What Should I Do If My Ex-Girlfriend's Pheromones Smell Too Good? - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Choice

After a fierce battle lasting only a few minutes, the group burst into the dormitory building with a decisiveness that showed they were racing against time. The damage to the building was much lighter than Shu Qiong had expected; it seemed to be one of the sturdiest structures on the base, with only the outer walls suffering from minor peeling and scorch marks.

On the south side of the dormitory, there was an anti-explosion emergency door, currently standing wide open. Once inside, Shu Qiong and the others immediately blocked the door, providing a defense that was better than nothing. They then scattered in small groups to thoroughly clear out the stray Zerg soldiers on the first floor.

There weren’t many Zerg inside. The ground was littered with obvious signs of combat and severed Zerg limbs, suggesting that survivors in the air-raid shelter likely came out periodically to clear the area and receive incoming companions.

The entrance to the shelter wasn’t hard to find. Once inside, Shu Qiong and her group discovered a significant number of survivors. She didn’t have time to observe the details; scanning the room, she spotted a familiar face and piloted Xinghai toward them before jumping out of the cockpit.

“Doctor, please, check Instructor Chu’s injuries immediately!”

She spoke at high speed. Beside her, Chang Xichun, who had arrived almost simultaneously, helped lift the unconscious and feverish Chu Yimeng out of Lianzhu’s cockpit. During the final sprint into the building, Chu Yimeng had been tucked into Lianzhu; because of this, Shu Qiong and Yan Xiangyu had spent the entire trip clearing the path for Chang Xichun, who was struggling to maneuver with the extra weight.

The Military University school doctor was startled by the horrific, blood-soaked state of her colleague. She hurried them to move gently, terrified they might bump her further. After a careful examination of the wounds, she looked up: “Massive blood loss, multiple fractures, and signs of infection. Luckily, we have the necessary medical equipment here. I’ll get a stretcher; you get her into the med-pod.”

Only then did Shu Qiong and the others finally relax enough to observe the emergency air-raid shelter. The walls were made of a thick metal capable of blocking most scanning methods, designed to effectively withstand earthquakes, hurricanes, and Zerg swarms or artillery fire.

In the corners, supplies were stacked neatly by category: weapons, mecha materials, food, water, medical resources, and several safe-like boxes of unknown contents—perhaps important data or secret weapons.

Shu Qiong was exhausted from the journey. Seeing the high-quality mecha materials didn’t even spark a thought; she didn’t even have the strength to patch her mecha. She slumped against a wall in the corner, unwilling to move a muscle. She had been up since 5:30 AM for the final assessment, and for the days prior, she had squeezed every second of rest to refine her teammates’ mechas. The constant tension had left her physically and mentally drained; having only eaten one cracker and a few sips of water since 7:00 AM, she was at her limit.

As her nerves relaxed, her eyelids grew heavy. Just as she drifted off, she felt something touch her and snapped her eyes open in a surge of over-alertness. It was Yan Xiangyu, tucking a blanket around her. “Sleep,” Yan said softly. Shu Qiong’s head tilted back, and she fell into a deep sleep instantly.

Yan Xiangyu smiled helplessly and sat down against the wall beside her. Eventually, she felt a heavy weight on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw Shu Qiong still dead to the world, her brow furrowed. Perhaps due to prolonged muscle tension, Shu Qiong’s leg twitched unconsciously, kicking Yan Xiangyu’s shin.

Yan Xiangyu looked down at the half-footprint of greyish dust left on her trousers and was reminded of the scene when school first started. Back then, getting her clothes dirty would have felt different; now, there was no awkwardness or hesitation. Even sitting together in silence, she felt that life was good. Lost in thought, Yan Xiangyu eventually drifted into a daze and fell asleep as well.

By the time they woke up, it was evening. Shu Qiong felt her head throbbing; she wanted ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, not this stop-and-start rest. But she had to wake up; her stomach was in revolt, a hollow burning sensation searing her abdomen.

Yan Xiangyu looked much more refreshed. She noticed Shu Qiong’s eyes opening and gave a knowing smile. She handed Shu Qiong a tube of nutrient solution, her tone touched with a bit of gallows humor: “I specifically picked the pineapple flavor for you.” The only food in the shelter was cases of nutrient solution—filling and shelf-stable.

Shu Qiong accepted it with glazed eyes. After a sip, the burning in her stomach subsided, and her brain began to function again. “Having food at all is good,” she said, dangling the tube from her mouth. “At least we get to choose the flavor.”

As they ate, the school doctor floated past them with a hollow, spectral gait. They asked in unison: “How’s the situation?”

