The Post-Apocalyptic Rival Who Crashed My Wedding with a Baby - Chapter 23

Jiang Weiqing looked up, her eyes filled with bewilderment. Wasn’t this the exact same dialogue that had triggered her entry into the hallucination the first time?

Despite the many questions buried in her heart, she repeated her previous response without a word. It felt as if her body and soul were being pulled apart as she retraced her steps back to the cottage once again.

The generous stranger gifting her sea fish, performing water magic for the baby, drinking the delicious seaweed soup… scene after scene was hauntingly familiar. They all told Jiang Weiqing the same thing: she was trapped in a loop.

Before she could fully wrap her head around the situation, time flowed like water, and in the blink of an eye, she was back at the breakfast table the next morning.

Miao Jialing’s expression was the same; her tone was identical. She asked the exact same question as before, and the repetition sent a shiver down Jiang Weiqing’s spine.

“Captain, how many days are left until your wedding anniversary with Sister Qingyu?”

Jiang Weiqing broke into a cold sweat. Last time, it was failing to answer this very question that had caused the reset, plunging her back into the cycle. She tried her best to remain calm, taking a slow, methodical bite of a steamed bun while her mind raced. Since she truly didn’t know the answer, she could only try to stall for time.

To the others, she appeared perfectly composed.

The long silence prompted An Songyu to scratch his chin and arch an eyebrow. “Captain, you don’t actually know, do you?”

Jiang Weiqing let out a derisive snort, her tone firm. “How could that be possible?” Internally, however, she was consumed by guilt and panic. Under the pressure of their collective gaze, she feigned indifference and let out a light cough, looking toward Shen Qingyu. “Qingyu, I’m going to test you. How many days until our anniversary?”

To make it more believable, she added, “I’ve already prepared your gift in advance.”

Jiang Weiqing gave herself a mental pat on the back for her wit. Using an opponent’s strength against them was a supreme tactic from the Art of War. If she didn’t know the answer, the Shen Qingyu in front of her certainly would.

Just as she was feeling smug, Shen Qingyu’s expression shifted. Her voice was icy and certain. “Who are you? You aren’t Jiang Weiqing.”

Faced with those questioning eyes, Jiang Weiqing’s lips trembled. She wanted to defend herself, but as soon as the words were spoken, the world around her dissolved into chaos. Her vision blurred, and when she opened her eyes again…

Golden sand, impossibly blue water, the crashing sound of the waves… the beach seemed to be mocking her.

Jiang Weiqing bit her lip, swallowing a string of curses. She tried to maintain her dignity, refusing to look like someone who had just failed to clear a level in a game. But compared to her previous states of confusion, she had at least figured one thing out:

Miao Jialing’s question was a death flag.

The direct cause of the last two resets was her failure to provide the correct date for the wedding anniversary. A sharp glint flashed in her eyes. She wasn’t as frustrated as before; now that she knew the win condition, she just had to find that date to avoid making the same mistake.

Deciding to play along, she began to move through the plot. Perhaps because she was viewing the story more as an outsider now, Jiang Weiqing noticed that the Shen Qingyu in this hallucination seemed to truly love her.

Shen Qingyu was as quiet as ever, but her love was manifested in the details. She made extra seaweed soup because she knew Weiqing liked it. Her gaze lingered on Weiqing every five minutes. If she saw Weiqing taking an extra bite of a certain dish, she would silently push the plate closer to her.

The more Jiang Weiqing observed, the more absurd this hallucination felt. But since she was technically occupying the role of the rival’s lover, she felt a quiet, secret satisfaction.

Time slipped away, and night fell once more. In the bathroom, the deep purple little octopus struggled slightly, using its flexible body to slip from the human palm and begin a thorough search of the room.

Jiang Weiqing tried to keep her movements silent, but the sound of water followed her. She cast a careful glance at the woman in the tub. Fortunately, Shen Qingyu was just as before, her eyes tightly shut in a deep sleep. This allowed Jiang Weiqing to relax.

The room wasn’t very large. The double bed and the baby’s cradle took up nearly two-thirds of the space. On the reddish-brown wooden desk, aside from the framed photo, were several books scattered about.

The Encyclopedia of Weapon Forging, Principles of Household Appliances, Mecha Maintenance Fantasies… Jiang Weiqing took one look and turned her head away in boredom. She muttered to herself, How can Shen Qingyu be this dull? The books ranged from eighty to two hundred pages, filled with dry theories and obscure technical jargon—perfect for a sleeping pill. She was about to look elsewhere, but she suspected Shen Qingyu might have left a clue about their anniversary in the books; she’d heard that academic types often had such quirks.

