Chapter 2: Trading Beauty for Water at the End of the World

The world was shrouded in black fog, and a deathly silence reigned outside the window.

Mu Chen tore open a bread package and tucked a sausage inside, settling his breakfast. The taste of processed food left much to be desired, but in this godforsaken weather, having anything to eat at all was a blessing.

On his phone screen, red notification dots for friend requests were piling up, mostly from residents of the apartment complex he didn't even know.

"Ding-dong."

Another one.

Mu Chen swiped it open. The applicant was "No Cilantro." This guy had been begging him and crying his eyes out just last night, practically ready to grovel at his feet.

A message from "No Cilantro" popped up: "Brother Chen, Brother Chen! I'm so hungry my stomach is sticking to my spine. Can you give me something to eat? Water would work too!"

Mu Chen tapped the screen: "I have food, but I need to see a photo first."

"No Cilantro" replied instantly: "Huh? Brother Chen, what time is it? Why do you need a photo now?"

Mu Chen scoffed; the guy still wanted to pull a fast one on him. "Just send it. Stop the nonsense. And remember, I want a full-body shot. No filters. Got it?"

A few seconds later, a photo popped up. Mu Chen opened it and nearly spat out his bread. The man in the photo must have weighed close to two hundred pounds, with a bloated face and a greasy undershirt, winking and pouting at the camera in a pose he clearly thought was incredibly cool.

"Damn, that’s an eyesore!" Mu Chen swiped his finger, and "No Cilantro" went straight onto the blacklist.

A few minutes later, "No Cilantro" was throwing a tantrum in the Jinjiang Residential Community group chat.

"Building 11, 2704 #NoCilantro: @Mu Chen (Group Owner), you son of a bitch! Just because you’re hoarding some food, you think you’re something special? I’m asking you nicely, and you’re still trying to pick a fight? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Building 11, 2704 #NoCilantro: Everyone see this? This guy is a total lowlife, trying to profit from a disaster. He’s got no good intentions!"

With "No Cilantro" ranting, the group chat exploded.

"Building 11, 1602 #Chen Jun: Mu Chen, leave yourself a way out. It’s better for everyone in the long run."

"Building 11, 1103 #Neighborhood Committee Member Chen Rong: @Mu Chen (Group Owner), your behavior is extremely selfish. In the face of collective interests, personal gain should be set aside. Especially in times of crisis, we all need to help each other. You should turn over your supplies for us to distribute uniformly."

That old woman, Chen, was trying to take the moral high ground again. Mu Chen glanced at the screen and ignored her. Instead, he took a photo of the corner of his living room. His bottled water was still stacked like a small mountain, now accompanied by several large boxes of instant noodles and compressed biscuits. He threw the photo into the group.

"Mu Chen (Group Owner): The goods are right here. If you’ve got the guts, come up and take them yourselves."

The group fell deathly silent. That mountain of supplies carried more weight than any words could.

"Building 11, 904 #Man Like the Wind: Brother Chen is a legend! That’s how you do it!"

But the silence didn't last long before someone else chimed in.

"Building 8, Property Management #Manager Chen: Now look, Mu Chen, everyone in the complex is severely lacking food and water. Why don't you share a little bit? Consider it an emergency relief. I’m speaking on behalf of the property management office—we’re borrowing it. We’ll definitely pay you back later."

Manager Chen had always thrown his weight around, relying on his position.

"Mu Chen (Group Owner): Pay me back with what? Your life?"

Mu Chen retorted mercilessly.

"Building 11, 1103 #Neighborhood Committee Member Chen Rong: Mu Chen, how can you say that! Manager Chen is thinking of everyone!"

Mu Chen didn't even bother reading the nonsense. He knew exactly what these people were like—they were just trying to get something for nothing. In the apocalypse, excessive sympathy was the quickest way to die.

Just then, a new friend request popped up. The avatar was a landscape painting, and the nickname was "Hehe."

Mu Chen clicked "Accept."

"Hehe": "Hello, are you Mr. Mu Chen?"

Mu Chen raised an eyebrow: "That's me. What do you want?"

"Hehe": "I saw in the group chat that you have some water. I would like to trade for some, if possible?"

The voice sounded young, but there was an urgency in her tone, though she remained polite.

Mu Chen felt a spark of interest: "Oh? How do you plan to trade?"

"Hehe": "I have some compressed biscuits, chocolate, and a few cans. If that’s not enough, I also have some pure gold jewelry. That should be worth something, right?"

Mu Chen curled his lip: "I’m not interested in those things right now."

Perhaps sensing his hesitation, the other side went silent for a few seconds.

Mu Chen typed: "We’ll stick to the old rules. First, a photo. Full-body, remember. Don't you dare use a filter."

"Hehe": "Is… is that really necessary?"

Mu Chen: "Are you kidding me? There’s no credit here. If you’re ugly, don’t waste my time."

Silence. More silence. But a few minutes later, a photo came through.

The girl in the photo wore a simple white T-shirt and denim shorts. She had no makeup on, but her clean, delicate beauty was undeniable. She was tall and slender, with straight, graceful legs—she met his standards perfectly. Her features were small and refined, her skin fair. In this apocalyptic setting, she was a sight to behold.

"Ding! Target meeting criteria detected. Looks: 8.5/10. Physique: 9/10. Age: 20." The system notification rang in Mu Chen's mind.

"Not bad."

Mu Chen sent those two words, followed by his location: "Come to the 26th floor. I’m on the 28th. Wait for me at the stairwell."

"Hehe": "Okay, thank you!"

Mu Chen put his phone down and walked to the door, peeking through the peephole. The hallway was pitch black and eerily quiet. He opened the door and leaned against the frame, waiting.

Before long, the soft sound of footsteps echoed in the stairwell. A figure appeared at the 26th-floor landing—the girl from the photo, Chen Jiahe. She clutched her backpack tightly, her body stiff.

"You're here," Mu Chen said, his voice grating in the hollow hallway.

Chen Jiahe nodded, her voice trembling: "I... my name is Chen Jiahe. I live in 11-3001." She paused, as if making a difficult decision: "I brought some food, and some jewelry my mother left behind. I want to trade for water."

Mu Chen looked her over, his gaze settling on her pale but beautiful face.

"I don't need food, and I don't need jewelry."

Chen Jiahe's face went even paler. Her palms broke into a sweat, and her voice wavered with panic: "Then... what do you want?"

Mu Chen smiled.

"Simple. I want you."

He paused, watching as Chen Jiahe’s mouth fell slightly open.

"Trade yourself for the water. One day of service for three days of supplies. Think carefully. I don't wait for anyone."

The hallway fell into a deathly silence. Only Chen Jiahe’s ragged breathing and Mu Chen’s emotionless, predatory gaze remained.

"I..."