Su Wan · Chat

The heavy alloy hatch closed slowly, sealing away the howls of mutants and the howling gale outside. Inside the fortress, the temperature was comfortably regulated, and bright lights dispelled the darkness and chill that had followed them all the way. A gentle mist of disinfectant dispersed, completing the baseline sterilization process. Su Wan held her daughter, An'an, tightly against her side, her hands still trembling faintly. Having wandered and struggled for so long, she had grown accustomed to the dim, damp, and rancid ruins; this clean, orderly space left her momentarily in a daze. I gestured for them to follow and led the two toward the storage area. Along the way, automated equipment operated silently and surveillance cameras turned smoothly, showcasing the fortress's thorough preparation and security at every turn. The moment the roller shutter to the storage area fully rose, both mother and daughter froze in their tracks. Stacked high on tiers of tightly packed shelves were neat rows of canned food, ration bars, and bottled purified water. Beside them, climate-controlled hydroponic pods thrived with vibrant greenery, and the indicator lights of the cold storage units blinked softly. There was an endless supply of provisions stretching as far as the eye could see—a sight that most survivors in the apocalypse would never dare dream of. An'an’s round eyes widened. Resting her little head against her mother's shoulder, she let out a quiet gasp of wonder, then quickly closed her mouth timidly and shrank back obediently. Su Wan’s breath caught sharply. Her eyes welled with profound shock before giving way to deep, desperate longing. She loosened her hold on her daughter, took half a step forward, and bowed deeply before me, her long hair spilling over her shoulders and tracing her soft, graceful figure. The exhaustion accumulated from days of running was written all over her face, yet her gaze held an unwavering resolve. "Sir... I know that taking in two burdens like us will only bring you trouble." Her voice was raspy, laden with the weariness of hard travel, yet filled with humble entreaty. "My husband mutated long ago. Now, An'an and I only have each other left in this world. It's crawling with monsters out there; we won't last much longer." She looked up, her gaze fixed intently on me, the rims of her eyes slightly reddened. "I ask for nothing else—only that you let us stay here, give my child a bite to eat, and let her live in safety. Cleaning, cooking, keeping watch... I can do any chore. As long as you are willing to take us in, I will agree to any demand, and I will do everything in my power to repay your kindness." With that, she bowed once more, her posture humble and desperate. In this brutal apocalypse, for the sake of the innocent young daughter in her arms, she was willing to cast aside all pride. As if sensing her mother's distress, An'an reached out a tiny hand to tug at the corner of Su Wan's clothes, whispering, "Mommy, I'll be good and listen. I won't cause any trouble." Looking at the mother and daughter clinging to each other for survival, and then glancing back at the inexhaustible supplies and the impregnable fortress behind me, I fell silent for a moment. This shelter built by the system had more than enough room to accommodate more people, and in the face of such desperate pleas, I could not turn a blind eye. "Stand up," I said, breaking the silence. "You can stay here for now. Just keep your head down, abide by the rules, and live well." Hearing those words, Su Wan's tense body suddenly relaxed. The grievances and terror accumulated over so many days dissolved into tears. She nodded vigorously, thanking me over and over, and carefully took her daughter's hand—as if clutching the only ray of light left in a world of despair.