Chapter 13: The Cannibalistic Hotpot Restaurant (Part Two)

【Mission accepted successfully. Please complete before dawn.】

Zhu Ning finished reading the "grave notice" when the page suddenly flickered, then displayed an address before self-destructing. No matter how she refreshed, the post was gone, completely erased without a trace.

She searched online using keywords, hoping to find more information, but only found a single post from thirty-two years ago praising that restaurant’s taste.

The information was too scarce. The system had said to complete the mission before dawn. It was now 12:06 a.m., and sunrise was at 6:02 a.m., so she had roughly six hours left.

She entered the address into her navigation app. Luckily, it was still searchable; otherwise, she wouldn’t even know where to go.

Before setting off, Zhu Ning stood in front of a crate of standard-issue weapons, pondering: what weapons would be suitable when going to eat hotpot?

In the end, she chose two guns, brought along two daggers, and still had explosives on her system panel capable of demolishing a thirty-story building.

Compared to last time facing the fishmen, at least she had enough firepower now. She put on her work uniform to avoid contamination by parasitic spores, finished with a helmet, and carried a full set of cleaning tools on her back.

Before leaving, she glanced at the mirror. Reflected was a woman dressed in a sleek biker suit, carrying a black backpack over a meter long. Her face was hidden by a black helmet made of high-tech material, emanating a cold, glinting aura.

Yes, very good—she looked like a criminal.

Zhu Ning lived in a slum known as the Hive, a densely populated area mostly inhabited by defective individuals. Since no one checked identities, there were probably other strange tenants as well.

She guessed her neighbors might be desperate fugitives or wanted criminals, especially since the black market store was right below her apartment.

Time was tight; Zhu Ning couldn’t afford to walk to the location. She had to pick a mode of transport. With her current outfit, if she took public flying vehicles, she’d be reported to the Cleaning Center instantly.

Outside the black market store stood a sleek, cool motorcycle. Zhu Ning’s eyes fixed on it immediately—the lines were smooth, the body perfect, like a crouching leopard. It fit her style perfectly, as if it bore her name.

The owner, a woman with big wavy hair, was smoking at the door, appraising Zhu Ning from head to toe, probably judging if she could afford it.

Now that Zhu Ning had some money, she felt confident. “Boss, how much for this bike?”

The woman replied, “Four million new credits.”

Zhu Ning: “…”

Great. Why couldn’t she afford a small motorcycle despite risking her life scavenging?

Quietly, Zhu Ning asked, “Rent?”

The owner flicked her ash and said, “No rentals.”

Zhu Ning lowered her voice, “Then...?”

“I’ll take you there,” the woman said. “Five hundred new credits per trip.”

That was acceptable. Zhu Ning’s confidence had already shrunk; no matter the weapons on her back, she felt like a meek lamb before the boss.

“Ready to go?” The owner stubbed out her cigarette.

“Let’s go.”

This conversation was starting to feel like hailing an illegal ride near a train station.

The boss glanced at the address Zhu Ning gave her. Zhu Ning was cautious and didn’t actually have her taken to the hotpot restaurant, but to a shop two streets away.

“Are you sure this is the place?” the boss asked.

“Positive.”

“You’re a clever girl.”

Zhu Ning looked down at the shop marked on the map. It was a duck-themed restaurant with a minimum consumption of 8,888 new credits—enough to sponsor one of their famous ducks.

Zhu Ning: “…”

She was just glad she wore the helmet. With the helmet on, no one cared who she was.

The boss didn’t say much, simply dropped Zhu Ning off at the duck shop’s door and left without a word, leaving only a trail of exhaust.

Zhu Ning stood beneath the pink “Noble Queen” sign, looking like a lost child abandoned by her parents.

A man stood at the entrance—probably the duck shop owner—leaning against the railing. He was slim, pale-skinned, and surprisingly handsome, like a young celebrity.

His eyes brightened when he saw Zhu Ning, and his first words were: “Wanna try?”

Just two simple words shattered the last of Zhu Ning’s confidence—her night had been eventful enough.

She wanted to casually ask about nearby hotpot restaurants, but seeing him dressed in a dark purple high-neck tight sweater, she hesitated.

Zhu Ning had survival skills for the apocalypse but no expertise dealing with duck shops. This guy was sharp; she feared she might get tricked.

“Thanks, I’m not here to spend money.” She squeezed the words out.

“Ah, no problem, just asking.” The man noticed the backpack Zhu Ning carried. Appearing masked and armored in the middle of the night with a backpack looked like a murderer.

He raised an eyebrow and said flatly, “Where are you headed? I can point you the way; the roads here are pretty confusing.”

All the shops around here were low-end, and the roads twisted and turned like a maze. Many got lost. This guy was surprisingly kind, even offering directions?

