What?! I Became the Zombie Beauty in the Villain’s Arms

Chapter 250: I’m Serious

Pei Xiqing was genuinely surprised. You… know about this? she projected through the neural reader.

Qiu Chao straightened up in his chair. “I know. But only Brother Duan and I are aware of this phenomenon.”

How did you find out? she asked.

“Brother Duan was the first to flag the incident,” Qiu Chao explained, his tone grim. “Two days ago, an ability user within Franlun was promptly injected with the serum and underwent a comprehensive medical checkup. The results showed absolutely no anomalies. Yet, he died suddenly overnight. I was at the scene. The death was horrific—his internal organs had completely ruptured, leaving the entire room coated in blood and tissue. I knew immediately that something was fundamentally wrong and called Brother Duan over.”

Subsequent autopsies failed to reveal anything unusual in the mutant’s remains. In the end, it was Duan Xiaolin who pinpointed the true cause.

“The cause of death was a dormant strain of the zombie virus hidden deep within that ability user’s body.”

Almost at the exact same moment, Pei Xiqing’s thoughts flashed across the screen.

Qiu Chao raised his eyebrows, looking up at her sharply.

“How exactly did you know about this?” This time, he was entirely on edge. Her words sent a sudden, icy chill down his spine.

What if I told you I have a feeling… Pei Xiqing typed out, that I might be in the exact same situation as that ability user?

Qiu Chao’s eyes blew wide, his surgical mask slipping slightly as his jaw dropped. “What? This is absolutely not something to joke about!”

Pei Xiqing couldn’t help but let out a weak cough. After enduring the discomfort for a few seconds, she replied, I’m serious.

Qiu Chao bolted upright from his chair. “No… wait a minute. Tell me first, how on earth did you know about this?”

He and Brother Duan were the only two people in existence who knew the true cause of that operative’s death. He alone had handled all the research. The data, the files, the records—absolutely no third party had access to them.

Pei Xiqing blinked slowly. I… have seen this specific condition before.

Qiu Chao, rarely one to lose his clinical composure, grew visibly agitated. He began pacing relentlessly in front of her bed, hands clasped behind his back, looking like a restless, masked phantom.

“When did you encounter this? Out in the wilderness? Brother Duan briefed me on everything you two experienced out there. You didn’t encounter any anomalous zombies.” He muttered to himself, trying to piece it together. “That’s not right. Maybe he didn’t notice. That incident happened just two days ago. The operative who died was incredibly low-profile. If he hadn’t dropped dead so violently, his true condition would have never been exposed. He was entirely indistinguishable from a normal human. Furthermore, he was the very first person to die from the zombie virus after successfully taking the serum.”

He stopped pacing. “Wait a minute, let me review the logs… There was absolutely nothing wrong with him before he died. He executed field missions flawlessly for five or six months post-injection. His squadmates didn’t report a single anomaly. The only minor discrepancy was that he exhibited a mild photophobia—a fear of light—for a brief period, but it wasn’t severe and vanished almost immediately.”

Acting on that thought, Qiu Chao immediately leaned over and punched a sequence of buttons on the side of her hospital bed.

Several high-intensity diagnostic lasers swept down from the canopy.

“Lie back,” he instructed. “I want to run a test.”

Suddenly, a blindingly bright light was angled directly into Pei Xiqing’s face. She flinched, instinctively turning her head to dodge the glare.

But Qiu Chao was relentless, systematically running her through a battery of intensive sensory and biological tests. He knew this hidden strain couldn’t be detected through standard medical scans. So, he took the opposite approach. Using a specialized rig, he forcefully drew out samples of every active zombie viral strain currently occupying Pei Xiqing’s system. After meticulously isolating and confirming them one by one, he actively suppressed the samples using the raw energy of a crystal core.

Through the neural link, Pei Xiqing could vividly feel the rolling waves of excitement and profound relief radiating from the doctor.

After verifying the results multiple times, Qiu Chao finally slumped back into his chair, letting out a massive breath. “You do not share that operative’s pathology. You are not going to die suddenly like he did. You absolutely do not harbor that specific dormant strain in your body.”

