When they were being led inside the incredibly crowded compound, Zhao Yuan couldn't help but look around at the packed and messy streets. A mild, weird stench filled the air, making her quickly roll up her window as she tried to maintain an indifferent facial expression.
Turning to Tom, who was driving with a calm and serene posture, she wondered why he seemed entirely unaffected by the stale, dirty stench that had now seeped into the car. Feeling his boss's gaze on him, Tom took a quick glance at her expression, wondering why she was staring so intently without saying a word.
By the time they finally reached the main administrative block, the silence between them had grown heavier. They stepped out of the vehicle and were promptly led upstairs by Fu Zhe.
Inside the building, various faded signs guided their path, showing that this place had served as an administrative center before the disaster. Even from her short ride through the gates, Zhao Yuan could guess that the compound had likely been an enclosed residential estate. Considering they didn't have a system backing them, she had to admit that Liu Han had done an impressive job housing so many survivors. She couldn't help but wonder what they even ate, given the complete lack of food sources nearby.
Inside the office, Liu Han had been busy reviewing supply reports when Fu Zhe walked in to announce the guests. The moment he saw the cleanly dressed Zhao Yuan step into the room, he hid his sudden excitement behind a practiced, serious posture, stepping forward and extending his hand for a handshake.
Looking down at his brownish, dirt-stained hand, Zhao Yuan summoned every ounce of her remaining patience to shake it, silently promising herself to wash her hands thoroughly the second they left. Though Tom noticed his boss's subtle discomfort, he pretended not to, calmly shaking Liu Han's hand in turn before taking a seat beside her.
"Welcome to my humble abode!" Liu Han welcomed happily, genuinely appreciative of their willingness to meet on his turf.
"Thank you," Zhao Yuan replied, taking her seat. Looking down at her pristine white trousers, she internally questioned her choice of wardrobe for a dusty wasteland shelter. Even though the chair looked relatively clean, she resolved to wear strictly dark colors whenever she ventured out next time.
"Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?" Liu Han asked congenially, entirely unaware of the fastidious thoughts running through her head.
Hearing his offer, Zhao Yuan quickly shook her head. "I already had something this morning," she explained, hoping he wouldn't view her refusal as malicious—she simply didn't want to consume their scarce, meager supplies.
Leaning sideways, she whispered softly to Tom, realizing he might not have eaten yet, "Do you want any?"
"No," Tom responded smoothly, giving Liu Han a polite, negative gesture with his head.
"We are okay," Zhao Yuan resumed, neatly shifting the direction of the conversation. "We came here today because I noticed your people seemed eager to contact me yesterday, and because my branch happens to sit within your operational sector."
Hearing her direct words, Liu Han sat up straighter, dismissing Fu Zhe with a quick wave of his hand before leaning forward on his desk.
"Ah, yes. I noticed you had enough resources to operate a fully stocked restaurant," Liu Han admitted, his voice carrying a mix of awe and desperation. "Since my shelter is right next door, I wanted to ask if we could establish a trade agreement—or if your establishment could assist in feeding my people."
Zhao Yuan leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took complete control of the room's dynamic.
"Feed them? Liu Han, you have hundreds of starving survivors crammed into a decaying estate with no sustainable food chain," she said, her voice cool and measured. "Supplying you with random meals is a band-aid on a gaping wound. But I am in a position to offer you something far better."
Liu Han blinked, his aloof facade slipping. "What kind of offer?"
"I can upgrade your entire shelter," Zhao Yuan stated plainly, folding her hands over her lap. "I will expand your physical perimeter, build modern residential quarters to clear out those overcrowded streets, and supply a daily food quota straight from my establishment so no one in your compound starves again."
Liu Han's breath caught in his throat. It sounded like an impossible miracle, but having witnessed her restaurant materialize out of thin air, he knew she wasn't bluffing.
"That... that would save us," Liu Han stammered, his posture dropping all pretense of negotiation leverage. "What is your price?"
"Two non-negotiable conditions," Zhao Yuan declared, raising two slender fingers. "First, you will open your gates and absorb every displaced refugee wandering this regional sector. You will no longer turn away the weak or the empty-handed."
