. What’s your name?”

“Xie Youyou,” she said, rubbing her throbbing temple, her voice trembling with lingering fear. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“You’re welcome.” Mu Chen did not linger, turning toward the door. “Rest up. I have business to attend to.”

“Wait!” Xie Youyou called out anxiously. “It’s too dangerous outside now, and you’re alone…”

“I can take care of myself,” Mu Chen replied without looking back, leaving her with, “Take care of yourself.”

Building 6, Room 1203.

Pan Guang sank into the sofa, dexterously spinning a fruit knife between his fingers. The blade occasionally caught a cold gleam, reflecting off his dark and inscrutable face.

“Brother… what are you thinking about?” Pan Han’s voice trembled slightly, barely hiding the tension. He could almost scent the violent aura suffusing the air—all emanating from his brother.