Really? Pei Xiqing projected, feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“Trust me on this,” he said firmly.

I trust you.

Pei Xiqing was genuinely relieved. She wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone. Carrying that strain was like harboring a biological time bomb, waiting to violently detonate without a second’s notice.

“Long Yan mentioned that you actively refuse to be converted into a normal human?” Qiu Chao finally calmed his racing heart.

Yes.

“Is Brother Duan aware of your decision?”

He will choose to respect my wishes.

“Well,” Qiu Chao murmured, standing up from his chair. “It’s probably for the best that you didn’t harbor any grand illusions or false hopes regarding this procedure. Perhaps this way, you won’t suffer a crushing disappointment in the end.”

Thank you, Brother Qiu Chao. You have done everything within your power. Anything beyond this is simply forcing the impossible.

“I will absolutely guarantee your survival,” he promised, his tone turning solemn. “As for exactly how you will live, it seems you have already made your choice.”

Thank you.

Shortly after Qiu Chao exited the room, a shadow seemed to flicker past the window.

Startled, Pei Xiqing’s eyelashes fluttered, and her hand slipped, accidentally knocking over the water cup resting on the bedside table.

The sharp clatter of plastic hitting the floor prompted the person standing guard outside to immediately push the door open. Ling Lang stepped into view.

Clad in his pristine military uniform, he looked exceptionally tall, majestic, and undeniably handsome. His crisp military cap pressed down on his stark white hair, though it did little to conceal his inherently unruly and defiant temperament.

Pei Xiqing looked up as he strode over to the bed. Without uttering a single word, he smoothly picked up the fallen cup and wiped away the spilled water. He didn’t speak, but his intense, silent gaze clearly instructed her to lie back and rest.

Pei Xiqing offered a small nod.

He lingered for a moment, looking as though he wanted to say something more, but the half-closed bedroom door was suddenly shoved open again.

It was his personal adjutant. The officer rushed into the room, entirely unable to suppress the naked panic on his face upon seeing Pei Xiqing. He leaned in and urgently whispered a rapid report into Ling Lang’s ear.

Ling Lang’s expression darkened instantly. Having only enough time to toss the wet paper towels into the trash bin, he shot Pei Xiqing one final, unreadable glance before pivoting on his heel and storming out of the room.

Pei Xiqing sat up against the headboard, watching his retreating figure with deep bewilderment.

Brother Duan was scheduled to return very soon—within the next hour or two. What could have possibly triggered such a drastic reaction at this critical juncture?

A few moments later, Long Yan hurried into the room. She was carrying a massive, heavy windbreaker, which she immediately draped over Pei Xiqing’s shoulders, wrapping her tightly.

Pei Xiqing looked at her in confusion.

Long Yan’s face was tense as she exaggerated her lip movements to mouth a silent, urgent warning: The parasite situation outside has escalated to a critical level. I need to evacuate you immediately.

Chapter 251: The World Spins

Pei Xiqing couldn’t ask any more questions for the time being. She simply nodded and slipped into the heavy coat Long Yan had brought for her.

Once she was bundled up, she followed Long Yan out of the room.

The sky beyond the corridor windows had turned a violent crimson in the blink of an eye. The air was thick with the metallic stench of war and blood, as if the very clouds had been stained red by the slaughter outside.

Her vision was failing, leaving her in a blurry haze where she could only vaguely distinguish the encroaching darkness and the overwhelming scent of death. Yet, even standing there with her physical senses rapidly deteriorating, she could still feel the sheer, ground-shaking intensity of the battlefield.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Long Yan quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her down the corridor and rushing her down the stairs.

A black car was already idling downstairs.

Long Yan yanked the door open, ushered her inside, and exaggerated her lip movements so Pei Xiqing could read them: This is the central headquarters. There’s a secret evacuation passage. We don’t need to scramble in a panic like we did back at Base Three. This car will take you directly to the safe haven inside the undersea tunnel. Just wait there peacefully. Keep your mind calm and don’t let your thoughts spiral. The situation out here shouldn’t last long. We’ll have it handled soon.

