By the time Nan Muran finished her tasks, she was nearly an hour late from her usual departure time to the Nan family villa.

She wasn’t the least bit bothered—what that five-person family wanted to do today was important to them, and they’d surely have the patience to wait for her.

Before leaving, Nan Muran first called a cleaning service to tidy up her bedroom.

It wasn’t until she came downstairs that she noticed night had already fallen. On the drive back to the villa, she suddenly remembered—the villa the Nan family was staying in was still under her name.

The ever-polite security guard recognized her immediately and opened the gate. Her car drove directly into the villa complex. Not far from the Nan villa, the small sprig resting on her wrist—Xiao Liu—suddenly lifted its head and gently tapped her hand.

Xiao Liu was a level-seven mutated plant with human-like intelligence. It could communicate with plants within a fifteen-mile radius and was familiar with the Nan family.

So Nan Muran instantly understood—something was happening at the villa.

She parked by the roadside and glanced around. Then she slipped onto a nearby pedestrian path and circled around to the back of the villa.

Gathering her mental power, she easily unlocked the back door.

Tank, who had just had a full meal, noticed a figure entering and instinctively prepared to bark a warning. But then he heard a familiar command:
“Tank, stay.”

Recognizing her voice, Tank was visibly delighted. He got up swiftly and sat down obediently.

Tank was a purebred German Shepherd that Nan Muran had raised. After more than four years apart, she rushed forward and hugged him tightly, her voice choked with emotion.
“Tank, it’s been so long. I missed you.”

In her past life, during the first year of the apocalypse, Tank died protecting her from mutated plants.

What made it worse was that the Nan family later dug up his body and ate it behind her back.

She didn’t learn about this until the very end—after they had drained her of all usefulness. It was Nan Muting who casually revealed it. Nan Muran had been so furious, she coughed up blood. But she hadn’t had the strength to get revenge—for either herself or Tank.

Sensing her sorrow, Tank whimpered softly in her arms.

She cupped his head and lowered her voice.
“You recognized my car, didn’t you?”

Tank tilted his head cutely and blinked—despite being a large and imposing dog, he looked almost silly. But Nan Muran knew he understood.

“I’ll undo your leash now. Don’t make a sound. Take the path, open the car door yourself, and wait inside for me, okay?” Nan Muran didn’t intend to let the Nan family know she’d taken Tank—no need to invite unnecessary drama.

She lived in a high-rise apartment inside a pet-restricted zone, and couldn’t legally register Tank. So, she had left him at the villa, hoping they’d treat him well.

She used to naively believe they would. But now she knew—if they were willing to scheme against her, how well could they possibly treat her dog?

Tank’s eyes lit up. Was his master finally taking him away from these awful people?

Once freed from the leash, he understood it was real. After licking her hand, he took off toward the path without looking back.

Seeing that he’d gone the right way, Nan Muran stood up and moved closer to the back of the villa.

Suddenly, a woman’s suppressed moan and a man’s heavy breathing reached her ears. She stopped in surprise. Judging from the direction, the sounds were coming from the room that used to be hers—on the first floor.

A few steps closer, and the voices became clearer.

“Don’t touch me like that, gege, I’ll end up crying out loud…” It was Nan Muting. Though she was saying no, her voice was sticky and seductive.

“Then go ahead and cry out. Your voice is the prettiest,” came the man’s reply—Nan Muran recognized it. It was her fiancé, Qi Li.

Nan Muting complained sweetly, “My family’s all out there in the living room…”

“They already know about us. What’s the point of pretending?” Qi Li said casually.

Nan Muran froze outside. So the two of them had gotten together this early—and she was the only one kept in the dark? But then why hadn’t the Nan family ever mentioned the Qi family in her previous life? Was there more to it?

Then came the sound of clothes being torn.

“You’re Muran’s fiancé. Why don’t you go find her instead of torturing me like this…” Nan Muting said in a soft, breathless voice, feigning grievance.

“Shut up. Don’t mention her right now.” Qi Li snapped. A loud slap followed.

Nan Muran was disgusted. So much for his refined, upright image—Qi Li was nothing but a scumbag.

A woman’s moan followed, then the sound of a body falling heavily onto the bed. The room filled with intimate, ambiguous noises.

If this had been the pre-apocalypse Nan Muran, discovering her fiancé and cousin betraying her like this would’ve crushed her. She would’ve been heartbroken and sobbing uncontrollably.

But the current Nan Muran only felt revulsion. Not a ripple of pain inside.

Still, the fact that they were doing that in her bedroom did leave her feeling a little unwell.

She silently decided—this villa had to go. She’d sell it.

She moved closer to the back door, where the voices from the living room were clear.

“Why hasn’t that wretched girl come back yet? She’s making our whole family wait for her, acting like she’s some kind of princess,” a sharp, shrill woman’s voice rang out. Nan Muran didn’t even have to look to know how nasty her expression was.

Her aunt. Nan Muran sneered.

If Xiao Liu hadn’t warned her, she really wouldn’t have seen this side of them today.

Thinking about her aunt’s past ridicule during the apocalypse, and the way they once offered her up to strangers for scraps of food—how they drained every last drop of value from her—Nan Muran’s mental power surged uncontrollably. But the villa remained silent.

(“There’s more to this chapter! Click next page to continue reading. It only gets better!”)

…Okay, she was too far—the mental power didn’t reach.

Meanwhile, her cousin Nan Mufeng, playing on his phone, reminded,
“Mom, don’t complain so loudly. What if someone hears?”

“We’re at home. Who could hear us?” Aunt snapped, though she did lower her voice.

“Don’t forget, Muran’s about to graduate from college. According to Uncle and Auntie’s will, she inherits thirty percent of Nanqiao Group’s shares.”
This was from Nan Muran’s eldest uncle, Nan Ping. His voice held unconcealed resentment.

At this, her aunt’s brows lifted. “We’ve never treated her poorly all these years. What more does she want?”

“Mom, the problem is—Muran’s grown up now. She can inherit Nanqiao shares. The board will probably want her to replace Dad. If she doesn’t step back, Dad could lose his position. Best-case scenario is if we can get her shares,” said Nan Mufeng impatiently.

Their father absolutely could not step down. Not just because of the shares—over the years, he and his son had made a fortune at Nanqiao, raking in over a hundred million annually in both open and under-the-table benefits.

That money funded their lavish lifestyle and elite social status.

If they were kicked out of Nanqiao, all they’d have left was their five percent stake and their family business, Shenghui Group, which was worth less than three hundred million. They’d become a joke in high society.

After so many good years, there was no way they were going back.

“Then just get her on our side. Say some nice things, coax her a little. She’ll hand them over,” her aunt said casually.

Outside, Nan Muran’s eyes were ice-cold.

Nan Ping didn’t think there was anything wrong with his wife’s suggestion. He turned to his elderly mother, acting like a spoiled child despite being fifty years old.
“Mom, Muran listens to you. Our family’s future depends on you.”

“Yeah, Mom, we’re counting on you,” her aunt added, smiling flatteringly at the Nan family matriarch.

The old lady elegantly set down her book. Her voice was proud and confident.
“Don’t worry. Leave it to me. I’ll make sure she never steps foot in Nanqiao.”