Chapter 2

Cheng Youyou’s original body already had four beast husbands—each one a powerful and strikingly handsome warrior from the strongest tribes. These beastmen hadn’t chosen her willingly. Her shaman father had forcibly bound them to her through contract.

There were still two husband slots left, but the remaining beastmen would rather offend the tribe’s shaman than be bound to Cheng Youyou.

The two men from the cave just now? They’re also her beast husbands. Half-brothers, born to the same mother, but with different fathers. In this world, it’s perfectly normal for half-brothers to be bound to the same female and provide for her.

The fruit may be bitter when forcibly picked, but at least it quenches thirst. Though these beastmen ignored the original Cheng Youyou, they still fulfilled their duty to provide.

As for that naked man in the cave—yes, that was the original host’s doing. The ultra-masculine guy wasn’t wrong. She’d harvested sweetgrass and slipped it into his food, planning to force herself on him, but something went wrong. Somehow, she transmigrated into the original’s body at that exact moment.

She was too stunned to even complain. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding—it was a scandal she couldn’t wash off even if she jumped into the Yellow River. That massive black pot (*sin)? She was stuck carrying it.

Cheng Youyou’s face scrunched like a bitter melon. She’d worked so hard to find a hidden paradise in the apocalypse, built an impenetrable shelter, and gathered precious supplies bit by bit. She hadn’t even had time to enjoy it before being flung into this mess.

Still, this place had clean water and abundant food. Compared to the apocalypse, it was practically heaven. She was determined to live well here. Even if her beast husbands refused to provide for her after what happened, she had hands and feet—she could forage on her own. She straightened up and glanced at her palm. That strange sensation still lingered.

First things first: wash her hands. Maybe they were still salvageable?

The sun had already dipped westward, casting an orange light through the dense leaves and scattering golden flecks across the forest floor. Vines tangled through the thick woods, moss blanketing the ground where sunlight never reached. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, mingling with the birdsong to form a symphony.

Cheng Youyou closed her eyes, letting the wind brush her cheeks. She felt the pulse of nature’s power and smiled faintly. In the apocalypse, she’d awakened two abilities: wood and healing. Her wood ability was level 5, healing only level 2. Neither were combat types, so survival had been tough. She’d finally found stability in a small base. However, after clashing with the base’s management, she left to survive on her own. Now, in this world brimming with natural energy, she was confident her wood ability would grow stronger. That gave her hope—she could thrive here.

She opened her eyes and glanced toward the river. Several females squatted by the clear stream, washing beast hides and gossiping loudly. When they saw her, silence fell. Their eyes landed on her with undisguised contempt and disgust. Ever since her shaman father disappeared deep in the forest, the tribe’s females had grown increasingly hostile.

She didn’t care. They were just jealous she had those powerful, handsome beast husbands. She didn’t need to hear them to know what they were saying, probably mocking her for being unfeminine, shameless; that her husbands were like flowers stuck in cow dung.

She walked past them without a word, heading upstream.

Not far ahead, the stream curved. The water was crystal clear, teeming with plump fish and shrimp. Unlike the grotesque creatures of the apocalypse, these looked delicious. Her mouth watered uncontrollably. She stepped forward, ready to activate her ability—but caught sight of her reflection and froze.

Cheng Youyou leaned closer to the water, studying her reflection. When she saw it clearly, she clutched her face in disbelief. Greasy, uneven skin met her palms. The sticky sensation instantly killed her appetite. Her hair was a tangled bird’s nest. She wore a beast-hide skirt, its chest area slick with oil and reeking. She squatted, inspecting her face in the water. The sight nearly made her vomit. Her skin was oily and rough, covered in pimples. Her pores were huge, and thick black hair sprouted across her face.

Her body? Round as a ball. Completely unrecognizable.

“Heavens… is this really what I look like now?”

She didn’t care much about looks, but this was beyond human. She was a greasy, hairy, ugly blob. No wonder she’d been gasping for breath after running just a short distance—her heart felt ready to explode. She sniffed herself. The stench nearly knocked her out.

No way. She had to clean up. In the apocalypse, this kind of smell would attract zombies like flies—they’d chase her nonstop.

She was filthy and greasy all over. Where to even start?

She took a deep breath, braced herself, and dunked her head into the stream. Mud and oil floated off her hair, forming a greasy film on the water.

Too dirty. Plain water wasn’t enough.

She closed her eyes and reached out with her wood ability, sensing the natural energy around her. When she opened her eyes again, the fat on her face squeezed her eyes into slits—but they sparkled with joy.

Sure enough, the vegetation here was lush—not just food, but cleansing plants too. Just a short distance from the stream.

She harvested a ton. In the apocalypse, cleansing plants were worth their weight in gold. Zombies lacked sight and hearing, but their sense of smell was terrifyingly sharp—especially when it came to human body odors. So hygiene products were vital. But after civilization collapsed, they became rare consumables. One bottle used meant one less. Eventually, people discovered that certain plants—such as soap pods—had cleansing properties. They became precious resources.

Looking at the fresh green soap pods in her hands, Cheng Youyou couldn’t help but smile. Was she living a life of luxury now?

She could use them however she wanted.

But her hair was beyond filthy. The soap pod juice barely foamed. She had to keep squeezing more. Soon, soap pod pulp piled around her feet. She washed again and again, using up all she’d gathered. Finally, her hair was clean.

The river’s surface shimmered with oil in the orange sunset, gleaming conspicuously.