This place truly lived up to its title as the supreme headquarters. In the event of a zombie siege or any catastrophic natural or man-made disaster, the facility boasted countless emergency protocols. Moreover, the structural integrity of the underwater tunnel made it the absolute safest shelter in the apocalypse. Not a single zombie had ever managed to breach its mysteriously constructed walls.

What about you? Pei Xiqing asked, communicating through hurried gestures.

Long Yan closed the car door and pointed toward the frontline through the glass. I still need to head to the vanguard to assess the situation. You go to the tunnel shelter first. Your body needs rest, and your health is the absolute top priority right now. Don’t waste your energy worrying about the rest. With Ling Lang and me holding the line, everything will be fine.

Pei Xiqing opened her mouth to argue, but Long Yan stepped back and waved at the driver. “Drive!”

The car doors locked, and the driver immediately gunned the engine at Long Yan’s command.

The vehicle sped toward the rear sectors of the headquarters, gradually putting distance between them and the smoke-choked battlefield. The chaotic noise of the fighting slowly faded into the background.

With her perception still incredibly weak, Pei Xiqing could only faintly sense the raw panic and despair radiating from the civilians fleeing wildly along the roadside.

Sitting in the back seat, Pei Xiqing suddenly clutched her chest and broke into a violent coughing fit.

Her physical condition was deteriorating rapidly; she was nowhere near as resilient as before. The zombie virus was spiraling further and further out of control. Even she wasn’t certain if she could truly hold on until the end.

Hearing her cough, the driver slammed his foot on the gas, racing toward the underwater refuge tunnel at maximum speed.

When the car finally stopped, Pei Xiqing leaned heavily against the door for support. The exact moment her toes touched the pavement, a wave of profound, surreal dizziness washed over her. The ground beneath her feet felt soft and hollow, as if she were stepping on empty air.

She raised her head and was immediately met with a pair of extremely cold eyes staring out from behind a black mask.

It was the same Franlun operative she had seen in her room just a few hours ago.

When Long Yan had introduced him earlier… if she remembered correctly, the man’s name was Sanshe. A very unique, unassuming callsign, yet the operatives of Franlun were anything but simple characters.

He was standing guard at the entrance to the “Refuge” tunnel, systematically screening the desperate crowds attempting to sneak inside through various loopholes. The security checkpoints were absolute; they strictly controlled the identities and the exact headcount of everyone permitted entry.

A massive crowd of people had been blocked outside the reinforced gates. A quick glance revealed that the number of people actually authorized to enter the tunnel was staggeringly small—perhaps only a tenth of the total population gathered there.

Among those barred from entry were men, women, the elderly, children, the injured, and the healthy… virtually every demographic of the base.

Every single pair of eyes locked onto the underwater tunnel with extreme, burning obsession and desperate desire. Even if they couldn’t cross the threshold, they refused to leave, standing outside and staring as if their burning gazes could pierce straight through the blast doors to the sanctuary below. They were waiting—waiting for the inevitable moment when the crowd’s agitation boiled over into a riot, hoping to use the ensuing chaos to slip inside.

Pei Xiqing felt a flicker of confusion.

The very name of the shelter implied it was designed to house the population during apocalyptic disasters and uncontrollable breaches. Why were the vast majority of the survivors being denied entry at such a critical juncture? Only a select few possessing specific credentials were being allowed through, and their numbers were pitifully small.

Sanshe spotted her and immediately closed the distance between them with a few long strides.

I received the notification, he projected onto a holographic light screen, knowing she couldn’t hear him speak.

A secure room has been reserved for you inside. Go in and rest.

If you require anything, simply inform me, and I will execute your requests.

All the medical equipment inside perfectly mirrors your previous quarters. Qiu Chao is already down there and has prepared everything necessary.

Pei Xiqing gave a weak nod.

The text scrolling across the light screen was purely utilitarian and completely devoid of warmth. Just reading the subtitles, one might easily feel as though they were conversing with a programmed machine.

She was quickly processed and granted clearance to enter the tunnel.

Once she was helped inside, the atmosphere shifted drastically. She completely lost her sense of direction. A heavy, oppressive illusion weighed on her mind, accompanied by a tightness in her chest and a faint, lingering sensation of suffocation.

