Apocalyptic Disaster: I Hoard Billions in Supplies and Kill the Saint

88: Chapter 88 Sugar-Coated BulletsVirta District, VIP Recuperation Level.

This was the most ”decent” place in the entire bunker—overly decent, to the point of feeling unreal.

The elevator doors opened, and the light, as if color-graded multiple times, emitted a warm orange hue designed to make one ”instinctively relax.”

The air was filled with the scent of a well-known fragrance brand from before the Apocalypse—not for the sake of the scent itself, but to awaken memories, making one forget they were currently in the Apocalypse.

Ye Nanxing was led into the corridor by two personnel in silver uniforms; the footsteps behind her were so light they were almost inaudible.

The moment she stepped into the guest room, the receptionists withdrew, and a figure stood waiting at the door.

He was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, with black hair cut to his ears, a handsome and refined face, and wore a gray and white uniform with a gentle demeanor.

”Miss Ye, welcome.”

He bowed slightly, his voice low and steady.

”I am Ning Zhou. I will be responsible for your daily arrangements over the next few days. If you have any requests, you can tell me directly.”

Ye Nanxing’s gaze landed on him, sweeping over him lightly, but she said nothing.

The other party’s expression was just right—humble but not fawning, intimate but not intrusive; every action had been professionally trained, coordinated like a scripted performance.

She did not call him out.

But she had already made her judgment—”It’s not service; it’s surveillance.”

The guest room was so luxurious it didn’t look like a survivor base at all.

The walls were made of temperature-controlled material, keeping the temperature constant at 23.5°C; every inch was calculated to be in the temperature zone most likely to make one ”lower their guard.”

The floor was made of soft stone, feeling almost like a spa underfoot—not just comfortable, but an implication: ”This is not the Apocalypse.”

The wardrobe slid open automatically, revealing rows of cashmere capes, high-end winter wear, and form-fitting heated clothing lined up, all dust-free, wrinkle-free, and even carrying the lingering scent of pre-Apocalypse laundry detergents.

In the corner, a silver-gray evening gown sat quietly, with a pair of custom silver high heels pressed under its hem, the tips adorned with tiny rhinestones that shimmered in the light, as if waiting for a ball that would never happen again.

The bathroom featured a hot stone massage pool, the water surface calm, surrounded by light strips, with a faint scent of lavender drifting in the air, like a permanent memory of some wealthy resort.

The moment she sat down, the room automatically sensed and identified her emotional level, and a soft light screen slowly unfolded.

[Screen Wall Activated · Scene ID: E-07 Snowy Fairytale]

The screen didn’t just play; it ”wrapped” the entire scene around her with a surround perspective, as if she weren’t sitting in a guest room, but had been transported to another world.

All around was a vast, silver-white snowfield, with sunlight spilling onto ice crystals, glowing with a dreamlike radiance.

In the distance were a few small wooden cabins with orange roofs, chimneys puffing steam, pine branches heavy with snow, and an old person walking out the door carrying a vegetable basket and a stew pot.

In the foreground, three or five children wrapped in thick cotton clothes were laughing and having a snowball fight; a white fox darted past them, looked back, tail sweeping lightly, its eyes clear—the sensory experience was even more real than reality.

The light and shadow on the snowfield shifted subtly with her gaze; if she tilted her head, snow would lightly fall at the edge of her vision; if she moved closer to the screen, the fox’s paw prints in the snow would become clearer bit by bit.

Even the sound of the wind had been processed multiple times—not biting, but gentle, soft, with the texture of a breeze meant to help one relax.

The entire scene was like a ”lullaby dream” of the old world.

—As if there had never been an extreme cold, never been death.

But Ye Nanxing sat there, her eyes calm, her whole body motionless.

She could hear the laughter of the Child, the crunching of snow underfoot, the gurgling of the boiling fire, the trailing sound of the white fox’s soft cry—everything was too perfect, perfect to the point of being calculated.

