The desert was a bipolar hellscape. By day, the heat made you want to peel off your own skin. By night, the temperature plummeted so violently you wished you could wear every scrap of cloth you owned.

The school bus, freshly repaired, had been sealed up tight. Windows were stuffed with rags and blankets, turning the vehicle into a steel cocoon against the sub-zero chill. Outside, the air was cold enough to kill an exposed man in hours.

Xu Lina didn’t know why Xu Jiaojiao had dragged her out into the freezing dark.

But, invoking their shared surname as a flimsy bond, she had wrapped herself in layers of cotton and stepped out of the bus.

Even bundled up like a bear, Xu Lina couldn’t hide the dangerous curves of her body. As she walked, the gazes of the male sentries lingered on her back, hungry and wistful.

In Captain Chu’s convoy, there was only one iron law: Fairness.

Unless Xu Lina consented, no one could touch her.

Even Old Man Zhang, the creep who drove the Elderly Mobility Scooter, had tried to buy her attention with a large bag of food. Xu Lina had politely, but firmly, shut him down.

And that was a bag of food. A fortune in the wasteland. Other women would have done unspeakable things for half that amount.

But Xu Lina held out. This mysterious allure made her even more desirable than the youthful Zhou sisters. She possessed a weaponized femininity—a natural grace that some women were born with, while others, like cheap knockoffs, only made fools of themselves trying to imitate.

The convoy whispered about her. What had she been before the end? A model? An actress? Even the Zhou sisters were curious. But Xu Lina kept her mouth shut and her smile polite. She didn’t offend anyone, didn’t get too close to anyone. She did her chores, pulled her weight, and used her beauty as a shield, not a crutch.

Xu Lina stomped her feet to keep the blood flowing, her breath pluming in the icy air.

“Jiaojiao, if you aren’t sleeping, I am. What do you want?”

Xu Jiaojiao stood before her, wrapped in so many layers she looked like a spherical pile of laundry. Her hair was matted with grease, and she radiated a sour, unwashed stench.

To be fair, most people in the convoy smelled. Even Xu Lina wasn’t exactly rose-scented. But Xu Jiaojiao seemed to revel in the grime.

“Sister Lina, I need to talk to you.” Xu Jiaojiao’s eyes darted around, paranoid.

“Don’t play games. It’s freezing. Spit it out.”

“Fine. Sister Lina, don’t you think this convoy is unfair?”

Xu Lina’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“There are forty-three people here. Four Sequence Beyonders. Three men, one woman. Don’t you think the balance of power is… wrong?”

Xu Lina didn’t answer. She took a subtle half-step back.

Xu Jiaojiao didn’t notice. She was working herself into a frenzy. “We scrub the floors! We cook their meals! We even let them… use us! And for what?”

“Why do the men get to eat the best food while doing nothing? Why do we slave away just to barely fill our stomachs?”

“It’s not fair!” Xu Jiaojiao hissed, her teeth clacking together.

Xu Lina watched her cold-bloodedly. She regretted stepping off the bus.

This woman was insane.

“So,” Xu Lina asked, her voice neutral. “What do you intend to do?”

“I want to bring true equality to this convoy!” Xu Jiaojiao’s eyes gleamed with delusional fervor. “I want everyone to eat their fill. I want a voice for the weak.”

She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “Sister Lina, I’ve figured it out. These ‘Sequence Beyonders’ aren’t gods. Take that Chen Ye. He’s a Beyonder, sure, but what did he do today? He turned a wrench. He fixed a car. How is that different from a normal mechanic?”

“Don’t you see? It’s all a joke. Their power is a bluff.”

“I have a plan. Chen Ye is the weakest link. He’s just a Mechanic. If we strike him first, capture him… we can leverage that power. You can be the Deputy Captain. I’ll be the Captain. We’ll build a new Utopia…”

“Stop.”

Xu Lina cut her off.

