What?! I Became the Zombie Beauty in the Villain’s Arms – CH37

Chapter 37: Angry

“That is simply the reality of the board. An asset of your caliber is hardly lacking in female companions,” Pei Xiqing murmured, her voice steady despite the suffocating pressure radiating from him. By all logical metrics, she should have run from the sheer intensity of his gaze, but she didn’t. She simply held his eyes, laying out her tactical conclusions with chilling calm. “Perhaps both of us merely succumbed to a transient, chemical curiosity. But once we breach the primary gates of the base, the illusion dissolves. I am an active zombie, Representative. There is mathematically zero probability of a monster truly integrating with human survivors.”

She took a slow, deliberate breath. “I refuse to watch you get ensnared in a web of bureaucratic calculations or political compromises because of my anomaly, ultimately forcing your hand to execute me to protect your standing. Rather than waiting for the parameters to hit critical failure, it is infinitely more efficient if I sever my connection to the convoy now.”

Deep down, she understood that her timeline could never run parallel to Duan Xiaolin’s for long. The external variables of the wasteland, the volatility of her own cellular structure, and her cognitive detachment from human society made separation inevitable.

Whether it was a flawed choice or not, it was basic biological nature for a weaker asset to seek temporary shelter during a crisis. She saw absolutely nothing wrong with her previous compliance; it was far more foolish to remain entangled in a dead asset line out of sentimentality.

The post-apocalyptic world was a theater of unvarnished cruelty, segregated into brutal hierarchical structures. And the administrative regime of Franlun was the absolute apex of that tyranny.

Although she had never formally breached the syndicate’s strongholds, she could easily trace the cold, structural ruthless style of the novel’s ultimate villain organization mirrored perfectly within Duan Xiaolin. The operatives operating under his administrative code moved like unfathomable, stone-cold shadows—making the true depth of his calculations entirely impossible to decipher.

If an entity of his caliber returned to the absolute center of global power like the base command or Franlun’s High Council, his primary focus would inevitably shift toward immediate, high-yield tactical benefits. When that calculation ran, she would have absolutely no cards left to play.

The novel had detailed the internal political warfare between the human survival strongholds more than once; the machinations of the human scum were infinitely more terrifying than the mindless slavering of the hordes outside the walls. The protagonist’s squad constantly found themselves caught in those bureaucratic gears, forced to aggressively dismantle corrupt factions just to preserve their basic human rights.

Pei Xiqing had navigated the wasteland long enough to adapt. At the beginning of her transmigration, the sheer psychological horror had nearly shattered her mind, but she had gradually conditioned her consciousness to endure. Thanks to her viral physiology, she could look at visceral, blood-slicked battlefields and disgusting mutations with absolute, unblinking detachment.

Yet, the prospect of entering a tightly controlled, hyper-paranoid human stronghold left her feeling profoundly disoriented and exposed.

Pei Xiqing lowered her thick lashes, cutting off the eye contact.

The ambient temperature in the settlement seemed to plummet to absolute zero in a single millisecond.

Fortunately, the remaining Vanguard operatives were entirely absorbed in securing the logistics crates and prepping the wounded for immediate transit. Assuming the two of them were merely running through a standard operational debriefing, no one paid their coordinates any attention.

The frantic pounding of her own pulse grew deafening in her ears. She forced a deep breath into her lungs, steeling her nervous system to face the expected lash of his administrative questioning or an explosion of pure rage. But after a heavy, agonizing silence, the man simply let out a low, dangerous chuckle.

Pei Xiqing’s head snapped up in genuine surprise. “What… what exactly do you find amusing?”

Behind his gold-rimmed lenses, Duan Xiaolin’s eyes narrowed into deep, calculating slits. His gaze drifted downward, locking onto the small expanse of pale skin exposed beneath the collar of her heavy windbreaker—smooth, pristine, and resembling a flawless piece of white jade carved by a master craftsman. Her structural beauty was seared directly into her bones, rendering her physical skin impossibly delicate and fragile under the floodlights.

