After the Dormitory Assignment results were announced, Jiang Huang moved into her new dormitory.
“Green Shield Pest Control” is the company’s public name, but all employees refer to themselves as Extermination Experts.
Stepping inside, one realizes the site is quite large.
Jiang Huang carried her light luggage bag and, following the dormitory number and code sent to her phone, found her own dormitory.
【2-323】
The corridor at noon was empty and silent.
Jiang Huang set down her bag and pressed the code one by one on the Dormitory Keypad.
“Beep—beep.”
The door lock clicked open.
Almost simultaneously, the neighboring door pushed open from the inside.
A flash of silver white, like moonlight on snowy mountains, instantly caught Jiang Huang’s peripheral vision.
The other party seemed freshly showered.
Light spilled out through the half-open door, tilting outward.
Silver-white hair was haloed by a faint glow, flowing down like liquid silk over the shoulders.
The hair ends were damp; a single strand curled tightly in the hollow of a delicate collarbone, the moisture softening his cold demeanor and lending his eyes a few extra hints of clarity.
Jiang Huang, one hand holding her luggage, subconsciously fixed her gaze on Luo Chen for a few seconds.
A top-tier beautiful being.
This thought floated through Jiang Huang’s mind.
The two of them, still strangers, stood in silent eye contact in the quiet corridor.
The air seemed to freeze.
The corridor was so cold and empty that even the faintest breath sounded clear.
“…Jiang Qing?” Luo Chen’s alabaster fingers pressed the door handle as he took the initiative to break the indescribable, subtle atmosphere, “Your dorm was assigned here.”
Jiang Qing nodded slightly.
“You should unpack first.” Luo Chen lowered his gaze, scanning Jiang Huang’s small bag, feeling that chatting here was a disturbance. “Need any help?”
Jiang Huang tilted her head slightly, the black hair longer than her earlobes swaying in a small arc. “No, thanks.” She lifted her few belongings.
Jiang Qing stepped swiftly inside and closed the door.
The assigned dorm was moderate in size, a one-bedroom with a living room, a kitchen, and a small gym—suitable for employees who often went out on assignments to exercise daily.
Jiang Huang hung her clothes in the wardrobe, walked around the room twice, swept the floor, and checked the doors and windows, habitually closing the windows.
When she finished, the digital clock on the wall showed 3 p.m.
“…” Jiang Huang had not eaten lunch.
The cafeteria had long passed mealtime.
Hunger churned in her stomach, and she rubbed her belly, recalling Zheng Wen’s ambiguous remark—
“Did he tell you his cooking is really good?”
Jiang Huang still kept her distance—though hungry, she wasn’t the type to rely on others to cook.
So she knocked on Luo Chen’s door. “Hello—”
“Captain Luo, do you have any instant noodles?”
Luo Chen was slightly startled but kept the door open, his tall, slim figure casting a shadow over the slender woman standing before him.
“…Come in.” Luo Chen stepped aside to let her pass.
Jiang Huang hesitated for a moment but soon stepped into Luo Chen’s room.
He closed the door behind her and headed straight for the kitchen while Jiang Huang sat somewhat reservedly on the sofa.
She restrained herself, not glancing around nervously.
The air was filled with a fresh, clear scent that seeped into every corner, uncontrollably spreading around Jiang Huang.
In the kitchen, Luo Chen tied up his long hair loosely with a leather band, revealing a gentler side.
It felt rude to look around someone else’s room, but Jiang Huang was involuntarily drawn in by the scene and the scent.
Both her senses and vision were unfamiliar and unsettled, and she silently tilted her head.
She thought: Mermaids really are beautiful creatures.
Soon, Luo Chen emerged carrying a bowl.
Tomato noodle soup, topped with two golden, fragrant fried eggs.
Not even instant noodles! Jiang Huang stared in surprise at the bowl placed before her, cooked especially for her. “Captain Luo, you…”
Jiang Huang rummaged through her vocabulary and finally managed: “Thank you for the trouble.”
Luo Chen’s fingers stiffened slightly.
“Instant noodles have no nutrition.” He poured himself a glass of water and sat down opposite her.
“…Your body’s severely deficient. Your abilities affect your health greatly. Try to nourish yourself more regularly.” His tone was calm.
Jiang Huang couldn’t help but praise: “Captain Luo, you’re really considerate!”
“…Eat up.” Luo Chen’s long lashes lowered as he swallowed, his mirror-like eyes reflecting the ripples in the cup.
As if it were the first time tasting tomato noodle soup.
The warm, homemade dish eased Jiang Huang’s hunger.
When she had eaten most of it, Luo Chen spoke: “We brought back the body.”
