Chapter Sixty-Nine: What Type Do You Like?

Chapter Sixty-Nine

With Mochen's companionship, Mei's mood stabilized greatly; more importantly, the impact of negative emotions on her mental strength diminished. Now she could use her mental power during the day to control her feelings, rather than forcibly suppressing them.

Although she didn't know how long it would take to resolve her issues completely, Mochen had promised to stay by her side until everything was settled. Mei accepted his long-term presence in her room without hesitation, oblivious to the hesitant expressions of others, her mind focused solely on repaying Mochen someday.

He treated her so well; if she couldn't do something for him in return, it simply wouldn't be right!

Originally, the six of them planned to rest at the base for two days before heading out to tackle their third mission. But on the afternoon of the fourth day after their return, the sky once again turned gloomy.

"Is it going to rain again?"

Everyone looked up, recalling the rain that marked the beginning of the apocalypse. That rain not only accelerated the evolution of zombies but also caused mutations in animals and plants.

What would this new precipitation bring?

"No, it's not rain—it's snow! This time, there will be a massive snowfall lasting for half a month." Qu Wenjuan hadn't thought about the plot from the book for some time; had it not been for the sudden change in weather, she might have forgotten this episode.

In the book, the half-month-long snowstorm killed many ordinary people at the base who were unprepared. Because it happened so abruptly, the base's winter supplies were insufficient; had the heroine not brought out her reserve supplies from her spatial storage at a critical moment, the losses would have been devastating. This event won her considerable renown at the base and attracted many new followers.

However, the supplies they'd gathered from the dock included plenty of winter necessities, so this time, Xiao Keren probably wouldn't steal the spotlight.

"This snow will last half a month?" Lin Shaojie exclaimed, tongue-tied, then mused, "Juanjuan, could this blizzard freeze all the zombies to death?"

"Not only will the zombies survive, they'll use the snow as an opportunity to evolve again. Once the snow stops, there will be even more mutant zombies." Lin Shaojie's question pulled Qu Wenjuan's attention back to the snowfall; recalling the book's plot, she realized this snowstorm played a pivotal role.

The heroine's power grew, the Ye family rose again—both events took place after this blizzard.

She continued, "The snow not only spurs zombie evolution; afterward, the temperature will fluctuate wildly. It will swing between cold and hot, and there will be earthquakes, tsunamis, and other natural disasters. In short, humanity's situation will become even more precarious!"

Her words cast a somber mood over the group.

Some remained unfazed. Mei, glancing at the overcast sky, yawned and said, "If humanity is in trouble, so are the zombies. I don't believe earthquakes and tsunamis will discriminate, only harming people but sparing zombies. So it's not all bad, right? If zombies evolve, that's not a problem—I can collect more crystals. Ah Ye, don't forget your people still owe me crystals! Let them train during the snow, so they can slay zombies when it ends!"

Thinking of the crystals, Mei reminded Ye Jingxuan that his subordinates still had debts to settle.

"Don't worry, I won't forget." Ye Jingxuan ruffled her soft hair, lips curling in a faint smile.

Though Qu Wenjuan's account sounded frightening, Mei was right—zombie evolution would only become a stepping stone for their own advancement.

As for humanity's future, let others fret about it; he would only worry about those he cared for.

"What would you like to eat tonight?" With that in mind, Ye Jingxuan asked Mei about her dinner preferences.

Predictably, the mention of food made Mei perk up. After thinking it over, she said, "Since it's getting colder, why don't we have hotpot? The spicy kind—afterward, we'll feel so warm!"

"All right, I'll have it prepared." Ye Jingxuan agreed without hesitation, ignoring Mochen's disgruntled glare, and went to instruct the household staff to gather ingredients for hotpot.

The prospect of hotpot revived the room's atmosphere. Everyone chatted about what best to cook in hotpot and what’s the most satisfying winter fare; Mei's eyes sparkled, though she felt a pang of disappointment—some delicacies were now impossible to find in the apocalypse, and even if ingredients existed, skilled cooks were scarce.

If only she’d arrived in this world sooner—she could have enjoyed so many more delicious things!

Mochen noticed her wistful expression but was helpless; he couldn’t grant her that wish.

Knowing Mei was an orphan raised in a lab, deprived of good food, he understood her obsession with cuisine. The others, aside from feeling sympathetic, were similarly powerless; after all, cooking wasn’t everyone’s forte. They were proficient at eating, not at preparing.

"If we have recipes, and try a few times, we should be able to make something similar," offered An Zi You, the only one of the group somewhat skilled in cooking.

His words sparked realization among the others—indeed, with recipes, someone could surely recreate the dishes.

