Chapter 58: The Arrival of My Period

Chapter Fifty-Eight

After a brief rest, the six began to sweep through the warehouse. The unpacked goods were stored by Mo Chen and the others in their spatial abilities. When their spaces could hold no more, the remainder was stuffed into Mei’s space.

The port warehouse was not particularly large, nor small. Once finished, the six exited through other entrances. While the zombies were still clustered together, they hurried to the open storage yard, sweeping all the large containers filled with goods into their spaces.

For reasons unknown, even after they had cleared all the supplies from the port, the rumored at least third-level water-element mutant zombie never appeared. Qu Wenjuan could only regret that she had no fate with the third-level water crystal, then left the port riding in a three-row SUV Mo Chen had brought out.

“What a pity about that truck. We won’t have anywhere to sleep when we go out anymore!” Mei said wistfully, gazing at the truck surrounded by zombies.

“What’s to pity? We’ll get another one if we have the chance. If you want to sleep, let the others sit in the second row and you can sleep in the very back,” Mo Chen replied, driving.

“I don’t actually want to sleep, I’m just used to the spaciousness of the truck bed, so I feel a bit uncomfortable now. Sister Juan, you seem to have a scent of blood—are you hurt?”

The space inside the car was limited, so Mei quickly noticed something off in the air.

Qu Wenjuan saw everyone looking at her, and her face flushed crimson. She answered awkwardly, “I’m not hurt!”

“Not hurt? Then why is there a bloody smell?” Mei asked, puzzled.

Her nose was sharp—she wouldn’t make a mistake.

“It’s… it’s my period,” Qu Wenjuan whispered, biting her lip.

No matter how quietly she spoke, the others heard her. Though she phrased it delicately, the men understood, and awkwardly shifted their gaze away.

Everyone understood except Mei, who looked confused. “Your period? Who’s your period? Where is she? Is she related to the smell of blood?”

As soon as she spoke, Mo Chen’s hand slipped, the car veered in an S curve and stopped, followed by his loud laughter.

Lin Shaojie, sitting in the back, clutched his stomach, laughing uncontrollably. An Ziyou and Ye Jingxuan weren’t as dramatic, but their smiles were impossible to suppress.

Only Qu Wenjuan was caught between laughing and crying, not knowing how to explain the matter of menstruation to Mei.

Mei, seeing everyone laughing but not understanding why, wondered what was so funny about her words.

“What are you laughing at? What’s so funny?” she demanded angrily, her eyes wide and cheeks puffed.

Her childlike expression prompted another round of laughter.

“Mei is still a child, not grown up yet!” An Ziyou said, smiling as he patted her head.

His words struck a nerve, and Mei immediately bristled.

“Who says I’m not grown up? I’m already seventeen, almost eighteen!” she retorted confidently.

She knew well that in this world, eighteen was considered adulthood. Though it wasn’t true adulthood, reaching the age was a kind of maturity.

Almost eighteen?

The others vaguely remembered her mentioning her age. But with her appearance—only fourteen or fifteen—it was easy to overlook her actual years.

“Mei, have you ever…” Qu Wenjuan, sensing something amiss, wanted to ask about her period, but recalling that Mei didn’t understand, replaced her words with “that.”

Even if she matured late, a seventeen-year-old girl should have experienced it.

“That? What’s that?” Unfortunately, Mei still didn’t understand, looking at her with confusion, wondering why she couldn’t just say it plainly.

Seeing that Mei was still at a loss, Qu Wenjuan leaned in, whispering all the euphemisms for menstruation in her ear.

Hearing “menstruation,” Mei finally understood.

Her original race, even upon reaching maturity, never experienced menstruation. But the human women in her world did, though with increased strength, such physical reactions disappeared. Mei had a few female human friends, but their abilities had long since surpassed such things, so she only knew of it, not experienced it.