With a sigh, she forced herself to flip through them page by page. It was clear Shen Qingyu read these often; the edges were worn, and the pages were filled with dense notes in black ink. On one page, she found a sketch of a mecha with power sources and mechanical parts meticulously labeled. The few strokes were enough to make Jiang Weiqing feel the power and charm of the machine.

Unfortunately, even with the technology before the collapse, such a thing was impossible, let alone now. The deeper she delved, the more impressed Jiang Weiqing became. It made sense why Chen Huawei called her “Goddess Qing.” To study these boring subjects so deeply and to be able to design a functional-looking mecha from a “fantasy” was beyond impressive.

She skimmed through the books for twenty minutes. She wondered how many hundreds of twenty-minute sessions Shen Qingyu had spent on them. Just as she felt she was getting nowhere, she noticed the last page of Mecha Maintenance Fantasies felt unusually thick.

She pressed down on it with her soft tentacles. The sensation of a foreign object was unmistakable. She pursed her lips, picked up a utility knife from the desk with her beak, and began to peel the page back bit by bit. A letter fell out.

Jiang Weiqing’s eyes widened. Seeing the pink paper and the pristine condition, she hesitated. A memory from the engagement ceremony flashed through her mind. Could this be one of the love letters I wrote?

She had no interest in peeping into someone else’s mail, but if it was a letter she had written, then reading it technically didn’t count as peeping.

She used the natural secretions from her tentacles to dampen the edge, prying the sheets apart. A matching pink stationery appeared before her eyes. However, the handwriting was vigorous, powerful, and utterly unfamiliar. She immediately realized she had guessed wrong.

She skimmed a few lines, intending to respect the privacy, but was involuntarily drawn in by the words.

Today’s Debate Topic: Is true equality actually equal?

Response: I believe it is not. Any equality that is deliberately sought is merely a distortion of kindness and conscience. It is undeniable that people have different strengths and IQs; in any concrete scenario, “equality” becomes a pseudo-concept…

The forceful handwriting and sharp insights made Jiang Weiqing close her eyes for a moment. She looked over at the sleeping Shen Qingyu in the bathtub. Through the letter, she felt as if she were touching a thoughtful, profound soul.

Her reason told her to stop, but she was spellbound and finished the letter in one go. To her disappointment, the final paragraph started a thought and then cut off abruptly, never finished. What’s the difference between this and an author who leaves a story on a cliffhanger? she grumbled internally.

Driven by a strange curiosity, she began to look through the other books on the shelf. I’m just looking for the anniversary date, she told herself as she found another letter tucked into another volume.

But when she opened this one, her expression changed. The beautiful handwriting from before was gone, replaced by a style that was awkward and slanted, like a primary schooler’s. Yet, the handwriting gave her an eerie sense of familiarity.

She scrutinized it. It was Lin Qitong’s handwriting. It had a very distinct trait: the vertical strokes were always pulled very long.

Jiang Weiqing scanned the debate points in the letter, and her face grew pale and twisted. These arguments… weren’t these the ones she had written to Lin Qitong?

She remembered it vividly. The university library had hosted a pen-pal event. Initially, she didn’t want to join, but when she heard both Lin Qitong and Shen Qingyu had signed up, she couldn’t sit still. What if the two of them became close? She signed up immediately and, by a stroke of incredible luck, was paired with Lin Qitong.

She had been overjoyed. Terrified that Qitong would think her views were too mundane, she had spent countless hours in the library reading, and her grades had improved drastically during that period.

But now… Lin Qitong’s handwriting, but her views.

Jiang Weiqing wasn’t stupid. She bit her lip as a theory formed. Lin Qitong had plagiarized her letters and sent them, word for word, to Shen Qingyu. Anger flared in her heart as she realized the deeper truth. During the pen-pal event, she had marveled at how the girl with the sweet face possessed such sharp, unconventional views in her letters.

But the truth was that the person she had been corresponding with for four years of university wasn’t Lin Qitong. It was Shen Qingyu.

At the engagement ceremony, when the officiant mentioned they “fell in love through letters,” Lin Qitong hadn’t shown a shred of guilt. Jiang Weiqing wanted to scream. If Qitong were here, she would demand to know why.

Jiang Weiqing blinked hard, forcing herself to stay focused. She was here for the anniversary date. Just as she was about to give up, she saw a date on the back of a page. Through the thin paper, she could clearly distinguish a ‘2’.

