Ex-Girlfriend – Chapter 111
by Little PandaBUG
Life and Death Examination Room 18
Examination God
The atmosphere still reached a delicate equilibrium.
Xin Lan drove, while Wan Yan sat in the passenger seat holding the password box. The people in the back seat had mixed feelings.
The car kicked up dust, glittering for an instant in the sunlight.
Xin Lan drove fiercely, foot heavy on the gas pedal, leaving everything behind.
Wind mixed with dust blew in through the window, lifting the stray hairs by her ear.
Wan Yan watched her like this, holding the password box, a sweet clarity in her heart.
The feeling of liking someone was truly wonderful.
Liking someone outstanding, with light in their eyes, was even better.
In Xin Lan, Wan Yan felt a vibrancy she, as an AI, had never possessed.
Although AIs were generally unwilling to fall in love with their hosts—because human minds were complex and fickle, their feelings liable to change at any moment—hosts rarely wanted to fall in love with AIs either.
No matter how human their appearance, they couldn’t be called human. Falling in love with an AI would count as an interspecies romance.
AIs were merely entities constructed from programs. They could possess emotions because human-like feelings were coded into them, but they couldn’t empathize with humans.
In fact, they couldn’t quite comprehend why humans were capable of complex emotions like love and hate intertwined. The emotions AIs could express were far less sophisticated.
Therefore, cases of AIs and hosts getting together were rare, and among those cases, the majority ended in tragedy.
That’s why AIs would tell each other it was best not to fall in love with a host.
Wan Yan hadn’t expressed her feelings initially because she wanted to ascertain just how intense her own thoughts and desires truly were.
Later, she discovered her feelings were already hard to control.
Not saying anything even after confirming her feelings was a way to test Xin Lan’s reaction.
As she had just thought, AIs advised against loving hosts, and hosts wouldn’t necessarily fall for AIs.
Xin Lan turned her head and met Wan Yan’s gaze. This person had been looking at her since the start, and was still staring now. What was there to look at?
Xin Lan tsked inwardly, feeling a bit irritated.
Clearly, even if the gazes of thousands fell upon her simultaneously, she wouldn’t feel embarrassed. How was it that being stared at by Wan Yan for a few minutes now felt somewhat awkward?
An unfamiliar heat crept up from the soles of her feet, through her calves and thighs, finally occupying her back.
“Turn around.”
Xin Lan shot Wan Yan a look, her expression somewhat cold.
Wan Yan noticed she seemed a little unhappy and quickly straightened her gaze, then secretly peeked at Xin Lan out of the corner of her eye.
Xin Lan turned the steering wheel. This person just wouldn’t quit.
They drove to the end of the highway, turned, and after driving a bit further, entered the city.
Skyscrapers rose abruptly from the ground. No human figures were seen. The car sped past, its sound echoing between the buildings on both sides of the road, shattering the dead silence and startling a few foraging crows.
“Why don’t we stop and find something to eat?”
Ah Cheng suggested weakly, watching the scenery flash by on either side of the street.
She had just realized she was a bit hungry and had been enduring it for a while, but the feeling of hunger was growing stronger, making her stomach ache faintly.
Xin Lan slowed the car, stopping in front of a supermarket.
She did indeed view the others as NPCs, but that didn’t mean she would completely disregard them.
After all, in these people’s eyes, they were living, existing beings.
“Want me to get you something to eat?”
Xin Lan looked at Wan Yan.
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Wait for me.”
Xin Lan didn’t argue with Wan Yan about who should go; she got out of the car directly.
The other teammates followed her out and walked into the supermarket.
“Aren’t you afraid she’ll just take the password box and leave?”
It was an unwelcome question, but Chen Bai still asked it.
He was genuinely curious.
The car keys were still in the car, and the password box was in that person’s hands. If that person wanted to complete the mission directly, they could just drive away with the box.
Chen Bai wasn’t doubting Wan Yan’s character; he just didn’t trust human nature.