Arriving in this world, the apocalypse not only brought zombies, abilities, and mutated plants and animals, but even early on, women’s cycles had changed. No longer once a month for five or six days; Qu Wenjuan’s cycle had come only twice in nearly four months, the last time being three months ago, and only lasted a day. When she had her last period, Mei hadn’t met her yet, so naturally didn’t know. And since Mei only knew of menstruation but had never encountered it, she hadn’t thought to connect the bloody scent to this.

“So you meant menstruation! If you’d just said so, I would have known. Why use those strange words?” Mei complained after her realization.

“Girls usually don’t let others know about such things—it’s embarrassing, so we use other terms,” Qu Wenjuan said, mortified to discuss this among the men, but as the only other female, it fell to her to explain.

“Isn’t a girl’s period proof of maturity? Isn’t it a good thing? Why not let people know?” Mei couldn’t understand the mindset of women in this world.

In her original world, regardless of race, growing up was cause for celebration, with blessings from family and friends. Why was it so different here?

Unable to explain, Qu Wenjuan muddled through and shifted the topic. “Girls are supposed to be modest… so, Mei, you’re seventeen—never had it?”

Mei searched her memories, then shook her head. “No. Isn’t it supposed to happen after adulthood?”

“Of course not! Has no one ever told you? Girls usually start around thirteen or fourteen, sometimes as early as eleven or twelve,” Qu Wenjuan explained, shocked at Mei’s lack of basic knowledge.

Mei realized she had misunderstood again and was a bit frustrated.

Humans in this world were strange, defining adulthood by age rather than physical maturity.

If her race judged adulthood this way, she would have been grown up long ago and wouldn’t have needed to come to this world.

Seeing Mei’s dejection, Qu Wenjuan remembered she had said she was an orphan—no one to teach her was normal.

The others thought the same, their laughter replaced by pity for her lack of guidance. Among them, Mo Chen’s expression was particularly abnormal, his face dark, knuckles white on the steering wheel, radiating such a low pressure everyone noticed his mood.

No one knew why he suddenly became like this. Mei guessed he might be recalling the days in the laboratory, and reached over to pat his arm.

“Ah Chen, don’t think about it. Everything will be all right.”

That was a thorn buried deep in Mo Chen’s heart, and unless it was removed, the wound would never heal.

Mo Chen didn’t speak, only bowed his head, his thoughts unreadable.

“I’ll drive,” Ye Jingxuan said, getting out and opening the driver’s side door, signaling Mo Chen to rest.

Mo Chen didn’t object, got out, sat in the back next to Mei, and pulled her into his arms, seeking comfort from her presence. Mei leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, offering silent solace.

Ye Jingxuan glanced at the two through the rearview mirror, his gaze darkening.

Those two must share a past unknown to others, a secret they refused to share, forming a barrier no one could cross.

What had they experienced that their moods shifted so drastically whenever it was recalled?

For the first time, Ye Jingxuan felt compelled to discover the truth.

He wanted to get closer to Mei, not always be excluded when something happened.

The others, sensing Mei and Mo Chen’s melancholy, lost the mood for conversation.

Qu Wenjuan, watching the pair embrace, tried to recall details about Mo Chen from the book. Finally, she remembered a detail she had always overlooked: in the story, after the second male lead Mo Chen and the protagonists destroyed a laboratory conducting human experiments, he disappeared and never returned.

When she first read it, she thought the second lead left because he realized he had no chance between the main couple and wanted to let them be together.

Now, she felt that wasn’t the case.

Whether in the book or reality, Mo Chen was wild and unrestrained, a man who exuded a dangerous aura, acting purely on his own will. If he wasn’t happy, no one else would be, and his possessiveness rivaled Ye Jingxuan’s. Otherwise, he wouldn’t constantly target Ye Jingxuan whenever he showed interest in Mei.

How could such a man want to let others have their way? Unless he never cared for the heroine as much as he claimed.

Qu Wenjuan looked again at Mo Chen, eyes closed, realizing how deep his thoughts ran—nothing she could ever fathom. Her own naive assumptions now seemed laughably childish. How had she ever believed she could control such a man?