Chapter 45: Feast of Kings

The villa's geothermal floors hummed beneath Tang Ying's bare feet as she stared at the clawfoot tub. Steam curled from rose-scented water—real roses, petals floating like something from a dead civilization's Instagram.

"Captain Tang?" Mu Wanqing leaned in, tactical knife still strapped to her thigh despite silk pajamas. "Shampoo's hempseed oil, conditioner's argan. Don't mix them up."

Tang Ying's calloused fingers trembled on the bathrobe tie. Twenty days of fighting through corpse-choked streets hadn't broken her. This? This luxury felt like surrender.

——

Downstairs, Xiao Yang dumped a live king crab into the industrial sink. Its spiked legs scraped stainless steel—shink-shink-shink, a sound Li Yang's skull might've made against pavement.

"Feeding her like this?" Lu You brandished a cleaver at the crab's thrashing bulk. "Might as well propose with a diamond mine."

"She's worth ten diamond mines." Xiao Yang grinned, bloodstone ring glowing faintly as he palmed a black truffle. "Plus, watching her choke on gratitude amuses me."

The dining table groaned under glazed abalone and butter-poached lobster tails. Yang Yang the K9 whined at coal-black wings blocking his view—Mei Qiu the crow perched on the chandelier, beady eyes tracking every morsel.

"Mine," the bird rasped in perfect Mandarin, dropping a crab claw onto the shepherd's nose.

Tang Ying entered barefoot, damp hair revealing a scar along her hairline. Xiao Yang's borrowed pajamas stretched taut across her shoulders—SWAT training carved muscle no silk could soften.

"Eat." He shoved a champagne flute into her hand. "Before the ice sculptures melt."

She froze at the centerpiece—a frozen swan with eyes of beluga caviar. "This…is obscene."

"Obscenity's the new patriotism." Xiao Yang cracked a lobster tail with his bare hands, juice spraying his cheek. "Try the uni. Flew it in from Hokkaido pre-collapse."

Across town, Li Yang gnawed frostbitten fingers behind a burning dumpster. Thermal imaging from Xiao Yang's villa flickered on his dead partner's phone—smuggled into the RV earlier.

"Bastards…eating sashimi…" He zoomed in on Tang Ying's laughter, the way her throat moved as she swallowed gold-leafed champagne. Rage crystallized sharper than the -20°C air.

A rat carcass thawed in his lap. He bit into cold guts, imagining caviar.

Back at the feast, Mei Qiu dive-bombed Yang Yang's stolen crab leg. The shepherd lunged—

CRASH!

The Ming-dynasty vase shattered.

Silence.

Xiao Yang tossed a truffle slice toward the mess. "Fetch."

Both animals scrambled.

Tang Ying's laugh burst out—raw, unguarded. For three seconds, she forgot the apocalypse.

Xiao Yang's ring pulsed warmer. Gotcha.

"Another toast!" He raised his glass, eyes locked on her collarbone where pajamas gaped. "To new…alliances."

Ice swan tears dripped onto caviar as crystal clinked. Outside, the crow and K9 tore into truffle-laced porcelain shards.

Li Yang's frozen scream echoed through the smoke.