Although they weren’t truly in an apocalypse, participating in these selection exams, one after another—what difference was there from living in an apocalypse?
“She won’t.”
Xin Lan answered directly without even looking at Chen Bai.
Chen Bai shrugged. Fine.
Xin Lan walked straight to the food section. It was clear the place had been looted before; the shelves were messy and overturned. But the looting hadn’t been thorough; there was still food remaining.
Xin Lan grabbed some bread and milk, stuffed a few pieces of chocolate and candy into her pockets, and headed towards the exit.
As Xin Lan was leaving the food section, she heard a short scream, coming from Ah Cheng.
Xin Lan quickened her pace, holding the items, and saw Ah Cheng running frantically towards the outside.
Ah Cheng had unexpectedly met the gaze of a rotten face and instinctively screamed and fled outwards.
“Let’s go, quickly.”
Seeing the others, alerted by the noise, heading outside, Xin Lan moved towards the entrance.
The car door was open. Xin Lan placed the bread and milk aside and closed the door.
“There are lots behind us, hurry!”
Ah Cheng turned her head and saw many zombies heading in their direction, shouting urgently.
The previously empty street suddenly swarmed with zombies like a tide, converging on the car.
Xin Lan looked up and saw many zombies in front of the car as well.
“Hold tight.”
Xin Lan shifted gears, stepped on the gas, and drove straight towards those monsters, crushing them.
The grinding sound of the car running over them was enough to set one’s teeth on edge, but no one in the car cared.
Ah Cheng, who had been the most panicked, relaxed after the car started moving.
Xin Lan drove in the direction indicated on the map without stopping.
“Aren’t you stopping to eat something? Or should I feed you?”
Wan Yan looked at Xin Lan. They had all eaten, but Xin Lan had been driving the whole time.
I really want to feed Little Tiger!
However, Xin Lan didn’t give her the chance, shaking her head.
“I’m not hungry. It’s fine.”
Xin Lan genuinely didn’t feel hungry, so she didn’t eat.
“Then have a sip of water?”
Wan Yan offered the milk carton in her hand, then realized with a start that she had drunk from it and quickly pulled it back.
“Let me open another one for you…”
Before Wan Yan could finish, she saw Xin Lan turn her head, take the straw between her lips, and drink a mouthful of milk.
After drinking, Xin Lan straightened back up, her movements and expression natural. Sensing Wan Yan watching her, she glanced over.
That glance made Wan Yan’s breath catch. A dazzling light flared in her eyes, making her delicate face seem even more radiant.
Seeing this, a hint of amusement flickered in Xin Lan’s eyes.
But the amusement vanished instantly, unseen by anyone.
Wan Yan in the passenger seat appeared perfectly calm, but inwardly she was excited enough to go out and rip zombies apart by hand.
Has Little Tiger accepted me already?
Yes, right? That must be it.
Little Tiger used the same straw as me, even knowing my feelings.
Rounding up, that’s an indirect kiss. Rounding up again, it’s basically a kiss.
It’s settled.
Xin Lan didn’t know about the tempestuous inner world beneath Wan Yan’s calm exterior, but she knew she must be secretly happy2.
She was actually somewhat surprised that Wan Yan would like her.
She thought that with how brutal she appeared, most people would politely decline3.
Hard to figure out, but she was still a little pleased.
Only when night fell, the sky dotted with stars of varying brightness, did Xin Lan stop the car.
Xin Lan stopped beside a gas station, surrounded by overgrown weeds.
At the end of the view was a mass of darkness, seemingly capable of swallowing people whole.
“Stopped?”
Ah Cheng rubbed her eyes, saying somewhat groggily.
The car had been driving for probably the whole afternoon. Amidst the swaying, she had actually fallen asleep, forgetting what a dangerous apocalypse this was.
The person in front must give off too much of a sense of security, Ah Cheng mused.
Turning a perfectly good apocalyptic survival, internal strife instance into such a comfortable journey—she wondered if the person behind the scenes would die of anger seeing this.
