Ryan returned swiftly, leaping from the car and carefully carrying a frail two-year-old girl in his arms.
Following him, a fair-skinned woman stepped out, shivering as the cold bit into her. She quickly clutched at her loose neckline, pulling it tight, while her curious eyes roved over her surroundings.
Before her stood a picturesque villa, its green tiles and stone walls aglow with warm, inviting light.
Her gaze lingered, and her expression froze in disbelief.
Since the apocalypse began, she could no longer recall the last time she had seen light—much less the brilliance of a well-lit home.
It was as though a lost traveler in a dark abyss had stumbled upon the dawn.
"Betty, don't just stand there. Come inside!"
Ryan called out, his voice tinged with pride as he cradled the child. Seeing the woman's astonishment filled him with a peculiar satisfaction.
Men, at their core, remain boys who wish to dazzle the women they love, hoping to hear the words, "Wow, you're amazing!" Such trivial praise, devoid of substance, has driven countless men to give their all, willingly and joyfully.
Betty snapped out of her daze, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Ryan with admiration.
"Ryan, I can't believe you can afford such a grand house."
"This…"
Ryan hesitated briefly, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face.
"I don't live here. I stay outside…"
He gestured toward a small, twenty-square-meter storage room.
"Ah… I see…"
The light in Betty's eyes dimmed noticeably, her initial excitement vanishing like mist under the sun.
Ryan noticed her disappointment and felt a twinge of annoyance. Yet, he forced a smile and coaxed,
"Come inside, Betty. It's warm in here—you won't want to leave once you're in."
"Alright, I'm coming."
Betty quickly masked her earlier reaction and followed Ryan into the villa with a smile.
As expected, the moment she entered, she was stunned into silence.
The villa was warm and radiant, equipped with modern amenities, even boasting a bath and a proper restroom.
What shocked her the most, however, was the spread of food laid out on the table—biscuits, snacks, and packaged meats.
While these were ordinary items in the pre-apocalyptic world, they now held immeasurable value. Many would die without ever tasting another hot meal.
Ignoring Ryan's unspoken hesitation, Betty pounced on the food like a ravenous wolf. She tore open a roasted chicken, devouring it with abandon.
But that wasn't enough—she tore into other packages as she ate, as though desperate to consume and claim every bite before it could disappear.
Ryan initially wanted to caution her to cherish the food. But after a moment's thought, he reasoned she must have been starving for far too long, unable to restrain herself when faced with such abundance.
He gently placed the child on a bed, feeding her a small amount of soy milk and bread. Gradually, color returned to the girl's cheeks.
Satisfied, Ryan picked up his walkie-talkie and called,
"Miles… We're back. Can you and Lisa come down? The child needs a doctor."
Hearing this, Betty hurriedly joined in, her voice garbled from the food in her mouth.
"Yes, please, save her! She's been feverish for days…"
She wore an expression of maternal despair, tears streaking her face like a grieving mother pleading for her child.
Yet moments ago, while gorging herself, she had shown no regard for her daughter's plight.
Miles arrived shortly with Lisa, his wariness of potential threats within the neighborhood easing over time.
The moment he stepped into the storage room, his sharp eyes immediately caught sight of Betty, still engrossed in her gluttonous feast.
Lisa offered a gentle reminder,
"Ma'am, please slow down. After prolonged hunger, overeating can harm your stomach."
"Huh…?"
Betty finally turned her head.
She was met with the sight of a handsome man and a stunningly beautiful woman.
Their fine attire and Lisa's poised demeanor quickly made Betty realize these two were likely the owners of this haven.
She hastily stood, tears streaming as she bowed deeply.
"Thank you! Thank you for taking us in… If not for your kindness, my daughter and I would've surely starved to death. Thank you so much!"
Her words seemed sincere, but they carried a subtle undertone—a calculated assumption.
What did she mean by "taking us in"?
Ryan had merely asked for Lisa's help to treat the child; he hadn't mentioned anything about giving them refuge.
Miles had expected Ryan to eventually plead their case, but Betty had preempted him, framing her stay as a foregone conclusion.
Clearly, this woman was no fool.
Even Ryan seemed flustered, scratching his head awkwardly.
"Betty, don't say that yet. I haven't even spoken to Miles about it. This is his home—you need his permission."
Turning to Miles with an embarrassed smile, Ryan added,
"This is Betty, my first love. She used to live in the southern district. We… happened to meet again today."
Miles nodded slightly, offering a noncommittal hum.
Lisa, however, cast a fleeting glance at Betty, her irritation thinly veiled.
This woman was calculating, her every move deliberate.
Lisa shifted her attention to the child, pulling out a medical kit and conducting a thorough examination. Frowning, she said,
"The child's breathing is weak—likely due to damaged lungs. We need to prepare a sterile environment for a full diagnosis."
"What? I thought she was just hungry or caught a cold," Betty stammered, clearly at a loss.
"In these conditions, where could we possibly find a proper sickroom?"
Lisa set down her stethoscope with a grave expression.
"A cold can manifest in many forms, but this is serious. Without immediate treatment, the child may not survive."
She knew Miles had an abundance of medical equipment in his spatial storage, including advanced CT machines. Transforming part of the villa into a makeshift hospital was entirely feasible.
But Miles remained silent, his gaze steady as he observed Betty's reaction.
Betty hesitated, her eyes darting from her daughter to Ryan.
Ryan's resolve crumbled under her anguished gaze. He turned to Lisa with a desperate plea,
"Please, Doctor, do everything you can. She's just a child—it would be such a tragedy to lose her."
It was clear Ryan deeply cared for Betty, so much so that he was willing to play the role of a substitute father, treating her daughter as his own.
Lisa sighed, nodding gently.
"I'll do my best. But she needs immediate care, or…"
She glanced at Miles, but his subtle shake of the head cut her short.
Lisa bit her lip, understanding that without Miles' consent, her efforts would be futile.
Betty, now utterly panicked, whimpered,
"But where could we find such equipment? Maybe she could recover with some medicine?"
Her reluctance to leave the warmth of the villa was written all over her face.