The Post-Apocalyptic Rival Who Crashed My Wedding with a Baby - Chapter 5

For a bird, the sky is its eternal domain.

Compared to humans, who are tethered to the earth on two legs, the heavens are a sanctuary—a home that requires only the beat of a wing to traverse. This was especially true for a Wind-type raven; under the shroud of darkness, it could carry Shen Qingyu and the child anywhere, vanishing from the sight of all.

But “all” did not include Jiang Weiqing.

She scanned the perimeter, and after confirming no one was watching, she tapped her fingertips lightly against her eyes. Her sapphire-blue pupils darkened as if ink had been dropped into them, shifting into a pair of chilling, icy-blue heterochromatic eyes. Her narrow gaze became slightly inhuman; upon closer inspection, it seemed as if her pupils were composed of thousands of compound lenses. A single glance was enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.

This was Jiang Weiqing’s second ability: Spirit Eyes.

Once activated, her world ceased to be made of simple objects and figures. A faint grey veil settled over her retinas, and it was as if she were looking through a pair of high-tech lenses that allowed her to see the drifting particles of energy within every living thing. Depending on the element and the strength of the individual, these motes of light varied in color and size.

Wind-type energy, for instance, was a vivid cyan.

She tilted her head. In the sky above, a deep cyan ribbon stretched across the horizon like a celestial guideline. It was painfully obvious.

However, a second later, the clear trail of energy suddenly fractured and became chaotic—a tangled mess of threads, like a spiderweb with no exit, weaving through the clouds until it was nearly indistinguishable.

Jiang Weiqing saw through the trick instantly. She let out a derisive snort. “Getting clever, are we? Trying to throw me off.”

To her, such a tactic was child’s play. Energy could be scattered, but as long as Wind-type powers were in use, traces were inevitable. Through her Spirit Eyes, the trajectory of traveling energy was as clear as if she were using a magnifying glass. Little Black had only just left, after all.

Following the trail with calculated precision, Jiang Weiqing headed west without hesitation. Eventually, she came to a halt before a pitch-black cave.

“Little Black?” she called out experimentally.

It was nearly 9:30 PM, and the world was swallowed by darkness. A cold, eerie wind brushed against her arms, bringing with it an unidentifiable chill. Her own voice echoed back from the cave mouth, elongated and warped, sending a shiver down her spine. The faint, rhythmic drip-drop of water leaking from some hidden fissure echoed against the stones.

It was far too quiet. Every rustle of a leaf felt amplified, designed to trigger a primal fear.

But Jiang Weiqing was not an ordinary person. She had no faith in ghosts or gods, and her vast experience fighting zombies had left her utterly fearless. Moreover, her vision had already marked three distinct energy signatures.

A cyan light, a golden light, and a white light that was nearly half the size of the others. The latter two flickered weakly, like candles in a storm, threatening to extinguish at any moment.

Knowing Little Black was inside, she raised her voice, speaking with measured calm. “Little Black, I’ll give you three seconds to consider. If you don’t come out, I’m throwing away all your treasures.”

By “treasures,” she meant the collection of glass shards, diamonds, and gold trinkets the bird obsessed over. Targeting the bird’s “seven-inch heel,” Jiang Weiqing pulled out a black cloth bag and made a grand show of preparing to hurl it away.

“Three… two…”

“One.” As the final count dropped, she loosened her grip, letting the bag fall.

A split second later, she was rewarded with the frantic sound of wings beating against the air. The black raven shot out like a bullet, snapping its sharp beak shut around its “treasures” just before they hit the ground.

At that exact moment, Jiang Weiqing flicked her wrist. Her water energy surged, binding the bird tightly in an inescapable trap. Little Black struggled for a moment before realizing it was futile. Its wings slowed, and it fixed Jiang Weiqing with a venomous glare.

Jiang Weiqing wasn’t bothered in the least. She arched an eyebrow and looked at the bird with a look of mock confusion. “Oh? How did this piece of rainbow glass end up with me?”

This particular shard of multicolored glass created beautiful rainbows when hit by sunlight. Little Black treated it as its most prized possession, often polishing it with a clean rag. It was practically a family heirloom.

