The Post-Apocalyptic Rival Who Crashed My Wedding with a Baby - Chapter 6

The System felt compelled to warn her again:

[“Host, Shen Qingyu is an extremely dangerous individual. Do not waste any more time.”]

These words seemed to remind Jiang Weiqing of something. She nodded in agreement, looking toward the toddler beside her. “Speaking of danger, this zombie child is actually the bigger threat.” After all, the child was a walking pathogen.

She paused, turning her gaze back to the girl. “It seems I should deal with her first.”

Seeing the unfriendly glint in Jiang Weiqing’s eyes, Little Black’s heart hammered against its ribs. The raven let out a series of high-pitched, frantic caws, its body swelling to several times its normal size in an instant. It scooped the child onto its back with its beak, its black eyes darting around wildly. It flared its left wing, then its right, circling in the air one moment and hugging the cave wall the next, staying on guard against a sudden strike from Jiang Weiqing.

The child, caught in this chaotic ride, shifted positions from the raven’s head to its chest. Instead of being frightened, she let out a series of giggles, showing two tiny dimples. She clapped her hands, clearly thinking this was some wonderful new game.

Jiang Weiqing curled her lip in annoyance. The power gap between a Level 5 Esper and a Level 3 mutated raven wasn’t something that could be bridged by clever tricks or being “on guard.” Simply put, if Jiang Weiqing truly wanted the child dead, she was already dead.

The System was baffled by Jiang Weiqing’s behavior. Shen Qingyu was unconscious and vulnerable and taking her life would require almost no effort yet Jiang Weiqing had turned her focus back to the “zombie offspring.” However, knowing it couldn’t force her hand, the System could only urge: [“Host, please act quickly.”]

Little Black’s “fancy” maneuvers were nothing in Jiang Weiqing’s eyes. Moreover, the child seemed to possess a natural trust and affection for her. Jiang Weiqing merely stood still and held out her arms in an invitation to a hug. Like a lamb running to its fold, the child scrambled out of the raven’s protection and jumped into Jiang Weiqing’s embrace. Not even Little Black could stop her.

Or perhaps, it was simply nature at work—the primal instinct of a child seeking its mother.

Feeling the child nestle against her, peer at her with grape-like eyes, and nuzzle her face, Jiang Weiqing felt a strange, sour-sweet ache fill her chest. It expanded within her like swelling wood ear mushrooms.

The girl was truly tiny, no more than two years old. Tiny hands, tiny arms, a tiny face, and a tiny mouth. She hadn’t even mastered language, only able to babble two words at a time. Her defenseless gaze, her bright smile, and her proactive search for affection made a wave of guilt wash over Jiang Weiqing. She had intended to kill her—simply because she was a “zombie offspring.”

Gently, Jiang Weiqing placed a hand over the child’s chest, feeling the small but steady rhythm beating beneath her palm. Despite the girl’s attempts to be lively, her overly pale complexion and a heart that skipped a beat every few cycles told a different story: her health was far more fragile than it appeared.

Seeing her hesitate, the System spoke up again, its voice rising. “Host, have you developed sympathy for it? It is a zombie offspring.” Though the mechanical voice lacked true emotion, it sounded profoundly displeased.

Jiang Weiqing stared into the void, her deep blue eyes blinking rapidly. “You claim she’s a zombie child,” she said coldly. “Where is your proof?”

“She has breath. She has a heartbeat. She has human consciousness. She shows absolutely no signs of zombification.”

In truth, Jiang Weiqing usually trusted the System’s judgment. They had worked together for three years. But the System’s repeated, desperate urging for her to complete this specific side quest felt suspicious. She tasted a hint of hidden motive. Jiang Weiqing had always trusted her instincts; that was why she was intentionally stalling.

The System seemed caught off guard by the counter-question. After a long silence, its metallic voice echoed in her mind. “This conclusion is based on precise calculations of all available data.”

Jiang Weiqing let out a dry, cold snort. “Data is dead; people are alive. I need proof, not your hypothetical calculations.”

“My data is accurate and beyond doubt,” the System snapped back instantly. But as Jiang Weiqing pointed out, it couldn’t provide a single shred of physical evidence.

Suddenly, a notification flashed before her:

[Penalty: Power regression to Level 4]

[Implementation: In 124 minutes]

The text was highlighted in bold red, growing larger as if to scream at her. Beside it, a hourglass appeared, blue sand slipping through the neck—an irreversible countdown. Jiang Weiqing knew this was the System applying pressure.

