She Had a Home of Her Own

The aunts said nothing, but their quiet actions silently backed Song Weishi. Unwilling to speculate about her relationships, they all dispersed and returned to their own rooms.

No sooner had Song Weishi returned than she heard a familiar voice: “Host.”

Her hand, clutching the flashlight, froze. Then she nearly burst out in excitement, “System? Is that you, System?”

The System’s voice was soft, but Song Weishi heard it clearly: “It’s me.”

“What happened to you? Why have you been silent for so long? I thought you’d left this world. What’s going on?”

Her barrage of questions seemed to stall the System for a moment. After a long pause, it spoke again: “I’m sorry, Host. I was forced into hibernation earlier due to energy depletion.”

Song Weishi pressed on. “Was it because of that jumping spider before?”

“Yes. That spider was trying to forcefully take over your mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wake you. I had no choice but to activate defense mode. If you had turned into a monster, the System would have detached immediately.”

Song Weishi nodded in understanding and sat down on the bed. “I see.”

But another thought struck her. “But if you detached from me, wouldn’t you be able to find a new target?”

Recalling what the System had said earlier, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease.

The System, however, didn’t seem bothered by her tone. “Of course. But now the System is deeply bound to you, Host. I’m sorry—I’d like to apologize once again for my earlier intentions and hope you can forgive me.”

System: °ω°

Only then did Song Weishi fully relax. “Alright. From now on, we’re in this together, for life or death. I’ll save up more energy so I won’t let you fall asleep again.”

The System had been sincere this time—saving her had nearly cost it everything. Song Weishi remembered how cold the System had been toward her at first, and now it seemed like a completely different entity.

Since the System was genuine with her, she would open her heart in return.

Well-fed and content, Song Weishi finally lay down and slept soundly.

Early the next morning, she abandoned her ostrich mentality, opened the door, and joined everyone openly.

Throughout this journey, she had forged deep bonds with the aunts, and a foundation of trust had grown between them.

The quarantine area for family members was practically paradise—she even thought it was better than what most people inside the city had.

The aunts had even found two decks of cards to play with. Xie Huiqing had only shown her face once on the first day before rushing back to handle official business.

Her actual authority was nearly comparable to that of the top leader. If not for her youth and need for more experience, she would already hold the top position.

Song Weishi had no doubt about that. From what she’d learned earlier from Captain Chu, Xie Huiqing wielded considerable real power, with a broad scope of jurisdiction.

Huihai City was said to be divided into ten districts, but the main urban area was essentially in the first three. Xie Huiqing was the boss of those three districts. Xie Huiying had always kept a low profile, and the aunts hadn’t thought much of it.

That was why Song Weishi had misjudged things—she’d expected a difficult struggle to get in, but entering had turned out to be remarkably easy.

Still, she didn’t want to rely on connections. Otherwise, she’d owe too many favors.

Of course, the fact that she had saved them wasn’t something she could openly acknowledge, so their relationship would have to remain as it was for now.

The matter Song Weishi had asked Xie Huiying to broach surprised Xie Huiqing. Song Weishi’s appearance was too deceptive—though she had weathered the journey with them, she didn’t look that formidable.

She wasn’t particularly sturdy, and her quiet, obedient demeanor when lost in thought seemed like that of a fresh graduate—a traditional good girl. Combined with the elders’ worries about her, Xie Huiqing had mistakenly assumed she was a sheltered young woman.

She’d expected Song Weishi to pick some simple logistics job, since people naturally gravitate toward ease. Yet she voluntarily chose to join the security team.

Even her sister, who always spoke with a worried tone, fully supported the decision. Xie Huiqing was puzzled but obliged by making the arrangements, allowing Song Weishi to return to Chu Miaoxuan’s command.

She admitted she’d judged Song Weishi prematurely based on appearances, but after learning the truth, she completely discarded her earlier assumptions.

These were minor matters, though—Xie Huiqing arranged things casually and promptly forgot about it.

Over the next few days, Song Weishi kept running into Xie Yi. At first, she felt a bit awkward, but eventually she became completely immune to it.

She could move freely around Xie Yi now, though she still subconsciously avoided looking at her.

The aunts seemed to notice her uneasy mood. Without her having to say a word, they’d bring meals from the cafeteria to her door.

Song Weishi ate quickly, and the food was different every day—nothing like the fare at the Suo Harbor quarantine zone.

