Apocalyptic Era: Starting from picking up a Bishoujo

However, I probably also harbored some expectation that such an accident would occur. Being let off so smoothly would have been too dull; if only the official forces could have caught onto my trail and come knocking.

Under the influence of a mix of emotions, I took another two steps forward and leaned in to observe the girl's sleeping face.

The accident happened.

The girl suddenly opened her eyes, and the arm hidden under the blanket shot out like lightning, grabbing my collar.

At the same time, her body flipped up from the bed like a hunting beast, combining the strength of her wrist and weight to disrupt my already unstable balance.

I struggled reflexively, but to no avail; instead, she might have used some judo technique or something else to leverage my own power. For a moment, I didn't even know how to describe the process; I just felt my vision spinning, and a strong impact slamming hard against my torso.

It was only when I came to my senses that I realized I was pinned down on the floor, with all my limbs locked.

Although this was an unexpected attack, I hadn't expected a girl of her age to suppress me to this extent. Had she been pretending to sleep all along? Was she truly not an ordinary person? I couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement.

After executing that splendid wrestling move, she neither spoke nor made further moves, just pressed her whole body against my back, panting heavily by my ear.

"Are you awake?" I initiated the conversation, awaiting her response.

After a while, she finally spoke.

"Who are you?" Her voice was sweet and youthful, yet carried an overtly intimidating tone, "What is this place? Why am I here? If you don't want to suffer, answer me immediately."

"My name is Zhuang Cheng, and this is my home." This question wasn't beyond my expectations, and I answered frankly and succinctly, "I found you last night, bloodied and collapsed at a nearby abandoned construction site, so I brought you home."

"I don't understand." She continued to maintain a highly alert posture, also asking with confusion, "What do you mean by 'so I brought you home'... Is there any correlation?"

"Didn't you tell me 'not to call the police'?" I answered patiently, "Surely I couldn't just leave you out there, right? What if some ulterior-motived vagrant happened by?"

"Is that so? But..."

She took a deep breath, then raised her body off my back, freeing a hand, seemingly feeling around her body. Was she checking if I had violated her body while she was unconscious?

No, it was more likely she was searching for any firearm she might be carrying.

She was probably still very weak; suddenly, her body lost balance, almost falling over.

Seizing the opportunity instantly, I quickly freed my locked left hand, swiftly pulled out the handgun hidden at my lower back, and without looking back, pressed the barrel against her torso.

"Is this what you were looking for?"

Upon hearing this, her body instantly stiffened.

Score one for me!

I was thoroughly pleased with my more than optimal performance—could this scene be included in an action movie?

True to my robust self in contrast, her condition was poor, noticeably unable to detect the handgun hidden at my lower back even though she was pressing down on me. From her initial strategy and demeanor, I sensed a vibe as experienced and sharp as that of a warrior, but a normal warrior wouldn't make this kind of mistake, right? So, she wasn't in a normal state now... Could I take it that way?

Maybe her unscathed appearance was just superficial, perhaps the real damage was internal?

"Turnabout is fair play, now it's your turn to answer my questions." To avoid letting her perceive my heightened emotions, I spoke as calmly as possible, "Who are you, and where do you come from?"

"Do you think you're winning like this?"

Clearly, my unexpected counterattack neither intimidated her nor quelled her fighting spirit.

Simply this couldn't count as my victory. The incident happened so suddenly, I hadn't yet had the chance to unlock the safety on the handgun. Moreover, even if I had unlocked it, it wouldn't be wise to open fire in a residential area. More importantly, I genuinely didn't want to shoot her.

However, she didn't know the safety on the gun was currently engaged.

Wasn't she afraid of live ammunition?

"You wouldn't also want to escalate things here." I didn't plan on falling behind in our verbal sparring, "Get off me first."

"I refuse." Her response was immediate and bristling, "Right now..."

Thud, thud, thud.

At that moment, the sound of knocking came from the entrance.

We both shut our mouths.

"Is anyone home?" A stranger's voice called from outside.

Who could it be, a delivery person? Did I have any pending deliveries?

"I'll go send whoever it is away," I said, twisting my neck to speak to the girl.

"No." She immediately refused, "What if..."

"Or I could start shouting right now, or even open fire."

Hearing this bluff, she fell silent, seemingly weighing the pros and cons, or perhaps gauging the reality of my threat.

Quickly, she released me and took a step back proactively, standing on the bed like a wary wild animal, overlooking from a higher position.

I immediately got up from the floor, grabbed a T-shirt from the closet, and left the bedroom with the door shut behind me. My clothes had gotten bloodied from our close contact just now; as I moved towards the entrance, I swiftly changed my top, shouting "Coming, coming," while wrapping the handgun in the dirty clothes and casually hiding it behind the sofa.

Reaching the entrance, I opened the door and saw who was standing outside.

My heart nearly skipped a beat.

It was a grim-faced, mature-looking police officer.

"What is it?" I consciously controlled my facial muscles.

"Sorry to bother you, I am a police officer, currently looking for a fugitive serial killer." He first showed me his credentials, then took out a photo, "If you have seen this face around here, please provide any information."

I took the photo, looking down. It was a mugshot. Just a glance, and I felt like I was about to have a heart attack.

The "fugitive serial killer" in the photo was unmistakenly the girl I was hiding in the bedroom.