Jiang Huang’s hand holding the chopsticks paused slightly, lifting her eyelids to look at Luo Chen.
“His real name was Wang Jiao,” he said, “a member of the Dye Light volunteer organization.
Before the Special Management Bureau took over Apartment No. 5, Dye Light was self-organizing rescue operations for trapped residents.”
“During the evacuation… Wang Jiao had already degenerated. He chose to stay in Apartment No. 5.”
Jiang Huang lowered her eyes. “He didn’t have faith in the insects.”
“He didn’t,” Luo Chen repeated firmly. “Even though his mind was infected, he still held to his inner direction, fighting against the insects until his last moment.”
“Dye Light? What kind of organization is that?” Jiang Huang closed her eyes.
Luo Chen explained: “It’s a volunteer group similar to Green Shield but smaller in scale.”
“Your mother— we never found her in the end, but that doesn’t mean she definitely met misfortune.”
Jiang Huang scoffed.
“There’s more… once you’re done eating, I’ll tell you.”
Jiang Huang quickly swept the soup from her bowl.
Luo Chen’s lips twitched in a barely perceptible smile. He pulled out his phone and opened a photo.
“This was found in Apartment No. 312.”
The photo was striking and disturbing—ordinary people would need multiple booster shots just to view it safely.
It showed a horrifying shape, as if more than a dozen people had fused together, their limbs grotesquely intertwined and embedded, with degenerated abdomens resting on the floor.
Some arms were embedded in others like flesh-built worms.
“Jiang Qing, what you said might be correct,” Luo Chen’s voice deepened.
“They are all victims from this incident.”
“They occupy the elevator, probably just trying desperately to escape.”
Jiang Huang lifted her eyes quietly, looking at Luo Chen.
His gaze lingered on the photo, his tone gentle and calm, as if speaking to her but also thinking aloud.
In stark contrast to the cold, stern look he wore in Apartment No. 5, at this moment he revealed a tender sensitivity.
Jiang Huang’s hand at her side suddenly lifted, lightly tapping Luo Chen’s shoulder symbolically. “You’ve done your best.”
“Don’t be sad.”
Luo Chen looked at Jiang Huang in surprise; a flicker of emotion stirred deep in his dark eyes.
He didn’t realize he had conveyed the feeling of “sadness.”
Nor did he expect Jiang Huang to comfort him in return.
Luo Chen stood up sideways and paused for two seconds, then his voice regained its usual cold calm.
“The fridge is empty. I’m going to Zhào Supermarket now.”
Looking at the empty bowl, Jiang Huang decisively said, “I’ll come with you.”
She felt awkward eating someone else’s meal without buying groceries in return.
At the supermarket entrance,
somehow, they ended up shopping together.
Jiang Huang pushed a small cart, unfamiliar as she followed behind Luo Chen.
It was her first time shopping in a supermarket.
Luo Chen’s peripheral vision caught her figure—
Jiang Huang wandered, stopping and starting, overwhelmed by the dazzling array of goods.
Her exploratory curiosity was unusually strong but never annoying—like a child touching and probing the world with pure desire.
…Her memories were fragmented; presumably, she had no supermarket memories.
This time, Luo Chen planned to help her navigate.
“Jiang Qing.”
Jiang Huang pushed the cart over. “Yes?”
“Want to eat pork ribs?” Luo Chen stood by the refrigerated section, holding a box of premium ribs.
Jiang Huang blinked, her eyes dark and intense like painted clouds, staring fixedly at Luo Chen. “Yes.”
She answered decisively.
Zheng Wen’s words were indeed meaningful.
Being neighbors with Luo Chen was a great stroke of luck.
During the few days of nutritious meals with Luo Chen, Jiang Huang was called to an assignment.
“…” Normally, as an intern, Jiang Huang would have spent some time integrating with new teammates, executing a few peripheral missions to accumulate experience before entering a nest.
But now, Jiang Huang looked up at the large characters before her—
Mingde High School.
Harsh sunlight shone down, and Jiang Huang stood silently outside this private high school’s gates.
Her gaze passed through the bars; dust swirled in the empty, dead silence, not a soul in sight.
A beep sounded; the red light on the voice recorder lit up.
The woman with sharp short hair beside Jiang Huang spoke:
“July 13, 2037.
Nest number A-ZZ20370710.
It’s now 9:15 a.m. Extermination Team Three has reached the barrier, attempting entry for the first time.”
Training had taught Jiang Huang that the voice recorder was a specially crafted tool; recordings made on it would not be distorted.
Another beep, and Yuan Xiao put down the recorder, turning to Jiang Huang, her stern face instantly softening into a comforting smile. “Ah, not sure when we’ll get in. Sometimes just waiting for the entrance to open can take days.”