Having enjoyed a few good days, she now found the thought of that lump of mincemeat over rice difficult to stomach.

Indeed, one shouldn’t get too comfortable too quickly. She could no longer sympathize with her former self from just days ago.

If she had to eat that food again, she could, but her heart would resist.

She wailed internally—this had to be treatment reserved for people like Xie Huiying. She wondered how long it would take to readjust once she left.

With that thought, she stuffed the remaining three pieces of pork cutlet on her plate into her mouth.

The food in the quarantine zone was too good. After finishing today—the last day—she’d be out.

A total of seven days. Apart from the monster she’d encountered at the Suo Harbor quarantine zone on the first day, these seven days had passed without any setbacks. Everyone was safe.

Still, Song Weishi felt something was off. After all, anywhere the female lead stayed couldn’t possibly be that safe.

From what the aunts had said, Xie Yi had basically followed the path they’d taken.

In just a day or two, the situation outside had grown increasingly dire.

Xinzhao City’s scorching heat was seemingly spreading outward. The people still trapped inside were like ants on a hot pan, desperately trying to escape.

The city had become uninhabitable.

The mud in the riverbeds had nearly baked dry. As long as no one entered Xinzhao City, those things wouldn’t be able to get out.

Over the past few days, Xie Huiqing had organized the intelligence they’d brought back and dispatched security squads to set up defensive measures outside the city.

Everyone entering the city had to pass through security checks. The number of people turning into monsters inside the city had surged, and all residents were required to take regular potions for testing.

Once a human transformed into a monster, it was essentially irreversible. No one had yet discovered the cause of the mutation.

The only option was to root out the danger the moment it was detected. It was then that Song Weishi understood what they’d be dealing with from now on.

She recalled the jumping spider from the small mountain village. Captain Chu had said that kind of monster was an extremely rare hallucinatory type. She’d never encountered one herself, and other squads that had faced such monsters reported they weren’t as strong as the one Song Weishi had described.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence, combined with the monster’s limitations—it could only parasitize one person at a time, so its lethality wasn’t as great as other hallucinatory creatures.

That was probably why it hadn’t spread.

Song Weishi breathed a sigh of relief. She figured she couldn’t be that unlucky every time. Last time was probably a fluke—she lacked experience facing such creatures then. But now, things were different.

She checked carefully, missing no corner.

After the quarantine ended, Song Weishi shouldered her pack and formally entered the city. With the help of the aunts and Xie Huiqing, she was assigned a small temporary apartment in the security team’s quarters.

As an apprentice security officer in Chu Miaoxuan’s team, both she and the System were very satisfied with the arrangement.

There wasn’t much opportunity to kill inside the city, but with the security officer identity as cover, she could legitimately kill people and monsters, accumulating energy and Points.

The energy the System had spent saving her far exceeded what she’d earned before, but after this incident, she was no longer keeping score.

They were now truly bound together in life and death. The System swore that from now on, it would always protect Song Weishi.

The alliance between the one person and one System was unbreakable.

After bidding farewell to the aunts, Song Weishi left the quarantine zone. Stepping outside, she spotted Captain Chu’s understated NU8 electric car.

It was her personal vehicle.

Song Weishi instinctively glanced back. In recent days, she’d seen Xie Yi get up earlier than her every morning, sitting quietly in the living room—but not today.

She felt a faint pang of strangeness, but the thought of not seeing her again soon lifted her spirits, and she strode toward Chu Miaoxuan’s car.

As the captain of the first squad, Chu Miaoxuan was constantly busy with missions. She’d been injured not long ago and was reassigned to guard the quarantine zone while recovering.

With her wounds mostly healed, she was preparing to lead the team out again.

As a new member, Song Weishi showed great consideration—even before the mission, she was already making herself useful.

After confirming who was inside the car, Song Weishi calmly took the passenger seat.

The leather seat was comfortable. She ran her hand over the armrest, facing a massive windshield that offered a clear view of everything outside.

The car started, leaving the quarantine zone and heading toward the city proper. It was Song Weishi’s first real glimpse of Huihai City. The harbor’s water was like a black mirror stained with paint, reflecting the layered concrete jungle across the shore.

The damp sea breeze cut through the streets, carrying salt and a metallic rust smell.

Skyways twisted overhead in overlapping layers. Light rail trains glided silently past, their blue cabin lights illuminating the bowed profiles of passengers.