Xu Jiaojiao blinked, stunned to silence by the sharpness of the tone. She looked into Xu Lina’s eyes—eyes that were ten thousand times more beautiful, and infinitely colder, than her own.

“Jiaojiao,” Xu Lina said softly. “If you think it’s unfair, you are welcome to go out and scavenge for supplies yourself next time.”

“The Zhou sisters go out there. They face the monsters. They live well because they risk their lives. Why don’t you join them?”

Xu Jiaojiao’s face stiffened. “I…”

Face the horrors of the wasteland? She would die in five minutes. She knew it.

“Shut up and listen,” Xu Lina continued, her voice like ice. “The bus isn’t that big. Cleaning it takes an hour, tops. If you hate the work so much, I’ll do your share from now on.”

“As for women ‘degrading’ themselves? That’s their choice. A transaction. I don’t judge how people survive.”

Xu Lina took a step forward, looming over the shorter woman.

“But let me correct you on one thing. You think Chen Ye is the weakest?” She let out a dry, mocking laugh. “You idiot.”

“He is the man I’ve chosen. He is my mark. And I will not permit you to speak of him like that.”

Smack!

Xu Lina’s hand lashed out. The slap was crisp and brutal.

Xu Jiaojiao stumbled back, clutching her cheek, stunned stupid. A bright red handprint began to bloom on her dirty face.

Before the delusional woman could react, Xu Lina turned on her heel and swayed away, her hips cutting through the darkness.

Before the world ended, Xu Lina had been a “Golden Phoenix” flying out of the deep mountains of Sichuan.

She had clawed her way out of poverty with nothing but grit and beauty. She remembered crying over her university acceptance letter, clutching it like a lifeline. In college, she was the untouchable goddess, the dream of every boy on campus.

After graduation, she learned the real rules of the world. She became a “Canary”—a kept woman for a powerful tycoon.

It wasn’t a fairy tale, but it was survival. She lived in luxury while her peers struggled to pay rent. She used the tycoon’s connections to build her own safety net, planning for the day she would fly solo.

Then the world ended.

And honestly? Xu Lina didn’t hate the apocalypse.

The rules were simpler now. Brutally simple.

You work, you eat. You provide value, you survive.

Captain Chu’s convoy was a meritocracy. No one forced her to spread her legs. No one forced her to starve. She cleaned, she cooked, she kept her head down. It was fair.

The only downside was the hunger. She was tired of being half-full.

Xu Lina wanted to climb again. She wanted a better perch. It was the instinct of a Canary.

Initially, she had targeted Captain Chu. But after a few subtle tests—a brushed arm, a lingering look—she realized the man was broken. He looked at her not with lust, but with total indifference. He was either asexual or impotent. Dead end.

Iron Lion? Too rough. A brute.

Old Man Zhang? Please. She wasn’t desperate enough to scrape the bottom of the barrel yet.

But then… Chen Ye appeared.

Young. Handsome. A Sequence Beyonder. And rumors said he was a Dual Sequence holder.

He was the jackpot.

Xu Lina had marked him. That was why she had slapped Xu Jiaojiao. It was a claim of ownership.

She hoped the slap—and the words she said—would find their way to Chen Ye’s ears.

Once he approached her, she would play it cool. Innocent. The loyal admirer. It was a game she had mastered years ago in the tycoon’s penthouse.

Back inside the bus, Xu Lina sat on her bunk, her mind racing.

Xu Jiaojiao wants to move against Chen Ye.

He probably doesn’t know.

Should I tell him?

Her lips curved into a calculating smile.

This is it. This is my opening.

But he hasn’t come back yet. I’ll wait.

What tone should I use? Scared? Indignant? Worried?

As she plotted, she began to tidy her messy hair. She reached into her inner pocket and pulled out a treasure she had been hoarding—a single, sealed wet wipe.

She hesitated, then tore the packet open.

She scrubbed her face, removing the grime of the desert, then wiped her neck, revealing the pale, elegant skin beneath.

It was an investment. And Xu Lina always expected a return on investment.