Her intuition told her this was it! But before she could flip the page, a hand grabbed the book. Shen Qingyu had woken up. She pulled the book away, her voice firm. “You shouldn’t play with these.”

Play? Jiang Weiqing was speechless. How did she look like she was playing?

Soon, the knock came at the door. Shen Qingyu repeated her previous routine—turning on the shower and giving Weiqing a look. Weiqing felt like an NPC following a script; she crawled away, frustrated that she had been so close.

As expected, the rest of the plot played out exactly the same until Miao Jialing reached the death question.

“Captain, how long until your anniversary with Sister Qingyu?”

Having learned her lesson, she knew she couldn’t dodge. She had to guess. Maybe she’d get lucky. She forced a fake smile and said tentatively, “Seven… seven days?”

The next second, the world went black.

Dammit!

Even with her high level of self-control, Jiang Weiqing couldn’t help but curse. She was in the loop again. The repetition was starting to make her numb. But unlike before, she finally had a plan to break it.

Thinking of this, Jiang Weiqing couldn’t help but feel a sliver of relief, and she went back to leisurely enjoying her delicious seaweed soup.

When night fell, she transformed into a little octopus once again. Compared to the fear, panic, and tension of the previous few times, her mood was now trending toward calm. She even began to slowly observe, master, and experiment with her cephalopod body. The flexibility and softness of the eight tentacles exceeded her imagination. This time, with a clear objective, she went straight for the red book.

She carefully flipped the book to that specific page, casting a sidelong glance at Shen Qingyu, who was sleeping soundly in the bathtub. Good—no one would disturb her. Even so, her heart hammered against her ribs, and she slowed the frequency of her breathing.

Delay brings change was a principle Jiang Weiqing always lived by. She decisively checked the page number, her eyes clearly scanning the remaining two digits: 17.

Put together, it was 2 months and 17 days.

This time, Jiang Weiqing was brimming with confidence. Her smile was so bright it even piqued Shen Qingyu’s curiosity. To this, Jiang Weiqing simply put on the air of a profound master, saying airily, “It’s nothing; I’m just feeling a bit happy.” In reality, she was laughing her head off internally.

Jiang Weiqing straightened her hair, feeling that the morning time was passing far too slowly. She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Miao Jialing, her eyes full of provocation. Although Miao Jialing found it a bit strange, she still dutifully asked the fatal question: “Captain, how long until your wedding anniversary with Sister Qingyu?”

Jiang Weiqing had been waiting for this moment. She took a slow, methodical sip of her soup, then flashed a supreme, confident smile. “Two months and 17 days.”

Just when she thought she could finally advance the plot, she was met with that familiar sudden darkness. She let out a wordless pout, not understanding why the answer was wrong. With Shen Qingyu’s rigorous personality, how could she have written it down incorrectly?

Suddenly, the answer from the previous time floated into her mind. It dawned on her: weren’t 2 months and 17 days exactly 77 days? This meant she had actually been correct the last time as well.

Perhaps… the correctness of the answer didn’t matter at all. Was the point simply to trap her in the hallucination, forcing her into a loop over and over again to prevent her from returning to reality?

Jiang Weiqing clutched her head, feeling a splitting pain. She felt like she had walked into a maze where exits appeared in every direction, only to be blocked by fog the next second, making it impossible to see the way out. This time, she couldn’t maintain her leisurely attitude; a trace of irritability flashed between her brows.

She had heard many people talk about how to deal with such hallucinations: you had to personally kill the simulated family or lovers within the dream, because they were all illusions. However, hallucinations usually existed to satisfy human desires, so very few people could actually bring themselves to do it.

But to Jiang Weiqing, it was different. She and Shen Qingyu were rivals—deadly enemies. To kill Shen Qingyu for the sake of her own life was a perfectly normal thing to do. Thinking this, a flash of murderous intent flickered in her eyes.

Once she followed Shen Qingyu into the house, her gaze wandered restlessly around the kitchen. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she silently hid a kitchen knife. Watching Shen Qingyu focus on cooking with her back turned, Weiqing recognized it as the perfect opportunity.

“Why did you come in?” Shen Qingyu’s expression looked a bit surprised, but her hands didn’t stop as she quickly reheated some slightly cold dishes.

Jiang Weiqing said with a beaming smile, “I came to help you.” Even as she spoke, she exerted silent force, plunging the blade directly toward Shen Qingyu’s heart.

