[Weapons, medicine, communication, even energy. When the world collapses, people won't just need food. They'll need the ability to fight, heal, and rebuild.]
Qingran exhaled slowly, piecing it together.
Feng Yizhou wasn't just hoarding supplies. He was investing in something bigger—something that would keep him not just alive but in control when everything crumbled.
She side-eyed him. He was still driving, his expression unreadable.
"Lingquan," she muttered, "remind me to never owe this man a favor."
[Too late for that.]
The hotel suite was bathed in soft golden light, the quiet hum of the city outside barely filtering in. Qingran adjusted the sleek black dress in front of the mirror, tilting her head slightly.
The fabric hugged her frame just enough to look elegant, but more importantly, it was practical. A knife was discreetly tucked into the folds, the slit along her thigh perfectly positioned for easy access. Hopefully, security wouldn't be thorough enough to notice.