She leaned back on the sofa, her gaze like a knife beneath the ice.

This is not ”nostalgia.”

This is ”programming.”

An emotional stabilization testing ground tailored for ”ability users, dangerous individuals, and rebels.”

The more you don’t want to be trapped, the more you will be trapped by gentleness.

Ning Zhou stood behind the sofa, his posture straight, hands naturally folded in front of him, a gentle, unforced smile consistently on his face.

”Miss Ye, if you would like to rest more comfortably tonight, I can prepare a few sets of lightweight relaxation wear for you—they are hypoallergenic garments made from pure plant fibers, which have a soothing effect on one’s mood.”

”The room fragrance can also be adjusted. If you don’t like lavender, I can switch it to white tea, teak, or fruity scents.”

”Additionally... if you wish for better sleep quality, the sleep-aid lights and aromatherapy massage services equipped here can be activated at any time.”

The tone was light, the rhythm steady, without any sense of overstepping, yet warm and attentive.

When he spoke, his voice was controlled at a frequency that was clear to hear yet not intrusive.

Even phrases like ”24/7 massage service,” when spoken by him, carried no uncomfortable ambiguity, only a sense of ”well-trained service awareness.”

Ye Nanxing did not reply immediately, just slowly swept her gaze over everything before her.

Everything in the room was so gentle it felt fake:

The floor was soft, the light was soft, the air temperature was soft; even the white porcelain cup on the table was as gentle as a dream.

She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Standing there, she watched in silence for a full half-minute.

Ning Zhou spoke softly: ”Do you not like it here?”

”Our reception area is rarely opened. This time, Mr. Lin gave specific instructions, so it was done a bit in a rush.”

”However, if you are dissatisfied with any part, I will make a note and adjust it immediately.”

His voice carried a hint of nervousness, but not subservience; it was the attitude of someone serious about their work.

Ye Nanxing raised her eyelids slightly and swept a glance back at him.

”When were you transferred here?”

”Yesterday morning.”

Ning Zhou answered crisply.

”I was originally at the frontline logistics recording post. Because I know a bit of the Southern language family, I was transferred over. I suppose... I’m quite lucky.”

When he said this, his tone paused for a split second, and the barely concealed desire in his eyes surfaced lightly.

Not for her—

But for the resources and class she represented.

Ye Nanxing’s eyes flickered.

This man wasn’t deeply disguised; he just knew how to hide, and was willing to bet his life to change his fate.

He was not a monitor sent by the system.

He was just a low-level worker who, having luckily held a cup of warm water, wanted to brew himself into the fragrance of tea.

She understood this type of person—

Not bad.

But if you let him ”see a glimmer of hope for getting ahead,” he would sell you out without hesitation.

”Did they send you to make me relax, or to make me let go?”

She thought this, but said nothing.

If she hadn’t been reborn, having already experienced betrayal and death under the blizzard, if this were her first time facing such a gentle, exquisite cage, perhaps she would truly have succumbed.

Truly believing that even in the Apocalypse, there could still be light, warmth, wine, and laughter.

She finally withdrew her gaze and said casually: ”No massage, and no drinks.”

”Arrange for me to tour the base tomorrow.”

Ning Zhou was stunned for a moment, then nodded immediately.

”Understood. I will apply for access permissions from my superiors. It is expected that the approval will be completed by 10 AM tomorrow morning.”

Turning around, Ye Nanxing swept a glance at the entire row of ”illogically beautiful” high-end wardrobes.

Every piece was hung neatly, with absolutely no cold-weather emergency functionality; they were all taming tools with ”zero functionality and maximum inducement.”

These clothes were not prepared for survival.

They were born for control.

To tame those who were still resisting, still thinking, still trying to escape.

Ye Nanxing smiled slightly, a hint of disdain seemingly at the corner of her eyes.

Then she looked at Ning Zhou, the smile suddenly fading, replaced by a calm and meaningful deep tone:

”Wake me up early tomorrow.”

”Don’t waste my time.”