Mochen resolved to keep an eye out for such information in the future.

Mei pondered for a while, then pulled several books from her spatial storage and placed them on the table: "Xiao You, do you mean these?"

The group picked up the books, reading the titles: "100 Homemade Dishes," "Learn Home Cooking Easily," "Step-by-Step Guide to Making Pastries," and so on.

"Mei, how is it your spatial storage has everything? You can't even cook—why did you collect these books?" Lin Shaojie marveled at the variety of items Mei had at her disposal.

"I passed a bookstore and just took everything inside. I never really checked what I grabbed—had recipes not come up just now, I wouldn't have remembered!" Mei replied.

"You took an entire bookstore! Let me pick a couple of books, will you?" Lin Shaojie, excited by her explanation, hurriedly asked for his share.

"Go ahead!" Mei waved her hand, and stacks of books appeared on the living room floor.

The bookstore Mei had emptied was comprehensive, with every kind of book. Not only Lin Shaojie, but Mochen, An Zi You, and Qu Wenjuan all dove into the piles, searching for titles that piqued their interest.

Mei lounged on the sofa, munching potato chips as she watched them select books.

Compared to the others, she was more curious about the magazines Qu Wenjuan, another woman, picked. Seeing they were all fashion magazines, Mei leafed through them.

Every magazine was filled with male models—some refined, some wild, some gentle, some flamboyant, some aloof. Every type imaginable was represented.

"Juanjie, which type do you prefer?" Mei flipped through the pages, intrigued.

Qu Wenjuan glanced around, noting no one was paying attention, then moved beside Mei and whispered, "I like this type!"

She opened a magazine, pointing to a photo of a man. Mei looked, thinking his attempt at a domineering pose was unimpressive. But since it was Qu Wenjuan’s preference, she refrained from commenting, merely saying, "So you like this sort of man?"

"Isn't he great? Look at this one—so stylish! And this one has an air of world-weariness. This one looks very masculine, and here’s a sunny boy, this one’s an aloof beauty; honestly, I like them all." Seeing Mei’s apparent interest, Qu Wenjuan couldn’t help but elaborate.

Mei compared the descriptors to the men in the magazines, suddenly realizing, so that's what "aloof" and "sunny boy" mean.

"What about this one, Juanjie?" Mei pointed to a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, exuding a scholarly aura.

"This type? He looks gentle and harmless, but actually, these men are the most duplicitous. Look at his eyes—he's either scheming or sadistic. Do you like this kind?" Qu Wenjuan commented, then asked.

Scheming? Sadistic?

Mei was puzzled; she didn’t understand these terms. At Qu Wenjuan’s question, she shook her head.

"I don't have a particular type. As long as he's good-looking and we get along, I don’t dislike him. I’m just curious about this type—he reminds me of the doctor Xiao You played in 'Angels and Demons,' but this man’s expression is too forced. He lacks Xiao You’s acting skills!"

Hearing the girls discussing men, the men in the room couldn't help but listen. When Mei described her preferred type, Mochen and An Zi You paused, their expressions unreadable.

As long as he’s good-looking and they get along—she really isn’t picky!

Mochen didn’t dwell on the latter part, but An Zi You was visibly startled, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

Qu Wenjuan, delighted by Mei’s answer, finally felt the camaraderie of pre-transmigration girl talk. Her interest piqued, she said, "Good-looking, huh? Let me find one—ah, here! What do you think of this man? Handsome, right?"

She presented a photo she thought attractive.

"He's all right," Mei glanced once and lost interest.

"All right? Aren’t your standards too high? If a hundred is perfect, I’d rate him at least ninety!" Qu Wenjuan protested.

"Ninety? His nose isn't as nice as Ah Ye’s, his eyes aren’t as beautiful as Ah Chen’s, his face shape isn’t as good as Xiao You’s, and his smile isn’t as charming as Brother Jie’s—how could he be worth ninety?" Mei retorted, puzzled at Qu Wenjuan’s disagreement.

"You can’t compare them! The men in our team, except Lin Shaojie, are all exceptional. If you use them as benchmarks, there won’t be many handsome men left in the world! When judging men, you shouldn’t just focus on their flaws—you have to appreciate their strengths. You can’t expect everyone to be that, uh, perfect, right?" Qu Wenjuan explained earnestly.

If those few were the standard, most women in the world would be single forever!

Mei considered her words and saw the logic. She examined the magazine again and finally pointed to a spot, "His lines here are nice—what’s this called again? Oh, right, the 'mermaid line.' His mermaid line looks good!"

No sooner had she finished than there was a loud "thud"—a book had fallen to the floor.