She blinked, and with a wave of her hand, the interface dissolved like mist. Her focus returned to the child’s lively black eyes. Over the years, as Espers grew stronger, zombies evolved just as fast. There were even rumors that high-level zombies could look perfectly human, learning to speak to infiltrate bases.

But humans and zombies were fundamentally different. Once human reason was lost, the bloodthirsty nature might be hidden for a time, but it could never be truly changed.

If this child really is a zombie… A dark glint passed through Jiang Weiqing’s eyes. She pressed two fingers of her right hand against her left palm and sliced. A second later, bright red blood snaked along the lines of her palm. She squeezed her hand into a fist, letting the blood drip onto the child’s lips. She watched with absolute focus.

If the girl was a zombie, no matter how well she hid it, the smell of blood would break her. Her nature would take over; her pupils would turn a deep, sightless crimson, and fangs would erupt from her jaw to tear into her prey.

Out of the child’s sight, Jiang Weiqing’s right hand was already gathering a swirl of water, ready to condense into a lethal ice-blue blade. It would take only a second to end this. Her heart hammered in her chest, caught between fear and a desperate hope.

Fortunately, her grim prediction didn’t come to pass.

Faced with the taste of blood, the child first extended a soft, curious tongue to lick it twice. Then, she let out a series of “ptui-ptui” sounds, looking at Jiang Weiqing with a resentful pout as if asking why she was being fed something so gross.

Surprise and joy surged through Jiang Weiqing, but she didn’t drop her guard. She tried to feed the girl two more drops, but the child clamped her mouth shut and stubbornly turned her head away, her nose wrinkling in clear disgust.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed from the distance. “Captain, what are you doing?”

Jiang Weiqing turned to see Lin Yunxia, with An Songyu and the others right behind her. Little Black immediately flapped its wings, screeching at Yunxia to announce the truth: “She was going to—”

Before the raven could finish, the water ring on its leg tightened. Jiang Weiqing snatched the bird out of the air with one hand. Under her sharp, warning glare, Little Black swallowed the rest of its words.

“The child looked hungry,” Jiang Weiqing said, fabricating an excuse on the fly. “So I fed her a bit of blood.”

Miao Jialing rolled her eyes. “Captain, do you have no common sense? You can’t feed a baby blood!”

Jiang Weiqing gave a sheepish laugh. “There was nothing else on hand.”

Lin Yunxia, ever prepared, patted her bag. “I was worried about this, so I traded for two bags of soy milk before we left.” She had wanted real milk powder, but the shop was out; soy milk would have to do.

An Songyu breathed a sigh of relief. “Good thinking.”

Xu Bairan looked curiously at the unconscious woman behind them. “Captain, is that your rival, Shen Qingyu?”

At those words, the little black cat lounging on Xu Bairan’s shoulder opened its amber eyes. It took one look at the scene and said, in a voice that could wake the dead: “Captain, did you just… finish ‘subduing’ her in bed?”

The rest of the team’s gazes instantly turned suggestive, their eyes sparkling with mischief as they looked at Jiang Weiqing. On the way there, they had heard countless versions of the story, and the “rivals-to-lovers” plot was easily the most exciting.

Xu Bairan blinked innocently, tilting his head toward Lin Yunxia. “Sister Yunxia, what does ‘subduing in bed’ mean?”

Yunxia quickly covered the boy’s ears. “You’re too young for that!” An Songyu followed up by covering his eyes. “Not just for hearing; you shouldn’t see it either.”

Their synchronized antics made it look like Jiang Weiqing and Shen Qingyu really had done something. Jiang Weiqing’s face turned bright red. Not from shame, but from pure rage.

That is my rival! No matter how poor her taste, she would never look at Shen Qingyu!

Jiang Weiqing gritted her teeth, looking ominously at the black cat. “Lu Yan, you’re really asking for it today!”

Two rows of water spheres materialized by her side, shooting with unerring precision toward the cat. Lu Yan dodged and darted away, shouting back, “We’re all adults here, meow! Natural urges, meow!”

The rest of the team erupted into laughter, while Jiang Weiqing felt the heat rising all the way to the tips of her ears. The one-sided beatdown ended only after a series of miserable “meows” echoed through the cave.

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