“Lulu, have you found the entrance?”
“No.” The young woman patrolling around the school’s perimeter shook her head, her expression cold and distant.
Lin Lulu and Yuan Jie, along with Wu Maolong—nicknamed Xiong Da—and team leader Guan Zi Fei, were Jiang Huang’s current teammates.
In recent days, nest occurrences had increased.
Three days ago, a new infant-stage A-Class Insect Nest was discovered.
After negotiations between the Special Management Bureau and Green Shield, it was decided that they would dispatch a field team promptly to prevent development, rescuing as many humans as possible.
Green Shield assigned the task to Extermination Team Three.
Hence, time was tight, and there was no chance for familiarization.
Jiang Huang had only briefly met these teammates.
Wu Maolong, a burly man with a heavy tone and a serious expression, walked over from a nearby parking lot with Guan Zi Fei.
The latter’s golden hair shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
Noticing Jiang Huang’s gaze, he smiled brightly.
“First mission, nervous?”
Guan Zi Fei lightly bit his lip, donning the captain’s hat as he warmly addressed the intern Jiang Huang.
“Nervousness is normal,” he said casually. “Just stick with us this time. Mainly observe and learn, gain experience.”
“Got it.”
Jiang Huang had come mostly to fill her stomach.
Only “eggs” made her truly feel full.
July’s scorching sun blazed like a roaring furnace; soon, the group was sweating.
Guan Zi Fei found a piece of paper and made a fan out of it, standing beside Jiang Huang to fan her.
“Jiang Qing, hot?”
“Yes, hot.”
Guan Zi Fei made a noise and blew the fan, sweeping his hair backward.
He joked, “The captain’s fan, one of a kind, worth a fortune.”
Jiang Huang looked at the paper fan with a smirk, picked it up, and fanned herself.
Guan Zi Fei was the opposite of Luo Chen’s personality—restless, always talking to fill silence.
“I thought you’d stick with Luo Chen.”
“Why?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You two are close, right? Neighbors and all.”
“Close?” Jiang Huang thought seriously… Luo Chen often invited her to meals, probably feeling a sense of responsibility since he brought her out of Apartment No. 5.
Luo Chen wasn’t as talkative as Guan Zi Fei.
Jiang Huang tentatively asked, “If we’re close, can I join your team?”
“No.” Guan Zi Fei smiled as if she was imagining something unrealistic. “You’re already assigned to Team Three.”
“…” As if he was just talking nonsense.
Guan Zi Fei leisurely fanned himself. “Hey—”
He pointed to Mingde High School.
“This is where we’re about to enter. Remember your high school days? Oh, right… you forgot…” He paused. “Maybe we’ll get to experience high school life again. Who knows, it might jog your memory.”
Guan Zi Fei wasn’t particularly talkative.
Jiang Huang said, “It would be great to recover my memories.”
A gleam of humor lit up Guan Zi Fei’s light-colored eyes. “Then I wish you success.”
“But before that, you should know about A-Class Insect Nests: high danger, difficult missions, and high fatality rates.”
Insect nests have three stages: infant, dormant, and mature.
Infant nests consume massive amounts of biomass to recharge energy.
Once the eggs are fully energized, the nest enters the dormant phase.
Dormant nests don’t actively absorb biomass but remain sealed, focusing on internal digestion and stabilization.
After dormancy comes the mature stage, the most dangerous phase.
Mature nests expand rapidly, aggressively invading reality, full of dangers inside.
When a nest reaches maturity, it means it has successfully corrupted part of the Earth.
Jiang Huang nodded, having learned this in training.
Guan Zi Fei continued: “One more thing to note.”
He turned his head; his eyes shimmered like amber in the sunlight. “The higher the level, the smarter the queen.”
“Like running a company… a high-IQ boss leads a more elite team.”
The sun rose and fell; the sky gradually darkened to ink.
Jiang Huang sat on the curb, gazing at the sparse stars beginning to twinkle.
Yuan Jie checked her phone.
“It’s already 8 p.m.”
She exhaled deeply, helpless.
“Won’t we really have to wait days?”
Wu Maolong handed Jiang Huang a bottle of water. “No choice. We’ve waited five days before.”
Jiang Huang took it, opened the cap, and drank.
The water inside the bottle rippled with her movement, moonlight shining in it, sparkling.
She blinked, and in that instant, the moonlight briefly distorted.
Suddenly, a metallic sliding sound like an iron gate echoed.
Like a sharp blade cutting through the silent night.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to the school gates, which had opened on their own.
Jiang Huang’s vision abruptly darkened.
Moments later, faint, indistinct sounds reached her ears, gradually becoming clearer—
“One, two, three, four… five.”
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