Cheng Shuili slammed the throttle to its limit, and her electric shopping cart roared to life. It might look like a glorified grocery getter, but when push came to shove, this baby delivered. The wind whipped past, the gilded "50% Off" decals glinting under the blazing sun.
That muscle-bound cyclist? Even if he pedaled until his legs caught fire, he'd never catch her.
The gap between cart and bicycle yawned wider by the second.
~
For Zhang Daqiang, this was a lifeline. The first living soul he'd seen in this hellish survival game! He couldn't make out the vehicle's details, but it was a vehicle. No pedals, no soul-crushing legwork—just pure, glorious speed.
His thighs burned, screaming with every pump of the pedals. He'd thought his brawn would make the system's tasks a cakewalk. A bicycle seemed perfect: no fuel, no batteries, just trade those for supplies and live like a king. In a moment of hot-headed optimism, he'd locked it in.
Big mistake.
He hadn't trained his legs. Yesterday's 50-kilometer slog nearly killed him, and today? His legs were jelly, every muscle howling. Then the system had the gall to tack on ten more kilometers.
Ten!
Despair clawed at him, his pedaling growing sluggish—until he spotted that cart. Highway merge! Hope surged, and he stomped the pedals like a man possessed, chasing the figure ahead. But just as he closed in, they clocked him and gunned it.
The distance stretched again, a mocking chasm.
"No way I'm losing this!" Zhang Daqiang swiped the sweat from his brow and bellowed, "Hey! Why're you bolting? Highway merge is fate! Let's trade! Or just talk, be buds!"
The wind swallowed his words. Cheng Shuili caught only a faint "be buds."
Buds? She scoffed, gripping the throttle tighter. The kind of buds who rob you blind and leave you for dead? Hard pass.
She wasn't gambling her life on some rando's goodwill. Lesson one from her last death: stay alive, or nothing else matters. Fun was for the living; the dead got zip.
Her cart screamed ahead, leaving the cyclist in the dust. She even had time to pull over, crack open a wooden treasure chest, and poke through its loot: 2 liters of domestic water, packed into a chest way too small to hold it, not a drop spilled. Weird. She peered inside—clear, pristine water.
No way she was wasting this. She hauled the chest to her cart and poured it into the sink's water tank, expecting it to fill up fast. But 10 liters later? Not a ripple.
Cheng Shuili blinked. The empty chest vanished in her hands, and it clicked: High-tech shenanigans. She crouched, spotting tiny text etched on the tank: Current capacity: 10 liters. Max: 50 liters.
Not infinite, but damn good. She grinned. One less thing to sweat.
Back in the driver's seat, she stole a glance behind her. No sign of the cyclist—not even a speck. Either she'd smoked him, or the highway merge had ended. Both were wins in her book.
The merge was freaky, though. No warning, no heads-up. If she hadn't been checking her six, she'd have missed him entirely. Gotta stay sharp.
"Everything 50% off!! Everything 50% off!" The cursed speaker blared, but after yesterday's torment, it was just white noise. Keep driving—what, ditch her sweet ride?
Her mind shifted gears. Highway merges meant danger, and her baseball bat wasn't cutting it. She needed a real weapon. A dagger, ideally—small, sneaky. Wave the bat, hide the blade, then bam, surprise attack.
Was backstabbing shady? Pfft. This was the apocalypse. Trash-talk was nothing compared to a dirt nap.
She flicked open the trading channel, scanning for deals. Nothing good, so she took the lead.
[Crow Takes Flight]: Got food, want weapons. Hit me up.
Her ID was a magnet. Within seconds, private messages flooded in.
[Don't You Want Me Anymore]: Yo, Boss, how's a fruit knife? Counts as a weapon, right? One self-heating rice box, or hotpot. I'm chill.
Nice try, freeloader. Cheng Shuili smirked, scrolling past a parade of scams, moochers, and straight-up trolls.
Just as she was about to bail, a familiar name popped up.
[Liang Shanbo & Pig Charge]: Crow Boss, got a dagger? Pulled two, don't need 'em. Toss me some food, and we're square.
Jackpot. Exactly what she wanted. But she barely knew this guy. No ripping off or getting ripped off.
[Crow Takes Flight: Rice or hotpot. Your call.
Two seconds later:
[Liang Shanbo & Pig Charge]: Hotpot! Been dying for one!
She fired off the trade and snagged the dagger. Its description popped up:
[Steel Dagger: Solid newbie weapon. Lucky find. +1 Strength when held.]
Cheng Shuili's jaw dropped. Attribute boost? This guy scored two of these and traded one for a hotpot? Who's this saint?
Her prized hotpot suddenly felt like a cheap trade. She didn't have much to offer now, but she'd square it later. Mental note: owe Berzhu one.
The day rolled on smoothly. By 3 p.m., she fiddled with the radio—still no coordinate intel. Another wooden chest yielded an electric mini-cooking pot, wired straight to the cart's battery.
She could cook her own meals now.
Cheng Shuili's eyes lit up. She'd clawed her way from scavenging scraps to chef mode. Sure, her cooking skills were… questionable. But this? This was progress.
Game on, apocalypse.