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“If you pass the scene of a car accident, don’t stare.”

“If someone tries to hitch a ride at midnight, don’t stop unless you have to.”

“And don’t think driving a big rig makes you so intimidating that trouble won’t come looking for you.”

Those were the warnings my Master gave me.

For more than ten years, I kept them close to heart.

But tonight, I made an exception.

At midnight, I came across a family of four trying to flag me down.

The moment the husband saw my headlights, he dropped to his knees at the roadside and kept kowtowing.

Their black sedan was sitting crookedly off to the side, as if it had broken down.

All four of them looked badly shaken. I let them climb into my truck.

Pale with fear, the husband told me that a strange red sports car had been chasing them along the mountain road just moments ago.

I told him not to worry. I was driving a heavy truck; no car would dare mess with me.

Just then, the radio began reporting a traffic accident. On the very stretch of mountain road we were driving along, a red sports car and a black sedan had been involved in a serious crash.

The driver of the red sports car had died at the scene.

At a construction site, five coffins were dug up-four with something inside, one empty. Strange things kept happening at the site.

In less than three days, two workers had already been sent to the hospital.

Someone had asked me to go there and haul the coffins away.

But the expert the site had hired kept blocking me at every turn, refusing to let me move them.

With a dark, sinister look, he told me: “These five coffins can’t be moved by anyone within seven days. Whoever moves them will be the one buried inside.”

A new junior sister arrived at the Demon-Slaying Bureau.

She was astonishingly talented, with an ethereal beauty that seemed untouched by the mortal world.

Everyone adored her.

Everyone said she was far better than me, her senior sister.

But what I saw was the Red Thread of her fate, tangled beyond repair, every strand of it tied to me.

Later, when my junior sister was wounded by a demon, she chose my fiancé to help purge the poison.

So I threw a demon in with her.

“Trust me, he won’t cut it. This one’s better. Guaranteed to purge the poison.”

When my junior sister came out, she drove her sword straight at me. I let out a soft laugh and caught her blade.

“That’s more like it. Now you finally look like a demon slayer.”

After winning the war, I entered the capital, and the Old Emperor asked what reward I wanted.

I pointed at the handsome man in purple robes and a golden belt standing in the hall. “I beg Your Majesty to grant me a marriage. I am carrying his child, and he promised he would marry me!”

The elderly eunuch beside the emperor hurriedly tried to stop me. “General, mind your words. This is the Second Prince.”

A faint, languid voice sounded behind me. “Whose child are you carrying?

“Isn’t your belly full of roast duck, roast chicken, candied hawthorn, red bean pastries, dried sweet potatoes…”

I turned to look, only to find that the handsome man who had just spoken looked exactly like the Second Prince.

I made a split-second decision and cupped my fists toward His Majesty. “If that one won’t marry me, this one will do!”

The elderly eunuch was beside himself with panic. “My dear ancestor, this is the Crown Prince!”

Noble Consort Qin was a peerless beauty, alluring enough to make the emperor cast aside his first wife and depose his legitimate son.

With tender eyes, Noble Consort Qin murmured, “His Majesty and I were joined as husband and wife in our youth. We are as devoted as a pair of mandarin ducks…”

Emperor Gaozu, inveterate male chauvinist: “Lady Qin is a mere concubine. How could she possibly have been joined to Us in our youth?”

“Throw this insolent wretch into the cold palace at once-and bring Us five hundred jin of memorials!”

◆ Male-chauvinist emperors with a single-minded devotion to a rich nation and a powerful army ◆

◆ We have no need of love. We want GDP! ◆

Notes:

1. This is a male-lead story in a fictional setting, and an unconventional quick-transmigration novel told through feudal monarchs who enter romance stories.

2. The emperors are written as typical rulers of feudal eras. They care only about raising GDP and have no time for romance. And yes, they truly are male chauvinists. Emphasis very much intended.

