Cheng Shuili popped a pack of pre-cooked food into her mini-cooking pot, the sizzle filling her cart's cozy compartment. The aroma hit her like a memory—same as the takeout she'd lived on in her past life. Not half bad.
She scooped out a portion for [Berzhu and Pig Come Hard], tossing it his way via trade. The guy thought she'd cooked it herself, chowing down with tears in his eyes like it was a home-cooked miracle. He sent her two bottles of mineral water as thanks.
The gesture warmed her. She hit Add Friend. Another ally in the bag.
Long-term partner, plus one.
The past two days had been a breeze. No disasters, just loot. Chests had been generous, restocking her food, water, and supplies. She even scored the holy grail: toilet paper. Life was good.
Day four rolled in with a system ping: Daily Journey Requirement: 80 kilometers.
Cheng Shuili twisted the cart's handle, the hum of the engine blending with the eternal "Everything 50% off!" blaring from that cursed speaker. She'd made peace with it, even shouting along sometimes. Keeps things lively.
Someone in the regional chat had begged for conversation yesterday, whining that endless driving was driving them nuts. Cheng Shuili got it, but she was built different. Her past life's dream was to be a shut-in, foiled only by her accidental rise to corporate MVP. Now? She relished the quiet.
Not far into her drive, a glint caught her eye—a chest by the roadside.
Luck's on my side. She gripped her baseball bat and approached, senses sharp. No monsters lately, but she wasn't slacking. Late-night self-reflection had her half in love with her own brilliance: three server-wide announcements, razor-sharp instincts, never cocky, always ready to bolt if outmatched. Ahem. Point was, she was a damn charming survivor.
Right hand on the bat, left hand prying the chest open, she was poised to swing. One wrong move, and this arm-thick bat would rain hell.
Lady Luck delivered again: a Vehicle Upgrade Material Fragment. Post-upgrade, her next one needed 25 fragments. Two-point-five times more? She snorted. Why not 250 times and just admit the system's a moron?
She pocketed the fragment, the empty chest fading to nothing. Her third fragment since the game began. They weren't exactly falling into her lap, unlike [Strawberry Hard Candy], who swam in them. She'd collected six total: two from chests, four from trading gasoline with her favorite fuel addict. The guy was so hooked on gas, she worried he'd crash and burn.
Not my circus, not my monkeys. She'd miss the steady trades, though.
A low rumble snapped her out of her thoughts. An engine, closing fast.
Two days of peace, and now this? Another highway merge?
Cheng Shuili's lips twitched. This isn't random anymore—it's a damn guarantee. A pickup truck roared into view, its speed dwarfing her cart's. No outrunning this one.
She steeled herself, calm washing over her. She'd died once. Compared to that, this was just another Tuesday.
The truck pulled up beside her, and a lanky man hopped out. He looked harmless—gaunt, flushed cheeks, a shy smile. But his greeting rang hollow. "H-Hello… You're the first person I've met."
Cheng Shuili nodded, her smile practiced. "Same."
He scrubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. "Wanna trade? I've got good stuff. Tell me what you need, and we'll sort it out."
Red flag. Shy types didn't talk that slick. Her hand brushed the dagger at her waist, warm from her body heat. Plan A: wave the bat, strike with the blade.
Her face stayed open, guileless. "I'm short on vehicle upgrade fragments. Got any?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely." He nodded fast, grinning as he fished three fragments from the truck's bed, holding them up like a prize. "Got three. Can I see your stuff? I'll pick something to trade."
She nodded, her hand slipping behind her to grip the bat. Wants me to turn my back? Fat chance. Why risk it when she could end it now?
No risks. Not today.
Her fingers locked around the bat's handle, her smile sweet as she tilted her head. "I've got a lot. What're you after?"
His body tensed, then relaxed. Gotcha. He thought she was clueless, sneering inwardly. "Anything—food or—"
The bat swung, a blur slicing the air with a whistle. His eyes widened, but it was too late. The blow caught his temple, and he dropped like a broken puppet.
Cheng Shuili's smile curved, sharp as a crescent moon. First strike wins.
She nudged his jacket open with the bat. His white undershirt was a canvas of blood, sprayed in a violent arc. She touched a dark stain. Still wet.
Murderer. Her eyes narrowed. He'd killed before.
Just to be safe, she tapped his temple again. Stay down.
She stepped to the pickup, reaching for his supplies. A system alert chimed.
[Beep. Supplies belong to player Li Erqiang. No viewing permissions. Reminder: Killing a player grants a random 0%, 25%, 50%, 75%, or 100% of their supplies.]
Five tiers, including a big fat zero? Kill and get nothing? The system's way of keeping players from slaughtering each other, maybe.
[Dear survivor, please make the right choice.]
"Right choice?" she murmured, glancing at the crumpled figure. She didn't vibe with violence for violence's sake, but a life for a life? That she could get behind.
Your move, killer.