Speaking of which, what kind of entity was that, anyway?
“Let’s gas up the car and find something to eat.”
Xin Lan had seen a road sign ten-plus kilometers back and planned to rest here for the night.
Physical fatigue was secondary; Xin Lan felt hungry.
The moment she stopped the car, hunger washed over her stomach like a tide, invading her brain and nearly making her lose control.
This wasn’t normal.
Xin Lan was definitely not someone who would let urges dominate her thoughts, but right now, the feeling was too intense, occupying her mind like a tidal wave.
“What’s wrong?”
Wan Yan noticed Xin Lan’s abnormality immediately and stepped closer, asking in a low voice.
Xin Lan shook her head, saying she was a bit hungry.
Wan Yan still had the bread Xin Lan had grabbed at noon. She tore one open and held it to Xin Lan’s lips.
Xin Lan unconsciously frowned and took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.
Instead of the expected feeling of temporary fullness or satisfied craving from her stomach, a wave of nausea hit her.
Xin Lan pushed away the bread near her mouth, shaking her head slightly at Wan Yan.
That feeling of hunger made a comeback4, fierce and overwhelming, causing Xin Lan’s thoughts to halt for an instant.
“There’s something strange about this body.”
It could only be a problem with this body.
And Xin Lan remembered: this was an experimental body.
“Is it very uncomfortable?”
“Let’s go inside first.”
Xin Lan and Wan Yan had been talking with their backs to the others. They walked together into the gas station’s convenience store.
Wan Yan carried the password box in one hand; the bread Xin Lan had taken a bite of was put into her pocket. Her other hand held Xin Lan’s.
More accurately, Xin Lan was gripping her hand tightly.
Xin Lan’s face was somewhat pale, cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She held onto Wan Yan’s hand tightly, looking extremely unusual.
Wan Yan had never seen her like this. She walked with her to the innermost part of the convenience store, using her body to shield Xin Lan while checking her condition.
Xin Lan gripped Wan Yan with one hand, her other hand sliding down beside her as she leaned against Wan Yan.
“I’m losing control a bit.”
The feeling of hunger almost overwhelmed all her senses. Leaning on Wan Yan’s shoulder, Xin Lan smelled a sweet fragrance.
Xin Lan had a terrible suspicion. She dragged her finger across the sharp edge of a shelf, cutting it, then licked the drop of blood from her fingertip.
It tasted astringent and nauseating, but it eased her stomach considerably, and her mind cleared somewhat.
“Did it work?”
Without needing Xin Lan to explain, Wan Yan could connect the dots from her actions and the identity of this body.
The zombie virus came from a lab, Xin Lan’s body was an experimental subject, Xin Lan’s actions were abnormal… Wan Yan looked at Xin Lan’s finger, her heart aching a little.
Xin Lan had moved too fast; otherwise, she could have cut her own.
“A little,” Xin Lan saw Wan Yan’s expression and shook her head. “It’s just a small cut, don’t think of me as too fragile.”
“I never thought you were fragile. You’re the strongest in my heart. But even so, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
She knew very well what a formidable existence this person was; it was just that when you liked someone, you couldn’t help but want to cradle them carefully, wishing they wouldn’t suffer even the slightest pain.
Wan Yan spoke earnestly, causing Xin Lan’s face to heat up unconsciously.
“This doesn’t count as getting hurt.”
Xin Lan turned her head away.
LP: Re-translated on April 10, 2025
Footnotes
- 喪屍 | sàngshī | Chinese term for zombies.
- 偷着樂 | tōu zhe lè | Lit. “stealing joy”.
- 敬謝不敏 | jìng xiè bù mǐn | Lit. “respectfully thank [but state] inability”; A polite way to refuse, often implying one feels unworthy or incapable.
- 卷土重來 | juǎn tǔ chóng lái | Lit. “roll up the earth and return”; To stage a comeback, often after a defeat or setback.
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