Actually, Jing Shu's figure wasn't bad at all, but the thick bulletproof vest layered under a huge cotton coat made her look instantly bulky. The rigid plates of the armor forced her shoulders into a broad, squared-off line.
With her boots giving off a pastoral vibe and the pants a rural flair, this mismatched outfit would have been unbearable if her face wasn't as pretty as it was—Yang Yang probably couldn't have tolerated it otherwise. He kept glancing at her, his eyes drifting from her pale, porcelain skin to the massive, lumpy silhouette of the coat.
"I'm not changing, let's go. It's warm." Jing Shu was scared of the cold, scared of dying, and she hadn't even put on the modified bulletproof cowboy hat yet. It was stashed deep in her pack, waiting for the lawless streets of the U.S. A lot of her ridiculous appearance was intentional, helping her stay safer in America. If she dressed normally, her beauty would probably cause more trouble than it was worth. In such an open, desperate place, no one could be trusted to behave. She preferred to look like a padded ball of cotton rather than a target for unwanted attention.
Yang Yang looked weird, like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. He adjusted his own leather jacket, the material creaking in the stillness.
Jing Shu hesitated too. With so little on in the cold U.S., he would freeze. The wind there would cut through that cracked leather like a serrated knife. And if she lent him her massive cotton coat, she would never get it back. She tightened her grip on the handle of her luggage cart.
Luckily, Yang Yang drove a military pickup capable of holding all her luggage. The tires crunched over the frozen, uneven ruts of the road as they drove. After half an hour, they arrived at the old airport from twenty years ago. Wu City's new airport was now a refuge, with no runway for flying—basically like Xuanwu Lake Park. After a year of flooding, it was full of trash and mud, totally unfit for aircraft.
The old airport was tiny, just a 400-meter runway and a row of low, crumbling buildings. Abandoned for years, it hadn't flooded but was overrun with weeds and swarms of bugs able to survive the apocalypse. The dry stalks rattled against each other in the wind. The terrain was full of potholes. When Jing Shu arrived, a steamroller was patrolling back and forth, the heavy iron drum vibrating the earth as it flattened the ground to prevent any accidents during takeoff.
Jing Shu kept thinking, "Holy shit, is this even safe?" Such a makeshift setup, and she was supposed to trust a plane with her life? The runway looked like a patchwork quilt of packed dirt and cracked asphalt.
The plane itself sat on the runway, not a pre-apocalypse passenger plane but a small private jet. Its white fuselage gleamed under the grey, heavy sky. This was Qian Duoduo's personal plane. It was rich and extravagant, a relic of extreme wealth parked in a graveyard of weeds.
"Let's go," she said.
Her luggage was obviously too much. The bodyguards struggled to hoist the crates into the hold. Only her weapons and personal mega-suitcase fit inside; the other giant trunk had to be carried by hand onto the plane.
Once aboard, Jing Shu felt poor again in a way she hadn't imagined. Planes could actually be made as luxurious as a hotel room, not crammed with endless rows of seats. The carpet under her boots was thick and soft, a deep cream color that seemed impossible in the mud outside.
Yang Yang quietly explained, "This is Qian Duoduo's private jet, designed for 13 people. Minus two pilots and one attendant, plus two companions going to the U.S. with us, and three administrative staff heading to the Imperial Capital, that's ten people total for this trip."
Jing Shu walked in and immediately saw the reception area, stocked with rare apocalypse food like sealed chocolates and dried fruits. A tall, foreign woman smiled at her and Yang Yang. This was where flight attendants would normally greet passengers on a commercial jet, and the same applied here. Her uniform was crisp and tailored, a sharp contrast to the ragged world below.
Further inside was the first-class cabin. On the right side was a single adjustable massage bed, the dark leather looking supple and expensive. On the left was a mini dining area with four leather chairs and a polished wooden table. Space between seats was enormous, far more comfortable than even commercial first class.
A person already lay on the bed, another sat in a chair with a dog. These two must be Jing Shu's companions to the U.S. They looked up as she entered, their eyes sharp and calculating.
Further ahead was another cabin, with a three-person sofa and a small dining area, including a table for two and two chairs. Three people were already seated there, presumably going to the Imperial Capital. They were dressed in formal suits, looking strangely out of place in the end times.
Soft warm lights, relaxing music from a hidden speaker, and the tall woman's greeting made Jing Shu almost feel like she had stepped back before the apocalypse—until the woman handed her and Yang Yang two packages, shattering the momentary illusion.
"Take these parachutes. In case of emergency, jump anytime." The woman spoke flawless Chinese, her expression professional and calm.
Jing Shu's smile froze. "Holy shit, that's terrifying." She took the heavy pack, the straps cold in her hands.
After handing the overweight trunk to the woman, she led the obedient yet curious Xiao Dou, who followed Yang Yang, to the four-person dining table. Clearly, the passengers were divided into two groups: four going to the U.S., three heading to the Imperial Capital.
"Finally, you're late. So this is the famous woman who caught Zero? Not bad-looking, though that outfit…" A skinny man sitting in a seat like a monkey teased boldly, his voice high and exuding arrogance.
He petted the dog next to him while sipping a beverage from the plane. Jing Shu noticed Monkey's thick knuckles and rough hands, much bigger than his frail body suggested. His skin was calloused, the marks of a man who lived by the strength of his grip.
Yang Yang smiled casually. "This guy is a top-ranked scout in all of China, with an extra skill called bone-shrinking ability. Opens any door. Just call him Monkey. On this mission, he will scout, counter-scout, and distract enemy fire. He is basically a recon/assassin type, rated B+.
And the little dog beside him may look cute and quiet, but it's a Tosa, a vicious breed banned in most countries. It has killed many escaped convicts. Rating C, overall A-." The dog sat motionless, its small eyes watching Jing Shu with a predatory stillness.
Yang Yang then pointed to the person on the massage bed. "This is Hao Yunlai, a survival champion. He is skilled in outdoor survival, excellent voice mimicry, can disguise himself if needed, and has a sixth sense for danger. With him, we will avoid disasters. Role: support/logistics, rated A. If anyone comes back from this mission, it will definitely be him."
Hao Yunlai rubbed his messy hair, greeting Jing Shu like a sleepy, laid-back guy. He didn't even sit up, just gave a small wave of his hand.
It was Jing Shu's first time seeing national-level 'talented freaks.' Strange abilities really existed in this new world. But after seeing someone like Su Mali with insane luck, she felt Hao Yunlai wouldn't be much different if Su Mali came along. But she was already rich—she probably didn't need any of this. Truly blessed by heaven.
Monkey grinned at Yang Yang's explanation and nodded, then raised an eyebrow at Jing Shu. "And you? Who is this? And that combat pet you brought—what is it? Only two legs?" He leaned forward, squinting at the armored bird.
Fully armed Xiao Dou really did look impossible to identify. The steel helmet only added to the badass vibe, reflecting the soft interior lights of the cabin.