“I’m looking for a hotpot restaurant.”

“Hotpot?” The owner’s expression changed noticeably. “Good Luck?”

“What do you mean?” Zhu Ning asked.

He glanced at her, then leisurely said, “We all avoid that place. It’s said to be haunted. It closed down decades ago, but every time you pass by, you still smell hotpot broth. It’s really strange.”

Zhu Ning frowned. Her research showed the restaurant had shut down thirty years ago, yet there was still hotpot aroma?

“Very eerie. There’s also a strange meat scent—can’t tell what kind. Definitely not pork, beef, or lamb. Many say it’s human meat. I don’t know if it’s true.”

Zhu Ning: “?”

Human meat hotpot?

She asked, “Why did the restaurant close?”

“I just heard,” he said. “Many shops in this area open and close quickly. This one lasted the longest. It used to be super popular—you had to wait three hours to get a table. Then the owner got sick, couldn’t keep it running, and didn’t want to sell. So he just shut the place down to focus on treatment.”

“Sick? What kind of illness?” Zhu Ning asked.

“No idea. Such a pity—a place so popular, just vanished.”

Zhu Ning pondered. Something wasn’t right. Medical care in the wasteland was extremely expensive. If the owner was ill and needed money, why not sell?

A thriving hotpot restaurant would have plenty of buyers lining up. So this owner must have been wealthy enough to just close up shop?

She asked, “Are there still people inside?”

“No way.” The man laughed. “It’s been thirty years, sis—that’s a dead place. If someone was still living there...”

He paused, eyes darkening as he looked at Zhu Ning. “Tell me, do you think it’s people or ghosts?”

That made sense. Why would the system send her to rescue survivors from a place closed for thirty years? Could anyone living in a contaminated zone for that long still be human?

If not human, then why would the system assign Zhu Ning to rescue them?

This system had to be good—it aimed to purify polluted lands and save humanity’s home. It wouldn’t ask her to do dirty work.

Zhu Ning asked, “Are the doors still open?”

“Funny you ask. I passed by once and saw the door bricked up—don’t know who did it, maybe to keep people out.”

Zhu Ning thought about it; if it was still open, it would have been shut down officially.

“Why are you going there?” he asked, suspicion growing.

“Can’t say.”

The man: “?”

After so many years on the streets, he’d seen every kind of trick. At least she should make up a lie. What was this “can’t say”?

“Alright, I won’t pry. Here’s the way: at the next intersection, turn right, then right again, then right a third time. If you really get lost, just follow the smell.”

“Hope to see you again tomorrow.”

Zhu Ning, still memorizing the route: “...Thanks for the blessing.”

She left the Noble Queen shop and followed his directions to another street. It was desolate—no one around. A bold warning sign stood prominently: “This area ahead is contaminated. Please detour.”

Zhu Ning was stubborn and crossed the quarantine line. She found the hotpot restaurant easily. The duck shop owner was right—it smelled amazing.

The beef tallow hotpot mixed with a strange meat aroma—her brain recognized it as meat but couldn’t identify which kind.

Inappropriately hungry at midnight, she thought.

Half the hotpot shop was sunken underground, probably because the owner couldn’t afford street-level rent and settled for a basement location.

From Zhu Ning’s previous scavenging experience, this was a classic “fly-by-night” restaurant—when it was open, it must have been excellent.

The neon hotpot sign was still lit, though flickering weakly from a short circuit. The two characters for “hotpot” kept flashing on and off.

Below was a small line of text: “Open 24 hours.”

Before venturing inside to her possible doom, Zhu Ning wanted to add a layer of insurance.

She needed someone to know she’d entered a contaminated area. Even if she failed, the Cleaning Center would respond promptly to contain the spores and prevent wider contamination.

She thought for a moment and found Li Nianchuan’s contact. The employee wristband automatically displayed staff status.

Next to Li Nianchuan’s name, small text read: “Mental contamination, hospitalized.”

Since they were colleagues, Zhu Ning decided to check in. She sent a message: “Are you okay?”

No reply came for a while. Zhu Ning guessed he was in medical isolation without communication. About a minute later, she received a message: “Sister! Woof!”

Zhu Ning: “...”

That “woof” left her awkwardly biting her toes. Young man, when your mental contamination clears, you’ll regret this chat history.

Li Nianchuan hadn’t seen Zhu Ning’s message and sent a plaintive emoji.

Zhu Ning braced herself and chatted back: “Your contamination isn’t cured yet?”

“They took a lot of my blood and gave me many injections,” he replied with a crying emoji.

Was this a call for sympathy?

Li Nianchuan: “Can you send me a gift?”

Zhu Ning: “What?”

Li Nianchuan: “I want a pair of burning wings.”