Black Coin

[Chapter 5: The Value of a Life]

[Chapter 5: The Value of a Life]

Hiss... Crackle!

Blue sparks cascaded like a waterfall in the dark tunnel.

Seven held the welding torch steady, fusing a heavy steel plate onto the frame of the third carriage. The air smelled of ozone and burning metal.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving a streak of grease.

Carriage One: Living Quarters. Secure.

Carriage Three: The Workshop. Filled with cranes, welding rigs, and enough tools to fix a tank.

Carriage Two...

Seven pulled back his goggles and stared at the empty, hollow shell of the middle carriage.

"It needs to be a farm," Seven analyzed, his eyes scanning the dark space. "Hydroponics. Oxygen recycling. Sustainable food source."

But he was a mechanic and a killer, not a botanist. He could build a gun from scrap, but he couldn't grow a potato to save his life. Without a specialist, Carriage 1Two was just wasted tonnage.

Bzzzt-Bzzzt.

A vibration against his thigh broke his concentration.

Seven froze. His hand instantly dropped to the tactical knife on his belt.

"A phone?"

He pulled the device from his pocket. The screen glowed in the darkness.

Incoming Call: Unknown Number.

Seven narrowed his eyes. The satellites were dead. The orbital grid had been shredded by the Dark Tide weeks ago. A working signal was impossible—unless it was a short-range localized connection.

He swiped answer. He didn't speak. He just breathed and listened.

"Lin... Seven? Are you still in Jiang City?"

A female voice. Trembling. High-pitched with suppressed panic.

"I... I want to join the Orbital Train Plan."

Seven recognized the voice immediately.

[ CONTACT IDENTIFIED: CHEN SIXUAN ]

[ RELATION: FORMER UNIVERSITY INSTRUCTOR. ]

Chen Sixuan. Twenty-seven years old. The campus goddess. The woman who walked through the university hallways like she owned the sunlight.

Seven remembered her well. Not with affection, but with cold data.

When he had first drafted the "Infinite Train" blueprints, he had approached her. He needed resources. She had looked at him like he was insane. She had laughed, gently but firmly, waiting for the government rescue teams that never came.

"Rescue teams," Seven scoffed internally. "Fairy tales for corpses."

In the apocalypse, the market value of a human being fluctuated wildly. A mechanic was worth his weight in gold. A doctor was priceless.

But a beautiful woman with no combat skills and no Superpower?

She was livestock. Currency. A trade good for a tank of gas or a box of crackers.

Seven leaned against the cold steel of the train. "You're alive," he said flatly. "I'm surprised."

...

[ Location: Mingwang Apartments, Block B ]

Shiver.

Chen Sixuan sat curled in the corner of her designer sofa. The curtains were drawn tight, sealed with duct tape to keep the light in and the monsters out.

She looked like a ghost. Her hair was matted. Her once-plump lips were cracked and bleeding. She wore expensive silk pajamas that hung loosely on her starving frame.

She stared at the phone screen. Battery: 4%.

"I'm... I'm still alive," she whispered, clutching the phone like a lifeline. "Seven, please... are you still in the city?"

For two months, she had lived in hell.

The darkness outside never ended. The screams from the hallway kept her awake.

She had waited for the police. Then the army. Then anyone.

When the food ran out, she had texted the local survival groups.

Group Leader A: "Send a full body pic. Nude. Then we'll talk."

Warlord B: "We don't need mouths to feed. We need warmers for the bed."

The reality had shattered her pride. She wasn't a teacher anymore. She wasn't a goddess. She was meat.

Desperation had forced her to dial the number of the quiet student she had once rejected. It was a gamble. A frantic, final bet.

"I am," Seven’s voice came through the speaker. It was calm. Terrifyingly calm.

Chen Sixuan sobbed, a sound of pure relief.

"Where are you?" she blurted out. "Can you come pick me up? I'm scared, I can't—"

She stopped. Her blood ran cold.

She remembered the mocking laughter of the last group she called. “Pick you up? Who do you think you are, a princess?”

"No! No, I mean..." She stammered, her knuckles turning white. "Tell me where you are. I... I can come to you."

She was terrified of the outside. The zombies. The dark. But the silence on the other end of the line was worse.

Seven didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched for five seconds. Ten.

"Teacher Chen," Seven finally spoke. His voice was like grinding gears.

"Do you have supplies?"

Chen Sixuan’s heart sank. She looked at her empty fridge. The empty water bottles scattered on the floor.

"No," she whispered.

"Have you awakened a Superpower?" Seven asked. "Can you fight? Can you repair machinery?"

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "No... I'm just..."

She realized she had nothing. The currency of the old world—her degree, her status, her money—was worthless dust.

She had only one thing left. The thing the other groups wanted.

"Seven," she said, her voice trembling with shame. "If... if you want me... I can..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. It was too humiliating. She was offering herself as a slave just to breathe for another day.

"Stop," Seven interrupted.

The word was sharp, cutting through her offer like a blade.

"I don't have enough food to feed a pet," Seven said, his voice devoid of lust or pity. "My supplies are calculated for survival, not charity. If you want a seat on my train, you need to bring value."

He paused, and his next words were a cold bucket of water on her last shred of hope.

"And just so we're clear, Teacher Chen... sexual needs are of no concern to me."