Chapter Forty-Five: The Flirt

The sudden jolt made her head bump against the roof of the car.

Jiang Huan hesitated as she got out, standing next to the driver’s seat. She prodded the cushion gingerly with a stick.

A faint noise, almost like a puff, caught her attention.

She picked up two straightened safety pins, placed them into a plastic box, and checked the seat again. After a moment’s thought, she checked the back seat, the tires, and even the engine—nothing escaped her scrutiny.

Finding that someone had simply played a disgusting trick on her seat, she was almost amused by her own indignation, though a wave of nausea still lingered. She laid a sponge cushion over the seat before getting back in and driving out of the complex.

Upon arriving at the base, Jiang Huan hopped out of the car and stretched her limbs. Perhaps Captain Guan had already informed them, for as soon as she reached the shooting range, a young soldier approached. “Morning, Sister Jiang.”

This “Sister Jiang” was not because Gu Ling had awed them into respect, but simply because, in Captain Guan’s team, many were only nineteen or twenty, and Jiang Huan was a few years older—so the title was based on age.

“Morning. Have you all eaten?”

“We have. Thanks to the rice you gave us, we had rice porridge and vegetable buns for breakfast.”

As Jiang Huan stretched, she asked casually, “So you only eat like this when I donate supplies—what do you eat normally?”

“The logistics department is generous, so we usually get dough drop soup, coarse grain buns, and pancakes. If supplies are tight, we eat all sorts of frozen grains ground up and boiled into a kind of starchy water. Once, we even got frozen pears and fruit, which we boiled as if they were canned fruit in syrup.”

Such is life in a collective—there’s no real freedom, and while there are advantages, the downsides are plain to see.

In their conversation, Jiang Huan even picked up the rumor that they hadn’t received proper supplies for three days. By then, she was warmed up and ready.

Captain Guan arrived right on time. Upon hearing that she was ready, he began teaching her moving target and rolling techniques.

Rolling on the hard ground several times, Jiang Huan found herself covered in water stains and dust. The floor was mercilessly hard, and for someone practicing only temporarily, it was a rather harsh environment.

She suspected she’d be black and blue all over by the time she got home.

When she could finally roll smoothly three times in a row, it was time to start shooting at moving targets.

Over an hour passed amid the crack of gunfire.

Her hands felt numb after several rounds of practice. Jiang Huan quickly massaged her fingers to ease the discomfort.

Captain Guan, tall and long-legged, leaned against a piece of equipment, reviewing her results. “One third of your shots missed. That’s hardly what I’d call outstanding.”

Of course, it also meant she didn’t have much talent for this.

Jiang Huan was not discouraged. After loosening up her muscles, she fired another twenty or so rounds. This time, she was steadier, her observation skills sharper, and her patience had grown—enough for Captain Guan to offer a rare word of praise.

She felt a bit embarrassed. Seventy or eighty bullets had vanished just like that. “I’ll practice two or three more times, but I won’t take advantage of you. Tell me, will you trade bullets for frozen fruit, or maybe alcohol cubes?”

“Frozen goods work too. I have some dumplings. There’s a forest near where I live, so I can chop wood to trade if you need firewood.”

Captain Guan pictured a slender woman in the snow, hacking away at the trees in the forest with a hatchet, taking dozens of swings to bring down a trunk the size of her arm.

“Alcohol cubes, one for two bullets. Frozen fruit depends on the amount. For dumplings, five bullets per pack—big packs are extra.” Food and fuel were most valuable, after all. Captain Guan surmised she’d been lucky, probably stumbled on a cold storage in addition to a grain, oil, and spirits shop. “A couple more practice rounds should be enough—don’t waste too many resources here. The base has heard that the temperature won’t remain at minus twenty or thirty. Up north, one city has already entered polar night, and it’s hit minus ninety. We have to be prepared here, too. The more supplies, the better.”

Knowing he meant well, Jiang Huan assured him she’d keep it in mind.

At noon, she’d left plenty of food for her brother and wanted to pick up more news about the north and the base’s research, so she invited Captain Guan to lunch.

His aide, Xiao Fang, and the young soldiers who’d helped Jiang Huan set up targets, were also invited.

They didn’t really want to go, but Jiang Huan threatened to pack up their share if they refused, which would only make a mess and cost them more contribution points.

So, they decided to go.

Including Jiang Huan, there were seven of them. They headed to a restaurant together.

It drew even more attention than her last visit with Houzi.

People nearby whispered, unaccustomed to seeing people in such uniforms dining here.

“It’s usually Li Pingchuan who comes. Why are the Security Department here this time? Don’t tell me they’ve fallen on hard times?”

“They look like regular patrols, probably just here to warm up. They can’t eat much.”

“Just a bunch of bun-eaters.”

Most of those who could afford a decent meal here were second-generation types or mercenaries—people who generally looked down on rank-and-file soldiers. It was true before the apocalypse, and it was still true now.

Little Guan’s neck flushed red with anger, his fists clenching, but Jiang Huan, loud enough for all to hear, said, “Can you push a couple of tables together? We’re seven people, so we’ll need eight or nine dishes at least—a small table won’t hold it all.”

The server, whose attitude had been less than friendly, suddenly perked up. “Would you like drinks? We have some fruit today—durian, which is already frozen and edible. Interested?”

“Sure. Bring us eight meat dishes, enough to go around, white rice as the staple, the best you have. Drinks—just cola, or some low-alcohol fruit wine.”

“Right away.” Since they could earn contribution points by selling drinks and fruit, the server’s attitude improved immediately. Each of the seven had their rice served in individual bowls, and Jiang Huan even got a ginger cola, served hot.

Hot meat dishes arrived one by one. Jiang Huan picked up her bowl. “We’re not strangers here—no need for formalities. Dig in.”

This was a familiar style for them. After a few bites, everyone’s chopsticks moved faster. The dishes on the table disappeared before their eyes, and they even ordered seconds on the rice before the seven of them were full.

The meal cost 2,100 contribution points. The others looked uneasy as they paid, but Jiang Huan’s expression remained unchanged.

Her composure drew attention. After she paid the bill, someone approached her. “Care to make friends?”

The newcomer wore a fur coat and stood just about six feet tall, his broad shoulders unmistakable. He spoke with a thick accent, enough to startle any average girl into retreat.

“Hello, I’m Jiang Huan. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replied, extending her hand and shaking his—one adorned with a heavy gold chain.

It looked quite substantial.