Choosing the second-floor room was a well-considered decision. As we gazed out at the street, we saw monsters leaping from one skyscraper to another. For these creatures, with their remarkable agility, the large iron gates and four-meter-high walls of the courtyard posed no deterrent at all. And even though we hadn’t noticed anything unusual in the courtyard or on the first floor, we couldn’t completely rule out the possibility that something might emerge from underground.
In this strange and unfamiliar world, we remained highly vigilant about any potential threats that hadn’t yet materialized.
The second floor, at five meters above ground, offered a much better chance of avoiding both ground-level and aerial attacks. It would at least buy us time to respond to danger. We rigged up an alarm system using empty cans and ropes, placing them in the hallway and at the stairwell. We also set up tables, chairs, and cabinets as obstacles on the stairs. In the worst-case scenario, we could jump out of the base—five meters wasn’t high enough to cause serious injury.
After clearing the rooms in the building, we gathered enough supplies to last three days—mostly instant food and snacks. We also picked up a flashlight, a wrench, knives, and other tools. Additionally, we found thirty-seven pieces of Graystone, which we split between us, with me getting one more than Fujiang.
Although I was the only one who could create Graystone, the thought of keeping it all for myself was quickly discarded. Such selfishness was unwise. One of my mottos had always been: "A moment of greed will bring long-term loss."
I needed Fujiang’s strength, and she needed mine. We were partners, comrades. If I were petty, how could I expect her to be generous? Trust was a gamble—you had to invest in it first. I’ve always believed I have a good eye for people.
During work, Fujiang would casually pop a piece of Graystone into her mouth now and then, making a satisfied, almost embarrassed sound. For a teenage boy like me, this was a bit of a problem.
“Stop eating them,” I said, frowning. “You’re starting to look like a junkie.”
“That’s not good. I’m counting on it,” she replied without missing a beat.
“Counting on it?” I stared at her, confused by her random statement.
“In three days, I have a match against a powerful opponent, so if I can get stronger, even a little, now’s the time.”
“A match?” I asked, completely perplexed.
Fujiang gave me a strange look.
“It has nothing to do with being a model student,” she said cryptically.
Now, that was a curiosity. I shot her a playful eye-roll.
“Come on, I won’t be shocked.”
“Oh, you definitely will be,” she responded, a smirk curling on her lips.
“Not going to happen…” I muttered, but she quickly cut me off.
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“Underground fighting,” she blurted out.
At first, I didn’t take her seriously, unable to wrap my head around what she meant.
“Underground fighting? What’s that?”
“Fighting in illegal underground gambling rings.”
“What?!” I straightened up, staring at her in disbelief.
Fujiang, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. She was using a utility knife to carve some wood, occasionally holding it up to her eye to measure it with a thoughtful expression. She was intent on crafting a sturdy crossbow, but until she succeeded, I wasn’t convinced she had the skill to pull it off.
“I make my living from it,” she said casually.
“Liar. You’re a graduate student.”
“A graduate student doesn’t pay the bills,” Fujiang shrugged. “Graduate life is rough. I can’t handle it. I want to eat well, wear nice clothes, and have fun—all of that costs money.”
I’d heard that graduate school could be tough, but it didn’t seem to be the case for all students. There were plenty of shady things happening, but that wasn’t my concern. What struck me was how Fujiang had chosen to make money—through underground fighting. It seemed utterly reckless.
“Surely you could easily get a good job?”
“Of course, but that’s a hassle.” Fujiang gave me a condescending look. “I can fight in one match, take a cut, and make five million. Regular jobs don’t pay that fast.”
Five million!
I couldn’t even imagine earning that much in my lifetime. Just for reference, I only got a hundred bucks a month for pocket money, which some of my classmates envied. The number Fujiang mentioned hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me dizzy and disoriented, with no sense of reality.
“Women’s fighting?”
“Not just that. Most of the time, it’s no-holds-barred, no gender distinction.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked, my voice tinged with concern.
“Of course,” Fujiang said with a smirk, her lips curling. She raised her right hand and pointed a finger at me, mimicking a gun. “Danger brings wealth. As long as you win, it’s all good.”
Just win, and everything’s fine? Fujiang seemed to never consider the possibility of losing.
I’d once imagined we might be compatible, but it seemed I was wrong. Our personalities and values didn’t align at all. While danger could indeed bring wealth, I cared more about the cost-effectiveness of it all. I would choose a more stable, safer way to make money.
“What if you lose?” I asked.
“Such a dumb question,” Fujiang answered dismissively. “Failure means death. Don’t even think about it.”
Her values were extreme, and I didn’t know how to respond. Everyone had their own choices and struggles. Compared to me, Fujiang was the adult here, and I decided it wasn’t my place to lecture her on personal matters.
I decided to shift the topic and focus back on the task at hand. My job was to secure the windows with wooden boards and draw the heavy curtains to block out any light when we used the kerosene lamps and flashlights at night. So far, we couldn’t be sure how the monsters would react to light.
By the time I finished, it was already past seven in the evening. I was drenched in sweat, and my arms ached like they were about to cramp. Fujiang mocked my lack of stamina, but I didn’t have the energy to respond. It was well past dinner time, and my stomach was growling.
I lingered between the Graystone and food, tearing open bags of chips and chocolate.
Using Graystone to fill my stomach would be a waste, even though it could definitely do the job.
The stuff was a lot like the magic beans in the manga *Dragon Ball*—it could heal wounds and fully restore energy in an instant. Despite its stone-like appearance, I sometimes wondered if it was even inorganic at all.
“Did you secure the windows?” Fujiang asked.
“Of course.”
“No zombies can break through, no light can leak?”
“Yep.”
“Then why not make some instant noodles?” Fujiang set a portable gas stove down in front of me. I recognized it from pictures—one of those camping models. She fiddled with it for a moment, and soon, a soft blue flame flickered from the stove.
As the night deepened, the room grew darker, and shadows danced on the walls. Fujiang’s face, illuminated by the glow of the stove, was calm, and in that small, enclosed room, I found a strange sense of peace.
“Alright, fine,” I said. I grabbed an instant noodle cup—Yunchun’s beef flavor, though there was, of course, no beef inside.