“Nothing,” he murmured, his voice a smooth, low purr. He raised his right hand, his long fingers clamping firmly around her jawline, tilting her face upward with smooth, irresistible leverage. “If your mind was truly plagued by these trivial calculations, you should have rejected my parameters back in the ruins. Have you entirely erased the transcripts of what you promised me in that dark room?”

The man’s slender, calloused fingertips slid slowly through the dark strands of her hair, tracing the curve of her skull before anchoring firmly at the nape of her neck. He applied a precise, calibrated pressure—not enough to fracture the bone, but heavy enough to serve as an absolute physical lock. Leaning down until his breath brushed her cheek, he spoke in a low, suffocating whisper. “There is zero exit strategy on this board. You are locked in.”

“But the base’s biometric scanners—”

Duan Xiaolin ruthlessly severed her counter-argument, his tone flat. “Do you truly calculate that the base’s internal grid represents a threat to your safety?”

“No, that isn’t the metric I’m analyzing…” She stared into his unblinking eyes, a sudden, primal suffocation seizing her throat. His gaze was terrifyingly empty—entirely devoid of human empathy. Beneath the icy surface, a flash of tightly suppressed, lethal intent vibrated clearly, saturated with pure aggression and psychological terror.

A chilling intuition hit her brain: if she dared to nod and confirm she despised the base, this man would execute an action so profoundly outrageous it would fracture the high command’s entire infrastructure.

To his calculations, the central base command was nothing more than an insignificant hill of ants.

Pei Xiqing instinctively tried to take a rapid step backward to break his leverage, but he pressed forward seamlessly, his massive build forcing her down the dark corridor toward the concrete room behind them. The heavy reinforced door swung shut, clicking into the frame and entirely obliterating the morning light from the outside world. He leaned over her, his voice a glacial rasp in the dark. “Do not waste your focus worrying about the administrative situation at the gates. I have already issued my absolute promise to protect your cells, so I advise you to trust the calculation.”

Pei Xiqing’s jaw tightened as the panic subsided, her internal skepticism flaring.

She was essentially playing the role of a defector on his board.

Duan Xiaolin had indeed mapped out that verbal guarantee back along the trail.

But how long could a powerful man’s transient promise realistically sustain an infected asset in a fascist military regime?

Pei Xiqing had unlocked her own latent physical anomalies; she was rapidly developing the capacity to defend her own timeline. She no longer required the patronizing protection of a military bureaucrat.

She raised her chin, forcing her voice to remain perfectly level. “I am officially rescinding my compliance. I broke the agreement. As far as my ledger is concerned, you have fully liquidated your operational debt to me. From this exact timestamp forward—”

Duan Xiaolin’s fingers instantly clamped harder against her cheeks, the sudden, sharp spike of his physical strength violently shattering her composed facade. The absolute wall of his suppressed fury finally ruptured. “That is enough,” he growled, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, low-frequency rage. “If you utter a single additional syllable of termination, I will lose my restraint.”

He leaned down, his lips dropping in a light, agonizingly controlled kiss against the trembling outer corner of her eye.

Pei Xiqing’s eyelids twitched violently, her breath catching.

The contact was superficially delicate, but the naked, unadulterated aggression burning behind his green eyes was entirely unmasked. He was marking his asset.

Pei Xiqing forced herself half a step back, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, she reached up, her fingers locking onto the dense muscles of his forearm to anchor herself. “Brother Duan… am I running an incorrect calculation? Or do you simply require a flawless, silent vase to display on your mantle—an object to play with when your administrative duties grow tedious, and to be casually liquidated the second the high command runs a audit?”

Duan Xiaolin’s eyes narrowed into razor-thin crescents behind his lenses, his jaw hard.

He was entirely, murderously furious.

That was the only coherent thought remaining in Pei Xiqing’s short-circuiting brain.

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