These abnormal sensations—fluctuating in and out of awareness—pressed heavily on the minds of everyone who entered the structure. While not inherently fatal, they could be agonizing for anyone with highly sensitive perception. Staying in this environment for an extended period could easily breed intense irritability as the atmospheric pressure bore down on the nervous system.

Her pupils had completely lost the ability to process color, leaving her unable to perceive the architectural details or the hues of the tunnel’s interior. As she was guided down the corridor, she briefly crossed paths with several elites who had already secured entry.

They initially looked at her with curiosity, but the moment they spotted the terrifying Franlun operative shadowing her steps, they instantly fell dead silent, not daring to utter a single word.

Pei Xiqing was escorted into a sealed, square room.

The medical equipment inside did indeed closely mirror the setup in her previous bedroom. The only stark difference was the complete absence of windows; the room featured nothing but a single, reinforced skylight embedded in the ceiling overhead. And it clearly wasn’t designed to be opened easily.

Qiu Chao was already standing beside the bed, a prepared syringe in his hand. He gestured for her to come over and lie down.

Pei Xiqing collapsed onto the mattress, her mind already spinning violently out of control.

She didn’t even know what chemical compound he injected into her bloodstream. She only felt her remaining slivers of consciousness completely give way. She slipped into a deep, heavy sleep without even realizing it.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the world was still spinning. But as Pei Xiqing subconsciously twitched her fingers, she realized with a start that she could actually feel a faint, lingering sensation returning to her skin.

Chapter 252: Earth-Shaking Feeling

She could actually feel the temperature around her again, and the faint, sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to her quilt finally registered in her senses.

Opening her eyes, the ceiling above was still drained of color, but she could acutely feel the damp chill in the room and the subtle, bitter tang of seawater filtering through the air vents.

Pei Xiqing sat up slowly, testing the mobility of her arm. Aside from a few fresh needle punctures dotting her skin, there were no alarming abnormalities.

She had absolutely no idea what chemical compound Qiu Chao had injected into her bloodstream, but after what felt like a deep, restorative sleep, her physical baseline felt remarkably stable.

After sitting for a moment to ensure the vertigo had passed, Pei Xiqing swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, slipped into her shoes, and began pacing the room at a casual rhythm.

The door wasn’t locked—they clearly had zero intention of confining her—so Pei Xiqing twisted the handle and pulled it open.

Shadow was standing guard directly outside in the corridor. The gaze he leveled at her through the visor of his mask carried a distinct, unspoken relief.

Pei Xiqing instantly recognized the operative behind the gear.

“Brother Shadow… cough, cough…”

She spoke on pure instinct, instantly startling herself. Her vocal cords produced a rough, raspy croak, and she stood frozen, genuinely stunned to hear her own voice again after the absolute silence of her collapse.

Shadow snapped to attention, his posture straightening. “You’re awake.”

Pei Xiqing hadn’t expected to regain her ability to vocalize. “How long was I asleep?”

“Two full days.”

“Ah?”

To her, it felt as though she had merely taken a brief afternoon nap. How had two entire days evaporated?

The timeline was collapsing far too rapidly. However, considering her physical metrics had stabilized so significantly, dedicating two or three days to pure recovery was a justifiable trade-off. The suffocating, paralyzing dread that had gripped her chest had finally begun to ease.

Pei Xiqing stepped out into the corridor.

Her pupils still couldn’t accurately process the color spectrum, but her overall cognitive state had improved exponentially.

The corridor outside her designated room was extremely narrow, spanning roughly a meter in width, and the further she looked down the hall, the more hopelessly congested it became.

The tunnel was absolutely packed shoulder-to-shoulder with desperate refugees.

It reminded her vividly of an overnight train ride she had endured back in college. The conditions then had been miserable; it was the peak of the back-to-school rush, and securing a reserved seat was a mathematical impossibility. She had been forced to cram into the narrow aisle of the carriage, wedged tightly among a dense crowd of passengers who had only managed to buy standing tickets.