3. This is a wish-fulfillment story hostile to the pampered-concubine trope, with face-slapping and scum getting what they deserve. The emperors’ values do not represent the author’s. Please do not derail the discussion.

4. The direction and pace of the plot are entirely the author’s decision, and the author reserves the final right of interpretation.

Before the zombie virus broke out, I could barely lift a thing.

After the apocalypse hit, I was taking out zombies with a single swing.

When that two-faced bitch threatened me, I had one answer: Then we die together.

The rich playboy offered to treat me to dinner.

Under his guidance, I ordered a lavish feast for ten: king crab, lobster, precious French caviar, the works.

Then he gave me a malicious smile.

“Baby, if you can’t finish all this, you’ll have to pay for it yourself, you know.”

He thought I didn’t know about the livestream camera on his chest, where the chat was flooding with mockery aimed at me.

“Shocked now, aren’t ya? This meal costs 680,000 yuan total. Where’s a broke girl like you gonna find that kind of money?”

“Did you see how greedy she looked when she ordered? I’m dying laughing.”

“Did she really think it’d be that easy to take advantage of a rich guy?”

“Gold Digger Hunting Squad scores again! Bros, share the stream so we can enjoy the show!”

In the spotlight of the livestream, I didn’t panic like they imagined. I simply picked up my knife and fork, flashed a pair of playful little fangs, and smiled.

Hunting?

As an ancient beast famed for its appetite, I’ve always been fond of a certain human saying.

The most skilled hunters often appear as prey.

Crossed-inspired (but toned down; mere skin exposure does not cause infection) / apocalypse / strong female lead / survival / pseudo-ensemble cast / alternate world / no romance / no supernatural abilities / dark fiction / not a power fantasy / no easy victories / everyone suffers / desperate survival. The female lead is not the decisive, ruthless type. She is emotionally sensitive and suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.

In her previous life, Qingshui had fought tooth and nail to survive the apocalypse. When zombies overran the base, she risked everything to escort the base’s sole surviving researcher onto a plane, only to die in the jaws of the undead herself.

She thought that was the end of her life. Instead, in the blink of an eye, she was reborn into a vibrant world she had never seen before. There were no zombies here. No starvation. No bloodshed or chaos.

During her first year here, she even thought she had arrived in the paradise Aunt Chen used to talk about, despite the many classes she could not understand.

Just as she was finally beginning to accept her new life, the dream shattered…

In the middle of an unexpected exam, a piercing scream rang out from the classroom next door, awakening Qingshui’s long-honed survival instincts. Ignoring everyone else’s warnings, she grabbed the Dorm Leader and insisted they run back to their dorm.

Severed limbs littered their path, and the stench of blood filled the air. In mere moments, the entire campus became a living hell.

These creatures were even more terrifying than zombies. They tore people apart and devoured them alive, tormenting their victims for sheer amusement. Anyone caught by them would be better off dead.

And in this world gone mad, Qingshui will have to find a way to survive!

Because I was beautiful, my foster father adopted me.

Because I was strong, he gave me to the Ninth Prince.

Unfortunately, the very next day, the Ninth Prince was thrown into the Imperial Prison for treason.

I asked the Ninth Prince if he wanted to break out.

The Ninth Prince looked utterly despondent. “The iron prison has layer upon layer of bars. Even with wings, there would be no escape.”

That very night, the Imperial Prison was razed to the ground. The Ninth Prince vanished without wings, disappearing from the capital.

In the twelfth year of her political marriage, Lu Zhuohua’s husband slaps her for the sake of his newest concubine—and the formidable marchioness answers by smashing a bench over his head.

What first looks like another petty battle in a crowded noble household soon exposes a plot involving a staged miscarriage, a powerful young heiress, and a poison meant for Zhuohua and her little daughter.

With her family, her fighters, and twelve years of household authority behind her, Zhuohua decides that if her husband wants her dead, she will simply strike first.