The next second, her eyelashes quivered. She was absolutely certain the hilt had reached the chest, but the hollow sensation and Shen Qingyu’s lack of reaction left her stunned. The knife was useless; it was as if she had stabbed a phantom. This effectively cut off her last perceived way out.

Her completely bewildered look immediately aroused Shen Qingyu’s confusion. She blinked and asked, “What’s wrong?”

According to Jiang Weiqing’s plan, Shen Qingyu should have been bleeding out on the floor. Instead, she stood there perfectly intact. Weiqing pursed her lips and muttered, “Nothing.” Her mind raced as she met the toddler’s bright, black eyes.

Should I kill the baby instead?

She quickly dismissed the thought. If Shen Qingyu couldn’t be killed, the baby surely couldn’t either. She took a deep breath and began to analyze the internal logic of the dream. If this were a normal, ordinary hallucination, it would grasp the most beautiful memories to satisfy the victim’s desires, keeping them inside forever.

But her hallucination was different. It was obviously fake. She certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in a dream with Shen Qingyu.

Wait! She caught the “blind spot” in the logic. Usually, the way to break a hallucination is to struggle to find a flaw and escape. But what if she did the opposite? What if she decided to stay? The answer to Miao Jialing’s question didn’t matter. What mattered was her own intent.

Perhaps because she had grasped the key, time suddenly accelerated. She opened her eyes to hear Miao Jialing’s voice in her ear once more. “Captain, how long until your anniversary with Sister Qingyu?”

Jiang Weiqing took Shen Qingyu’s hand and said, “It’s every single day.” Her eyes were filled with profound, affectionate emotion. Seeing the touched expression in Shen Qingyu’s eyes, Weiqing knew she had finally gotten it right.

*****

“Jiang Weiqing, wake up! Wake up!”

The stinging sensation of a hand lightly slapping her face constantly stimulated Jiang Weiqing, telling her she had finally escaped the hallucination. She snapped her eyes open and grabbed Shen Qingyu’s hand, saying somewhat aggrievedly, “Dear wife, stop hitting me.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Having spent so long in the dream, she had naturally carried over the interaction style from the loop. But this woman was not that Shen Qingyu.

Shen Qingyu gave her a frigid look, then promptly slapped her again. “Are you awake now?” she asked icily.

The blade-like gaze made Jiang Weiqing let out a sheepish laugh. She wisely covered her face and said, “I’m awake, I’m awake!” If she didn’t snap out of it, her face was going to be swollen.

Seeing that Jiang Weiqing had regained consciousness, Shen Qingyu let her go. Weiqing quickly scanned the surroundings. “Where is the main body?”

Shen Qingyu gestured toward the ground. “Here.”

When Jiang Weiqing had been pulled into the dream, Shen Qingyu had been frantic for a moment. But somehow, whatever had happened inside caused the main body’s power to drain rapidly, giving her the chance to strike.

Looking at the water droplet floating inside the green soul crystal, Jiang Weiqing asked in surprise, “Isn’t this a Wood-type crystal? Why did it become Water-type?”

Shen Qingyu’s eyes flickered briefly. “Maybe it was dual Wood-Water type.”

Jiang Weiqing rubbed her chin, her eyes full of doubt. She hadn’t seen the plant use Water powers once, but she had no reason to think Shen Qingyu was lying. She suppressed her confusion and asked, “How should we split this crystal?”

Shen Qingyu glanced at it indifferently. “You take it. Aren’t you a Water Esper?”

Using a crystal of the same attribute yielded twice the result with half the effort. Thinking about how she was on the verge of dropping below Level 4, Jiang Weiqing didn’t refuse. If the Longyu Squad was going to face a Level 6 Zombie King at Chonghai, they needed every bit of strength they could get.

The toddler let out a few “ya-yas” toward Jiang Weiqing, trying to get her attention. Seeing the child’s green tongue, Weiqing grinned at Shen Qingyu. “Told you a color-changing candy wouldn’t hurt.” It seemed Shen Qingyu wasn’t such an old-fashioned stickler after all.

Shen Qingyu paused, then said vaguely, “She probably snuck it when I wasn’t looking. You still owe me a crystal, remember to pay it back. Other attributes are fine too.”

Jiang Weiqing nodded. “I’ll give you two.” Metal-type zombies were too hard to find anyway. With that, they reached a preliminary agreement.

“After I killed the main body, I searched the area and found some interesting things,” Shen Qingyu continued.

Jiang Weiqing followed the direction of her finger, and her brow jumped. There sat a multicolored black stone and a charred four-inch data display panel. She sniffed the air, catching the lingering scent of burnt electronics.

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