Initially, she had been terrified of dozing off during the transit, paranoid about pickpockets or individuals harboring malicious intent. Yet, she hadn’t expected the profound solidarity of the carriage. There were countless others stuck standing just like her, all huddled together in the stifling heat. A group of uncles dressed in worn construction gear and a few middle-aged aunts from the countryside had taken her under their wing, fiercely protecting her space and even sharing their instant noodles with her.

She had stood for the entire night in that sweltering, foul-smelling carriage. She was physically exhausted by dawn, but she had genuinely felt the pure, unvarnished kindness that existed among ordinary, simple people.

Looking back on it now, it was actually a rather beautiful memory.

Her wandering thoughts were violently shattered by a sudden, explosive curse echoing down the tunnel.

“Damn it! Are you completely blind? How dare you shove your weight into my space? Do you possess a death wish?! Back the hell up!”

The exact second the roar subsided, a frail, painfully thin girl was violently shoved to the ground by a massive, heavily built man with a thick neck and flushed ears.

The underwater tunnel functioned much like a hermetically sealed train carriage, with the crushing weight of the ocean surging directly overhead. The recycled air was already thick with the fishy, brine-soaked stench of seawater, heavily compounded by the foul odor of sweat, panic, and dried blood emanating from the densely packed survivors.

The physical space was inherently claustrophobic, and the sudden outbreak of violence instantly triggered a wave of terror among the refugees. Most of the civilians caught in the immediate vicinity didn’t dare utter a single syllable; they frantically huddled into the corners, pressing their backs flat against the reinforced bulkheads to avoid drawing the aggressive man’s attention.

Before the brute could advance, the thin girl was smoothly pulled back to her feet.

Pei Xiqing had stepped forward, grabbing the girl’s bony wrist to haul her upright. Spotting a fresh, bleeding scrape across the girl’s cheek, she retrieved a clean handkerchief from her pocket and gently dabbed the blood away. “Brother Shadow, do you have any medical supplies on you?”

Shadow silently produced a small bottle of antiseptic spray from his tactical vest.

Pei Xiqing handed it to the trembling girl. “Evacuate to a less congested sector further down the line. Do not remain anchored in this grid.”

This specific section of the tunnel was dominated by large, heavily built men. For a frail girl to linger here, even if she wasn’t actively targeted right now, it was mathematically inevitable that she would eventually become collateral damage.

The little girl accepted the cold bottle, her hands shaking. She tentatively sniffed the nozzle, catching the faint, lingering scent of Pei Xiqing’s clean perfume clinging to the plastic. She offered a pure, innocent smile and gave a deep nod of gratitude.

Before she could speak, a frantic woman shoved her way through the crowd from the opposite side, aggressively yanking the girl by the arm. “Oh my God! Why did you wander off into this sector alone? You nearly scared your mother to death!”

Once the girl was dragged away to safety, the collective gaze of the surrounding refugees slowly, cautiously pivoted to lock onto Pei Xiqing.

“Where exactly did this little girl crawl out from? In a catastrophic lockdown like this, with parasites and the undead literally swarming right above our heads, she actually possesses the bandwidth to play the savior?” one man muttered under his breath.

“Just drop it, brother. Do not engage her,” another whispered frantically. “That masked enforcer shadowing her steps… he does not project the baseline of a regular guard.”

“That armor… he looks exactly like an operative from Franlun… hiss…”

Several sharp, synchronized intakes of breath echoed through the claustrophobic space as the realization hit. The massive brute who had shoved the girl instantly lowered his eyes, his aggression evaporating into terror. He didn’t dare look in Pei Xiqing’s direction again.

Ignoring the whispers, Pei Xiqing navigated through the dense crowd, eventually securing a relatively quiet pocket of space near the reinforced glass paneling. Staring out into the dark, flowing seawater and the distorted shadows of marine life swimming past the tunnel walls, she lowered her voice. “Brother Shadow, what is Brother Duan’s current coordinate?”

“Brother Duan is currently deployed on the surface with the core Franlun vanguard,” Shadow reported quietly. “There is also a mandatory strategic summit at the supreme headquarters that requires his direct presence.”

“Did he…”

“Brother Duan did not initiate the breach.”