The raven, which had given up on struggling, suddenly became hysterical, erupting into a series of frantic caws. Jiang Weiqing couldn’t speak “Raven,” but she knew those weren’t compliments. The bird was likely cursing her quite colorfully.

Unfazed, she tossed the rainbow glass high into the air. She watched as it plummeted to the ground, shattering into a thousand sparkling shards. Holding her forehead with a look of feigned distress, she sighed, “Oh, Little Black, I’m so sorry. My hand slipped.”

The raven was livid, but it knew Jiang Weiqing’s twisted personality. It immediately hung its head, its eyes turning pleading as it looked at her.

[Boss, I was wrong.]

The water ropes binding its wings loosened, reforming into a small water ring around the raven’s left leg.

“And what exactly did you do wrong?” Jiang Weiqing asked, enjoying herself.

The raven’s beady eyes darted around before it chose to hang its head lower, gently pecking the back of Jiang Weiqing’s hand with a look of feigned bewilderment.

Jiang Weiqing knew the bird was highly intelligent and was simply playing dumb. She let out a cold snort and rapped the bird sharply on the head. “Shen Qingyu is my rival. You defied my orders and saved her.” It had been a serious blow to her ego in front of Shen Qingyu. “Lead the way. I’m going in to catch them.”

Little Black hurriedly grabbed a branch from the ground, obediently rubbing it against a stone to start a fire. It then flew beside her, acting the part of the devoted servant.

Jiang Weiqing nodded in satisfaction, patting the bird’s head. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you another piece of rainbow glass next time.”

The cave was uncharted territory, as dark and airless as a sealed plastic bag. Little Black hovered near her, the torchlight flickering as the bird moved. Instead of illuminating the path, the shifting shadows actually made it harder to see.

Since the apocalypse, Espers’ physical attributes had increased alongside their powers. Most had 20/20 vision or better, capable of seeing clearly even at night.

Jiang Weiqing let out a cold laugh, knowing the bird was intentionally slowing her down. She reached out and snatched the torch from its beak. “Little Black, I’ll take it from here,” she said with a pleasant smile.

The raven tried to protest, but the water ring on its leg tightened, causing it to tumble mid-air. The torch landed steadily in Jiang Weiqing’s hand. The sound of Little Black’s wings grew more agitated, the echoes in the empty cave serving as a warning to those deeper inside.

Jiang Weiqing continued forward, unhurried. She was familiar with the area around Dragon City and had been to this cave before. It was a dead end. There were no other exits. She had her prey cornered.

She expected to hear the sound of scurrying footsteps or desperate hiding, but instead, she heard a trembling, tiny voice.

“Mama… Mama…”

Experienced as she was, Jiang Weiqing’s first instinct was that it was a trap. She tightened her focus, spinning her gun around her thumb before pointing it toward the sound.

She found Shen Qingyu. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes tightly shut in a deep coma. Beads of cold sweat rolled down her forehead, and her body was racked with tremors. She was covered in scrapes and bruises, but none were fatal; she was clearly suffering from extreme energy depletion.

Jiang Weiqing bit her tongue. The sharp sting of pain confirmed this wasn’t an illusion. Yet even in such a weakened state, Shen Qingyu’s right arm was wrapped tightly around the child, ensuring she remained safe from any danger.

The toddler was the picture of worry. She used her tiny arms to try and nudge Shen Qingyu awake, but there was no response. After several attempts, tears pooled on the girl’s lashes, but she didn’t let them fall. Instead, like a miniature adult, she crawled closer and pressed her palm against Shen Qingyu’s forehead to check her temperature. Once she realized it wasn’t a fever, she let out a tiny sigh of relief.

Jiang Weiqing was baffled. How could such a well-behaved child be a zombie?

Before the apocalypse, the sheer pressure of survival had caused birth rates to plummet. After the collapse, it was even worse. Even in a base as large as Dragon City, only about three hundred infants were born each year. They were horrifyingly rare. A child this sensible and sweet was a treasure.

