Reborn as the Doomsday Tycoon: My Zombie Apocalypse Harem

Xiao Yang chuckled, "Alright, done teasing. I'm hitting the shower. Make yourself at home – eat when hungry, drink when thirsty."

Steam still curled in the bathroom. The lingering humidity carried traces of Mu Wanqing's recent bath, sending an electric tingle down his spine. After a satisfying scrub, he materialized silk pajamas from his spatial storage – deliberately choosing a set mirroring the dove-gray negligee she wore, creating accidental couple-wear.

Emerging in the living room, he found her silhouetted against frost-whorled windows. The rustle of fabric made her turn. Her breath caught. The matching sleepwear? Surely intentional. Yet she couldn't deny how the dove-gray silk clung to his lean frame. At 180cm with symmetrical proportions and sharp features reminiscent of idol dramas' male leads, he embodied her exact aesthetic preferences. Had he been some paunchy middle-aged client of her brother's, no invitation would've lured her here.

"Penny for those thoughts?" Xiao Yang pulled out a dining chair, its legs scraping softly.

She settled across from him, moonlight catching her smile. "Grateful. While others freeze..." Her fingertip traced condensation on her glass. "...I'm warm. Fed." The admission hung between them like mist.

"Drop the 'Director Xiao' formalities." He uncorked Bordeaux, ruby liquid swirling. "Call me Brother Xiao."

"Brother Xiao?" Her nose wrinkled in mock distaste. "Then I'm just Wanqing."

Glasses clinked. "To survival, Wanqing."

Outside, gales screamed through skeletal trees, rattling windowpanes. Across the villa complex, emergency lights bloomed as sudden hypothermia shocked residents awake. University dorms echoed with panicked shrieks below the mountain. Citywide, collision alarms wailed – initial migraine-inducing headaches had caused countless pileups before the frost descended. Emergency lines melted under distress calls. Those caught outdoors froze mid-step, car heaters proving useless against supernatural cold.

As midnight bled into predawn hours, their conversation deepened. Xiao Yang learned how Wanqing's parents perished in a factory fire when she was six, how her brother Mu Guang abandoned education to raise her, sacrificing marriage prospects. Her academic brilliance became their shared redemption – turning down countless suitors to focus on scholarships.

In turn, he confessed his family's betrayal: embezzlement accusations that exiled him from the Xiao conglomerate.

"Brother Xiao..." Wanqing's fingers brushed his wrist as wind howled its approval.

Near 5 AM, he restocked the basement furnace with coal briquettes, their metallic clang underscoring the cold's assault. Escorting her to the third-floor guest suite adjacent to his master bedroom, he triple-checked window seals. "Need anything, just knock." His knuckle rapped the shared wall.

Her cheeks flushed cherry-red.

Dawn found Xiao Yang downloading 3D maps of Haicheng and the mountainous southwest stronghold. His last conscious thought: Spatial storage's canned hotpots would need strategic deployment.

Noon

Knuckles drummed mahogany. "Brother Xiao? I made... noodles."

He blinked awake to find Wanqing hovering, apron dusted with flour. The kitchen revealed comedic disaster – eggshells in the sink, lopsided dumplings, but two steaming bowls presentable enough.

"Wanqing." He produced Sichuan peppercorn broth cubes with magician's flair. "Let's turn this into hotpot."

Her gasp echoed through the villa. Soon, the oak table vanished under platters: paper-thin lamb curls, emerald bok choy, quail eggs like ivory pearls. Amber beer met her peach nectar in a celebratory clash.

"To fire in ice!" Their toast shook the chandelier as the apocalyptic wind screamed its envy outside.