The streets at ground level never saw sunlight, lit only by neon signs—stacked layers of advertisement, from fish ball noodle shop signs to laser projections for cybernetic repairs, splashing across the car body in bursts. Song Weishi could only catch a glimpse before everything rushed past and vanished into the information jungle behind.

Rainwater dripped from the edges of holographic billboards, pooling into rivulets on the ground, reflecting every color and distorting each one into an unfamiliar spectrum.

Song Weishi was captivated by the towering buildings and the bustling crowds, watching without blinking.

Chu Miaoxuan noticed her focus and smiled, striking up a conversation. “So, how do you like it? Huihai City’s different from everywhere else, isn’t it?”

Song Weishi nodded. All the cities she’d seen before were like those in her original world—actually, a bit more backward. But this place was completely different, like a scene out of a game.

“It wasn’t always like this. It’s all been built recently. With things so bad outside and people pouring in, Huihai City’s housing couldn’t keep up, so they had no choice but to keep expanding.”

For a port city, having this kind of capability was already impressive. The incoming population became free labor right away—solving their basic needs while accelerating construction, preventing Huihai City from falling into a vicious cycle.

Chu Miaoxuan pointed to a massive waste incineration plant in the distance and gave a brief introduction: “Right now, all our energy comes from there. Our mission is to develop new energy sources, expand sustainable production land, and find the cause of human mutation.”

Song Weishi stared in disbelief. She thought she’d be taking on a role like a police officer or government official.

Why did it feel like she was supposed to do all of this?

Seeing the shock on Song Weishi’s face, Chu Miaoxuan laughed. “Just kidding. That’s just a rough summary of our duties. You only need to handle one aspect. Field squads usually handle exploration and discovery. Higher-ups assign one task at a time—just follow the steps and you’ll be fine. No need to worry about the rest.”

Song Weishi’s heart, which had just leapt to her throat, settled back down. “Captain, you really know how to joke. If I were that versatile, I wouldn’t be here.”

The two of them laughed, and the car filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

“I originally thought Chief Xie would keep you in the district guard. The work there is easier, and you wouldn’t have to go out in the field. Among this batch, your physical fitness isn’t the best, but your overall ability is the highest. Such a good prospect—it’d be a shame if you didn’t join our field squad.”

Song Weishi said, “Compared to staying in the city, I… I actually prefer going out on expeditions.”

Even she found that statement a bit embarrassing. Her true motive was to avoid Xie Yi, but Chu Miaoxuan took her at face value and smoothly followed up:

“Of course. If that weren’t the case, you wouldn’t be here.”

The electric car wound through crowded streets, rounded a corner, and arrived at a relatively open plaza—this seemed to be Huihai City’s original government building.

Behind the spacious government building, a number of dormitory blocks had been added.

Chu Miaoxuan parked the car and led Song Weishi out. Work and home were connected—this way, she could commute without ever stepping outside.

Compared to her original world, where she had to squeeze onto the subway every morning, this was practically an ideal residence.

Still, she felt a bit stifled. Being so close felt awkward—she couldn’t imagine running into her boss and feeling at ease.

Fortunately, Chu Miaoxuan was unpretentious. After getting out of the car, she even offered to carry Song Weishi’s bag.

Song Weishi quickly waved her hands to decline, and she didn’t insist. “Here’s my number. Feel free to contact me if anything comes up. I live in the building next door, 2303.”

Chu Miaoxuan gave her a quick point in the right direction, then, as if worried Song Weishi might feel awkward, slipped into the elevator of the adjacent building and was gone.

There were a few large supermarkets downstairs, bustling with people. Song Weishi hadn’t received her wages yet, and most of the money from her card had been drained by the two people who’d squatted in her room back then.

Now she was flat broke. Carrying the daily necessities Chu Miaoxuan had given her, she looked at the supermarket with longing but could only sigh and shake her head, heading into her apartment building.

She swiped her face at the front desk, got her apartment card, and took the elevator upstairs.

The elevator was small. She got her room key and fiddled with it repeatedly as she pressed her floor.

These were basically government-rented single apartments, and the quality was excellent. If she hadn’t joined the security team, she never would have gotten a place like this.

It was far better than those hastily built, sound-leaking suites in the quarantine zone. Coming up, she hadn’t heard a single sound.

Song Weishi thought of the green house simulator she’d bought earlier.

She wondered if she could use it directly.

