Reborn in the Apocalypse: A Seductive Beauty Captivates a Pure-hearted Roughneck

4: Chapter 4 Empathy, isn’t it also a form of seduction?Upon seeing Lu Chengyue for the first time, Wen Shuyang was startled by his imposing manner. She grabbed Xu Wanning’s arm, wanting to scream, but held it back.

Song Yunqing instinctively took a step back, wanting to run.

Only Xu Wanning kept staring at him, staring and staring, unwilling to look away, terrified that if she did, the person before her would vanish again.

Lu Zhiyu shoved the bag in her hand to Lu Chengyue. ”Mom asked me to bring this to you.”

She pointed to the three roommates beside her. ”These are my three roommates, Xu Wanning, Song Yunqing, and Wen Shuyang. I’ve wanted you all to meet for a while, but I never found the time.”

She then pointed to Lu Chengyue. ”This is my brother, Lu Chengyue.”

Lu Chengyue followed the most intense gaze back. Xu Wanning caught the sharpness in his eyes.

That was his instinct; only after assessing could he lower his guard.

Xu Wanning stood there, smiling at him. It was a very slight movement—the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, her eyelashes fluttered, appearing very shy, a mix of bashfulness and timidity.

Lu Chengyue was momentarily dazed. He had to admit, this was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, bar none.

He stepped aside from the doorway. ”Come in and sit.” His voice was even lower than before, like heavy drumbeats striking the tip of Xu Wanning’s heart.

Lu Zhiyu pulled them inside, familiarly dragging over a folding chair to sit down. ”Brother, did you stay up all night last night?”

”Yeah.” Lu Chengyue’s voice was deep, carrying a hint of exhaustion.

Xu Wanning, Wen Shuyang, and Song Yunqing sat obediently on the folding chairs lined up together, listening to the siblings’ brief conversation.

The equipment room wasn’t very large. The air was filled with the mixed scent of rubber and sweat; it wasn’t unpleasant, but it carried an aggressive sense of being surrounded by a masculine aura.

Lu Chengyue took out disposable cups and poured each of them a glass of warm water.

Afterward, he picked up the oxygen mask he had been organizing earlier; his fingers were distinct at the joints, and the calluses on his palms were clearly visible.

”How did you get here?” he asked, without looking up.

”By taxi.” Lu Zhiyu spotted the opened biscuits on the table, took them, and shared them with her friends.

”What did Mom and Dad bring?”

”I don’t know. I wanted to see, but Mom wouldn’t let me.” Lu Zhiyu pouted unhappily, ”Hmph.”

Xu Wanning kept her knees together, her toes slightly turned inward, appearing very obedient.

But her hand movements were not. Her left hand held the disposable paper cup, while the index finger of her right hand traced circle after circle around the rim of the cup. The movement was slow—so slow that to anyone watching, it would look like an unconscious habit.

Lu Chengyue’s gaze swept over her fingers for the third time, unintentionally. Each time, it was only for a fleeting moment, so short that no one else noticed.

Only Xu Wanning knew he was watching. In her past life, Lu Chengyue had been very fond of her fingers. No, not fond—obsessed.

She set down the cup, stood up, and pretended to curiously look up at a helmet on the shelf, where Lu Chengyue’s name was written.

She turned her head and met Lu Chengyue’s gaze. ”May I take a look?”

Lu Chengyue’s pupils constricted slightly. ”Mm.”

Xu Wanning stood on tiptoe to reach it, but at 172cm tall, it still wasn’t enough. The hem of her sweater lifted slightly, revealing a small segment of her slender waist—white, dazzlingly white.

Her fingers touched the edge of the helmet, but it was stuck on the shelf. Xu Wanning couldn’t get it and could only curl her fingers repeatedly.

The sound of a chair shifting came from behind her, and Xu Wanning couldn’t help but curl her lips into a smile.