Liu Han swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. "Done. With expanded facilities and food, taking them in is no longer a burden."
"Second," she continued, her gaze turning cold and sharp, "your armed forces will become our perimeter labor. You will clear out every infectee, clean up the surrounding ruins, and secure the entire region within a five-mile radius of my restaurant. If my branch is disturbed again, the deal is void."
Realizing she was offering him total shelter security and boundless food in exchange for manual labor and humanitarian expansion, Liu Han didn't hesitate for a single second. He stood up, extending his hand once more with newfound, deep respect.
"We have a deal, Boss Zhao."
"Great!" Zhao Yuan said, leaning back into the leather chair. "Then we have an understanding of the terms."
Before Liu Han could even let out the breath of relief expanding in his chest, she raised a single, poised hand, her voice dropping into a tone of quiet, unshakeable authority.
"However, there is one final requirement. You will have to surrender senior administrative control of this shelter to me if you want me to upgrade your territory."
The words hung in the stale, muggy air of the office like a heavy anvil.
This morning, before leaving her quarters, Zhao Yuan had explicitly questioned the system on the parameters for expanding outside territories. The system's answer had been blunt: to alter, expand, or manifest resources within a third-party compound, she had to be formally registered as the primary Custodian of that land. She knew precisely how much absolute authority meant to a leader like Liu Han—especially a man who had bled, fought, and built a warlord state out of shattered concrete to secure his position at the top.
She felt no urge to rush him. Leaning back against the headrest, she folded her hands over her knee, calmly waiting as the silence in the room stretched thin.
Opposite her, Liu Han felt as if the oxygen had been violently sucked from his lungs. The warm enthusiasm on his face shattered, replaced by a dark, suffocating tension.
His eyes locked onto Zhao Yuan's calm, unbothered expression, then flicked to the towering figure of Tom standing motionless beside her like an immovable sentinel. The sheer pressure radiating from the pair made the air feel thick.
Give up senior control?
The thought burned in his mind like acid. He had built this shelter from nothing. He was the one who had organized the guards, rationed the moldy canned goods, executed mutineers, and kept hundreds of desperate people alive in a dying world. Handing over the master credentials meant stripping himself of his absolute power, placing his life, his men, and his shelter entirely at the mercy of a woman he barely knew. What if this was all an elaborate trap to disarm his faction and turn his people into slaves?
A vein throbbed violently at his temple as his fists clenched beneath the wooden desk, his knuckles turning white. His mind raced frantically, weighing his options.
If I refuse...
He looked at Zhao Yuan's immaculate white trousers, her pristine skin, and the sleek, high-tech vehicle parked outside his gates. She didn't need him. She had boundless food, spatial technology, and firepower that could effortlessly wipe his compound off the map if he pushed her. His shelter was already on the brink of collapse; their food reserves would run completely dry within three days, and his guards were already whispering about mutiny. Refusing her wasn't a show of strength—it was a delayed death sentence for everyone inside these walls.
He stared into Zhao Yuan's sharp, indifferent eyes, searching for a single trace of hesitation or bluffing. He found none. She was giving him a choice between pride and survival.
The silence in the office grew so heavy that even the faint ticking of the wall clock sounded like thunder. Sweat trickled down the back of Liu Han's neck, soaking into his collar. He closed his eyes, taking a long, ragged breath as the grim reality settled into his chest.
When his eyelids opened again, the defiance in his posture was gone, replaced by the heavy resignation of a man who knew he had been completely outmaneuvered.
"If I hand over senior control..." Liu Han's voice was low, raspy, and stripped of its former swagger. "What becomes of my position here?"
Zhao Yuan offered a slight, knowing smile, her tone remaining completely relaxed. "You remain the operational commander of your people. You handle daily disputes, manage your labor squads, and lead the perimeter clearings. But the shelter's master rules, territory expansions, and resource allocations belong to me."
Liu Han swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry as bone. He looked down at his dirty hands, then back at the pristine woman before him. Slowly, reluctantly, he bowed his head.
"I accept."