I handed the little girl some snacks, then pulled out a bag of bread and offered it to the woman.

"Eat up..."

Under her stunned gaze, I calmly zipped my backpack shut and held out the bread.

"Thank you..." Her voice choked. She might have recalled something painful. Yet instead of eating, she tucked the bread away first. Her eyes then drifted to the man’s corpse nearby, and her eyes instantly reddened.

"Who was he?" I asked gently.

"My husband..." she replied automatically.

"I see... My condolences," I said politely.

Suddenly, something tugged my pants. Instinctively, I leaped back two steps, hand flying toward my gun—

Only to find the little girl blinking up at me innocently. I awkwardly lowered my arm.

"Ahem... What’s your name?"

"I’m Juan’er~" She tilted her head cutely, then glanced at her snacks before beaming up at me with gratitude. "Thank you, big sister..."

"Big... sis... ter."

*Little girl, you have no idea—but those three words just stabbed me through the heart!*

"Yep... big sister~" she drawled in her sweet, childish voice.

"I’d prefer..." *if you called me big brother.*

I swallowed the last part. It’d sound too weird.

"Uh... okay. Eat slowly," I forced a smile, jaw tight.

"Big sister... you’re so pretty~"

*Kid, if I didn’t know you meant it innocently, I’d have smacked you already!*

I clenched my fist, then remembered—she wasn’t wrong. And in her world, praising a "big sister’s" beauty probably earned rewards.

Awkwardly, I reached out. Under her hopeful gaze, I settled my hand on her head and gently ruffled her hair. She really was like a little kitten.

"Mm... Juan’er is such a good girl~"

*Lies. But I had to say it.*

"Hehe~" She giggled happily at the praise.

Just then, the woman approached. I dropped my hand naturally, but wariness prickled under my skin. Maybe it was my old shut-in habits? Or just Apocalypse survival instincts kicking in?

"Thank you..." she murmured softly, then glanced down sharply—likely spotting the pistol at my waist.

"No problem," I waved it off. After weighing my options while studying the mother-daughter pair, I ventured: "So... what will you do next?"

"Next?" She smoothly took the opening. "Actually... I have a request."

I already guessed her meaning, but hesitation held me back.

"Could you... take us out of this hospital?" She seemed to realize how much she was asking and rushed on: "I—I still have food! Enough for three or five days. It’s all yours if you get us out."

Seeing my pause, she gritted her teeth, yanking her daughter close. "If that’s impossible... please. Just take my daughter. Get her out!"

"Get her out..." I looked at the innocent little girl. She seemed to understand, biting her lip silently while staring at her toes.

"Just... just get her to the Armed Police camp! That’s all I ask."

"Armed Police camp?"

"Yes! Survivors are there. My husband’s colleagues too. She’ll get at least one meal a day there. Better than starving here..." Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.

She knelt, hugging her daughter as soft sobs escaped. "Juan’er, Mama won’t be with you anymore... Eat well. Don’t trouble the uncles too much. Don’t ask for extras. Just stay safe... Even if I starve here... it’ll be worth it."

Hearing this, I felt no sympathy—only heightened suspicion.

*She’s performing for me. Yes, she wants a chance for her daughter... but those last lines? Pure theater.*

My heart turned cold. My expression hardened.

Then the little girl wriggled free. Timidly, she crept to my side and tugged my coat sleeve.

"Big sister..." Her voice trembled with tears. "Please... take Mama too..."

*I usually hate brats. But this quiet, well-behaved kid? I liked her.*

I shot the mother a glance. She still wept, but a trace of affectation colored her sobs. I understood why she’d do it—but hated how she weaponized her daughter’s innocence and my own kindness.

Yet... looking at the child clinging to me and the corpse on the floor, the refusal died on my tongue. *Typical shut-in weakness. Even if I’m not one anymore.*

"Gather your things."

Resentment flared—I’d been played. My mood soured, my voice turning icy. But the woman acted like she hadn’t noticed. She sprang up, nodding eagerly before rushing into the sixth-floor ward. The little girl, however, kept clutching my sleeve like I might vanish.

Ignoring the kid, I calculated the cost. Clearly, I’d lost. Food was precious now, but dragging two liabilities through unknown dangers? If escape were easy, she wouldn’t offer such steep payment.

*She saw my gun. And this blood-crusted, notched fruit knife at my waist. That’s why she chose me.*

I pulled out the knife, examining its ruined edge. *Time to find a proper melee weapon. This one’s nearly dead. Hope it lasts a little longer.*

The jagged blade and warped spine screamed its limits. Reality was harsh—a fruit knife, no matter how sharp, was never meant for combat. It was for slicing apples.

My gaze shifted to the dead man. Scanning him, I spotted a Dagger at his waist. After a pause, I stepped forward to take it—

"Stop! What are you doing to my husband!"

The woman’s shriek froze my hand.

"Nothing..." I straightened calmly. "Since he was your husband, his belongings belong to you now."

Her eyes burned with panic and anger, waiting.

"Taking you two out of this hospital won’t be safe. You know that." Truthfully, I didn’t want dead weight. I hoped she’d back down.

"What do you want?" she asked stiffly.

"If we’re making a deal, I’m adding terms." I spoke slowly, watching her face. No reaction—just silent waiting.

"First: obey my orders. Anytime. If you die for disobeying..." I glanced at her and the child. "...it’s your fault."

"I’ll obey," she nodded quickly.

"Second... I want the food. And..." My eyes locked on the corpse. "...all his weapons."

She hesitated, then bit her lip. "Fine."

"Then I collect my payment first." I reached for the Dagger—

"Can..." she interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Can I... do it?" She sounded fearful of angering me. To her, I was her last lifeline.

Silently, I gestured for her to proceed and stepped back. From my pocket, I pulled out Changbai cigarettes, shook one loose, and lit it with a Zippo. A sharp *click-snick* echoed as the flame flared against my jeans.

*Whoosh.*

I took a deep drag—then noticed the little girl staring oddly. Not at me. At my cigarette.

"What’s wrong?"

Her reply made me choke on smoke.

"Mama says... girls shouldn’t smoke! And... and..." She frowned down at her shoes.

"And what?" I exhaled, smiling.

"Cigarettes are expensive!"

*Sweat dripped down my spine. Are kids this pragmatic now?*

"It’s fine. Big... sister can afford it." *Big brother* almost slipped out again.

"They’re *really* expensive! One pack buys a whole meal!" She scowled fiercely, as if I’d wasted treasure. Adorable, but I kept my face stern. In this world, seeming too kind was dangerous.

"Don’t worry... Sister can handle it."