As if sensing her hesitation, the System interface flashed before her again.

[Please immediately kill the High-Risk Targets: Level 5 Esper Shen Qingyu and the Zombie Offspring!]

The metallic voice chimed in: “Host, Shen Qingyu is unconscious. This is your best opportunity to eliminate her and the child.”

Jiang Weiqing’s face registered shock. “You’re saying this child is Shen Qingyu’s?” She had assumed the girl was a foundling. She pressed further, “How can an Esper give birth to a zombie child? Espers are immune to the virus.”

It was a plausible scenario for a “Normie,” but for an Esper? Impossible.

The System, realizing it had said too much, went silent. No matter how Jiang Weiqing prodded, it refused to answer. But Jiang Weiqing felt she had finally grasped a thread of the truth.

Seeing her hesitation, the System issued a cold broadcast.

[Main Quest: Get Engaged to Lin Qitong — FAILED]

[Penalty will be implemented within three hours. Please complete this side quest immediately to offset the penalty.]

The message repeated three times. By the third time, it didn’t sound like a prompt—it sounded like a threat.

Jiang Weiqing was not someone who could be easily bullied. Her expression turned cold. “This is a side quest,” she emphasized.

She viewed her relationship with the System as a partnership: she completed tasks, and she got rewards. The System needed her to finish quests to gather energy to survive. Side quests were, by definition, optional. For the System to be this insistent—bordering on coercive—was highly suspicious.

“This is a rare opportunity,” the System explained.

It wasn’t entirely wrong. Shen Qingyu was incredibly powerful; the fact that she had escaped a room full of people at the ceremony was proof enough. In a coma, she was like meat on a chopping block.

Jiang Weiqing’s eyes flickered. She stepped out from the shadows, revealing herself.

“Mama… Mama…” the soft voice called out again.

This time, the child wasn’t calling for Shen Qingyu. She was looking at Jiang Weiqing.

Jiang Weiqing turned to meet those round, wide eyes. The child babbled frantically, her speech too fast to understand, but her body language was unmistakable. She wanted a hug.

Jiang Weiqing licked her lips, her voice tight. “I’m not your mother. You’ve got the wrong person.”

But the child remained frozen in that reaching posture, her stubbornness causing Jiang Weiqing to waver. However, her logic quickly returned. This isn’t a normal human child. It’s a zombie offspring. A pathogen. It must be destroyed.

At that thought, Jiang Weiqing’s gaze sharpened. She deliberately hardened her heart, looking away to avoid the child’s eyes as she walked straight to Shen Qingyu.

The toddler’s lower lip wobbled at the rejection. Little Black, watching from the side, felt a pang of pity. It immediately flew to the child’s side, patting her back with a wing to comfort her while shooting a look of pure condemnation at Jiang Weiqing.

Shen Qingyu lived up to her reputation as a beauty; even in her weakened state, she possessed an undeniable allure. Thanks to her elegant bone structure, she looked stunning even without a trace of makeup. From this close, Jiang Weiqing noticed a tiny beauty mark on the edge of Shen Qingyu’s earlobe. It was small and round, like a faint ruby stain against her pale skin, lending her a touch of hidden sensuality.

Jiang Weiqing slowly reached out her hand toward Shen Qingyu.

Sensing a threat, Little Black spread its wings wide, blocking the child’s view.

The System couldn’t help but chime in: “Host, death by suffocation should be swift and precise. You must…”

The System stopped mid-sentence.

It watched, stunned, as Jiang Weiqing placed her hand on Shen Qingyu’s slender neck—only to slide it up and gently pinch the woman’s earlobe, right over the beauty mark.

The System was at a loss for words as Jiang Weiqing began to knead the earlobe like a piece of dough. “Host… what are you doing?”

“Just playing with my ‘high and mighty’ rival a little,” Jiang Weiqing said righteously. She had wanted to try this for a long time. Shen Qingyu was always so cold and aloof, but her earlobes were small and soft. Playing with them felt like indulging in a glass of fine, mellow wine.

System: “…” (I think this woman’s inner pervert is coming out.)

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