The doctor yawned. “Another group of instructors brought back some students. Many wounded; two were too far gone to save. Outside is the same—we have to go out every half hour to clear the Zerg from the dormitory area to help any survivors trying to find us.” She sighed deeply. “No idea when reinforcements will arrive.” Then, she drifted away like a ghost.

Shu Qiong and Yan Xiangyu exchanged a look, both seeing the same pessimism. After a while, they found a few instructors preparing to go out for another clearing run.

The instructor who spoke first was one of the few permanent garrison members: “The biggest problem is the signal blackout. We can’t reach the military, and we can’t even establish an effective communication network with other survivors on the planet.”

“Is there a way to fix it?” Shu Qiong asked.

The instructor shook her head helplessly. “The signal station was the first thing destroyed when the swarm arrived. We were caught off guard and never had the chance to activate the backup source.”

“How do we turn it on?”

The instructor glanced at her. “You just need to input the code at the station. But don’t think it’s easy. The station is in the most densely packed Zerg area. Unless we throw every surviving fighter into it, the chances are slim.”

Clearly, gambling the fate of every survivor on such a risky move was unwise; they couldn’t afford a total wipeout. The most rational choice was to wait for reinforcements and protect the precious data in the shelter. If they had to sacrifice their lives, it would be at the final, critical moment.

Suddenly, another instructor spoke up: “Actually, there is a backup underground tunnel. It doesn’t lead directly to the station, but it bypasses a long stretch of the surface route.”

Her colleague snapped, “Old Chen! Even with a tunnel, it’s a suicide mission. Don’t bring it up!”

Old Chen, in his forties, had served on Base Star for over a decade. He had seen combat in his youth but moved to logistics as his physical performance declined. He had stayed behind when the others left. He gave Shu Qiong a bitter smile and fell silent.

When it came to the base’s layout, Shu Qiong and the others were no match for these senior instructors. Jin Yan’s eyes lit up, and she asked about the tunnel. It sounded like a viable path. The first instructor saw Jin Yan’s expression and felt a pang of nostalgia, seeing her younger self—a “newborn calf” unafraid of tigers, full of restless passion.

She advised sternly, “That tunnel is an abandoned, half-finished sewer. It’s hidden, yes, but once you reach the surface, you’ll be staring at the heart of the swarm. How do you expect to fight your way to the top of the signal station?”

Chang Xichun muttered, “I get the logic. But it’s been half a day and there’s no sign of reinforcements. Waiting to die is agony; I’d rather do something to improve our situation.”

Yan Xiangyu, who had been quiet, watched Shu Qiong’s expression before finally saying, “We can follow the sewer to assess the situation. If it’s truly hopeless, we turn back.”

Shu Qiong nodded immediately.

The instructors saw no other way. They let Old Chen stay behind to guide the young people. The other instructors left to clear the dormitory area. Old Chen led Shu Qiong and the volunteers toward a different section. They equipped themselves with ammo and boarded the mechas Shu Qiong had recently repaired.

The abandoned sewer was winding, but since it had never been used, there was no waste—just a lot of dust. As Shu Qiong walked, she realized with surprise that the sewer was exceptionally wide, enough for two mechas to walk side-by-side. It looked suspiciously like the mountain corridor they found in the arena. She suspected that from its inception, this “sewer” was intended to be a secret passage for times of crisis.

After walking for about two kilometers, they saw a sliver of light from the exit. As Old Chen described, it was an unfinished project; the exit was covered only by a heavy grate of rebar—no proper stairs or manhole cover.

This height was nothing for a mecha. They took turns peeking through the gaps in the grate. Outside, the swarm was far denser than in the dormitory area, with various castes seemingly performing specific roles. They even saw rare species not mentioned in textbooks; some had silhouettes that looked disturbingly human, nearly triggering the “uncanny valley” effect.

Seeing the shifting expressions of the youth, Old Chen warned solemnly, “The goal is to activate the backup signal. Do not think about attacking the Hive core. Do you understand? That is beyond you and extremely dangerous!”

They nodded in agreement and continued observing. From their angle, they could only see a corner of the signal station—a tall, spire-like tower. Zooming in with their mecha sensors, they could see clear signs of destruction at the top.

Shu Qiong confirmed with Old Chen: “Instructor, it’s the top floor, right?”

Old Chen was silent for a few seconds before saying, “Yes. Are you sure you want to go?”

Shu Qiong had already begun testing the new equipment on Xinghai. She had used the high-grade materials from the shelter, and Xinghai was now significantly upgraded, far exceeding its performance during training.

“I’ll go alone this time,” she told her teammates. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. If the signal isn’t restored in an hour, then you come.” In an operation like this, a crowd wasn’t necessarily an advantage.

Yan Xiangyu frowned. “I’m going with you.”

The two shared a silent, stubborn look. Shu Qiong was the first to yield. “Fine. We go together.”