With anticipation, she watched the elevator numbers climb until it stopped at the 18th floor.

With a “ding,” Song Weishi stepped out. The hallway was narrow, with both sides seemingly full of residents, yet not a sound leaked out.

Song Weishi walked to her door and opened her room.

The moment the door swung open, she felt the entire world go quiet.

The entryway floor was terrazzo, with tiny fragments of mother-of-pearl embedded in the matte gray tiles, cool underfoot.

Song Weishi kicked her shoes into the gap beneath, the heels knocking dully against the wood. She closed the door and stretched.

Looking up, the whole apartment unfolded under warm yellow light. The living room was small but opened up thanks to a floor-to-ceiling window covering one wall.

Outside was the city’s never-extinguished skyline, but the thick linen curtains were half-drawn, leaving only a crack for the neon to blur into hazy ribbons, bleeding softly onto the glass—as if opening the window would let the chaos rush in.

Song Weishi stepped barefoot onto the oak floor, feeling the fine grain. The small living room held a dining table, a beige sofa, a few decorative paintings, and a gray-white floor lamp beside the couch.

A wool rug lay on the floor before the sofa. When her toes sank into it, it felt like stepping into dry grass warmed by the sun—a snug, all-encompassing embrace.

The bedroom door was open, revealing a white floor-to-ceiling wardrobe and a 1.5-meter bed that fit the room perfectly.

Song Weishi took out the bedding she’d collected earlier from her space and spread it on the small bed.

No need for a down comforter in this weather. She couldn’t wait to take a shower in the bathroom, then came out and lay down on her own little bed.

She pulled open the curtains and admired the view outside. An unprecedented sense of happiness wrapped around her.

This was a little apartment made just for her—especially comfortable, and more than enough for just one person.

Song Weishi took out the green card from her space. “System, I want to set up my house simulator here.”

The System immediately responded: “Received. Host, you can set the positions of the simulator and appliances on the panel. Full hidden mode is now enabled for the entire apartment—those without permission cannot see any furnishings belonging to the house simulator.”

Song Weishi nodded. The little apartment appeared as a 3D model outlined in green lines on the system panel. She placed the solar panels she’d stored outside the apartment so they could absorb sunlight at any time.

Being on the 18th floor, and since the government center wasn’t as densely packed as the surrounding area, it could still catch a bit of sunlight. Once the house simulator was activated, everything produced by the System couldn’t be recalled instantly unless she carried it with her.

But inside this apartment, it could. She could recall anything at any time, even when she wasn’t there.

After setting up the solar panels, Song Weishi placed the air conditioner inside, connected the converter, and started cooling.

The apartment’s electricity had a usage limit, so while housing was free, running the AC around the clock wasn’t possible.

It was sweltering outside, and she didn’t want to suffer at home. With the solar panels and AC, she could just lie back and be comfortable.

After filling the entire room with items from her space, her dangerously low storage finally freed up.

To outsiders, her room would look mostly empty—almost nothing in it. But from Song Weishi’s perspective, it was full, which was deeply satisfying.

The disappointment of not being able to buy things faded somewhat. If she’d had to rely solely on what Chu Miaoxuan had given her, she really would have had to ask for help.

Good thing she had the System. She’d accumulated quite a bit over the past few days—even if supplies ran out for a long stretch, she’d never starve.

Just as she finished putting everything in place, she saw messages from the aunts.

“Xiao Song, we bought you some stuff and had someone bring it over.”

She’d given the aunts her address as soon as she confirmed it—they’d insisted.

Song Weishi couldn’t refuse. And really, who would complain about having more things?

She waited a moment, checking the new app on her phone. Everything here was shockingly expensive; the cheapest commodity was labor.

They’d called for a courier, which shouldn’t cost much. Song Weishi thought for a moment, then plugged in the fridge. She hadn’t rewired anything—if the room used zero electricity from the grid, wouldn’t that be odd?

She turned on one lamp in the living room, chatting with the group as she waited for the courier.

The women had created a group chat and were chattering away about everything they’d seen today, sharing it all with Song Weishi.

She scrolled through quickly. After a while, a knock finally came at the door.

Song Weishi put away her phone, thinking it strange that the courier didn’t need her to buzz them up via the elevator.

The moment she opened the door, a tall figure stood there, holding two large bags of things. Song Weishi slammed the door shut with a bang.

Xie Yi. She must be seeing things.