“And the status of the crystal cores…?”

“You do not need to factor that into your anxiety,” Shadow reassured her. “Brother Duan successfully extracted the remaining missing cores from the black market syndicates. He returned to the perimeter two days ago and formally transferred the entire cache into Qiu Chao’s custody. However, the precise clinical integration and the ultimate treatment methodology still require further calibration on their end.”

Pei Xiqing felt a sharp flicker of confusion.

He had already secured the entire cache… so what exact variables were they still calibrating?

She had naturally assumed her sudden physical recovery was a direct result of Qiu Chao actively integrating the crystal cores into her system while she slept. But if the cache was still sitting on a laboratory table, and her baseline had stabilized without their intervention… did that constitute a positive metric?

She desperately wanted to drill down into the specifics to clarify the situation. However, whenever she pressed Shadow with highly technical questions regarding her biology, the operative merely shook his head in helpless silence. He genuinely lacked the medical clearance to understand what Qiu Chao was doing.

Pei Xiqing leaned her shoulder against the cold tunnel wall, her gaze drifting back to the dense mass of refugees constantly shoving past each other in the corridor.

“When exactly did this civilian population breach the tunnel?” she asked.

Before she had slipped into her coma, she distinctly remembered Operative Three maintaining an absolute lockdown at the entrance, brutally barricading the vast majority of the survivors outside. The original logistical parameters simply did not authorize a civilian capacity of this scale.

“They all flooded the gates seeking absolute sanctuary,” Shadow explained. “Initially, the high command strictly throttled the entry numbers due to the severe risk of a structural collapse under the ocean’s pressure. But after Major General Ling Lang deployed his engineering battalions to heavily reinforce the foundational support struts of the tunnel, the directive was updated to permit the majority of the civilian population to enter.”

The underwater tunnel spanned over a thousand meters in length. It originated from the subterranean sub-levels of the central headquarters and extended far out into the deep-sea trenches. The deeper the descent, the more terrifying the external atmospheric pressure became. Yet, the military was ruthlessly packing as many human bodies into every available square meter of space as physically possible.

It was only within this specific, upper-tier sector that Operative Three had maintained a strict quarantine protocol, ensuring that the VIPs housed here retained adequate oxygen and physical maneuverability.

Pei Xiqing pressed a hand against her chest. After standing for an extended period, a faint, suffocating breathlessness began to constrict her lungs. The psychological terror, the claustrophobic impact, and the sheer, crushing oppression of the deep sea looming right outside the glass remained a profoundly terrifying reality.

She forced herself to look away from the dark water.

Just as she pivoted, intending to ask Shadow about the other tactical shifts that had occurred during her two-day blackout, she spotted a chaotic disturbance rippling through the crowd a short distance away.

Ma Mengjia was desperately fighting her way through the dense crush of bodies, shoving toward Pei Xiqing’s coordinate. She was entirely surrounded by large, aggressive men, and the sheer friction of the crowd had left her clothing torn and her hair a wild, tangled mess. God only knew how many times she had been callously groped or shoved in the chaos. Spitting a stream of furious curses at the men around her, she finally burst through the frontline and grabbed Pei Xiqing’s arm in absolute shock.

“Pei Xiqing! You’re actually sequestered down here too?!”

As she closed the distance, a shockingly pungent, acidic odor radiated from her clothes.

Looking down, Pei Xiqing noticed that Ma Mengjia’s garments and trousers were heavily stained with patches of an unidentifiable, foul-smelling liquid. The grime even coated the ends of her tangled hair.

Pei Xiqing’s sensory baseline was usually incredibly resilient, but the sudden assault of that rancid, biological stench hit her system like a physical blow. Instinctively clutching the metal wall of the tunnel for support, her stomach violently contracted, and she began to dry heave.

A few mouthfuls of bitter, acidic fluid surged up her throat uncontrollably. For the first time in her apocalyptic existence, she felt genuinely, violently nauseous.

Ma Mengjia immediately clamped a hand over her own mouth, her eyes blowing wide as she stared at the retching woman. “Hey! Don’t tell me… are you pregnant too?!”

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