Lu Chengyue walked over, said nothing, and reached his arm over the side of her shoulder to take the helmet down.

This movement almost had him half-enveloping Xu Wanning in his arms, the distance perfectly gauged so that he didn’t touch her at all.

Close enough.

Close enough for Xu Wanning to feel the breath he exhaled landing on the top of her head, warm and carrying the scent of mint;

Close enough to smell the lingering scent of laundry detergent on his training uniform, mixed with the unique scent of his body, making the back of her neck tingle—full of aggression.

Xu Wanning didn’t dodge, nor did she move closer; she simply tilted her head slightly and turned to look at him.

From this angle looking up, her eyelashes appeared exceptionally long, her expression innocent.

This angle, this expression—Xu Wanning had practiced it many times in front of the mirror. It was a seemingly casual glance back, yet every inch of it was imbued with charm.

”Thank you,” she said, her voice very soft, very light.

Lu Chengyue didn’t speak, looking down at her. His eyes were heavy with sleepiness, covered in a thin layer of mist, with something shifting inside the mist, gently stirring it as if wanting to leap out.

He took a step back, handed the helmet to Xu Wanning, returned to his chair, and picked up the oxygen mask again, but he didn’t continue organizing it, just clutched it in his hand.

”There are other snacks in the drawer,” he said, his voice even hoarser than before. ”Help yourselves.”

Lu Zhiyu gave an ”Mm” and got up to get the snacks from the drawer.

Wen Shuyang and Song Yunqing fiddled with their phones, though in reality, they had no idea what was on their screens. They were a bit scared; Zhiyu’s brother was so terrifying.

The air quieted down. Xu Wanning sat back down on the folding chair. This time, she sat slightly sideways, one leg crossed over the other, her toes pointing in the direction of Lu Chengyue.

Wen Shuyang tugged at her sleeve and shook it. ”Ningning, aren’t you scared of Zhiyu’s brother?”

Xu Wanning chuckled. ”Not at all. He’s so reassuring, isn’t he?”

Song Yunqing widened her eyes in shock. ”Are you serious?”

The boys they usually saw were of the slender type, with at most thin muscles.

But Lu Chengyue’s arms were thicker than their legs, and his bulging sleeves were filled with taut muscles—it was too oppressive.

His clenched fists were bigger than their faces; one punch from him and they’d probably be meeting their great-grandmothers in the afterlife, boo hoo.

Xu Wanning nodded gently. ”Mm, he’s a hero who protects the safety of the people, so why be scared?”

Wen Shuyang and Song Yunqing nodded in self-reproach. That’s right, Lu Chengyue was a firefighting hero; he should be nothing but reassuring.

Lu Chengyue kept his head lowered, not looking at them. He turned the oxygen mask in his hands over and over three times, not once really checking it.

But he was listening.

He heard Xu Wanning say he was a hero, say he wasn’t scary. He heard her laughter, the creaking of the chair occasionally shifting, and the subtle sounds made by her every movement.

He had stayed up for 24 hours without closing his eyes. His attention should have been scattered, and he should have wanted to sleep, but at this moment, his hearing was exceptionally sharp—so sharp that it felt like he could hear her breathing.

Xu Wanning deliberately let out a small yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

Lu Zhiyu turned to look at her. ”Are you sleepy?”

Xu Wanning wiped away the tear squeezed from the corner of her eye. ”A little.”

Wen Shuyang huffed. ”Who told you to binge-watch shows until two in the morning last night.”

Xu Wanning froze for a moment. That’s right, this body now wasn’t the one that had gone without sleep for forty-eight hours killing zombies, but the body from three years ago that secretly binge-watched shows.

She smiled and didn’t explain. She wasn’t actually sleepy at all; she was just saying that on purpose.

Lu Chengyue had stayed up all night. Her saying this would create a subtle sense of camaraderie—tiredness, the same kind of exhaustion—and the distance would then be bridged.

Is empathy not a form of seduction?