Although Bai Chunian wasn’t particularly eager to go upstairs just yet, he was summoned by the Chairman’s phone call.
Both the Chairman and Uncle Jin were there, and judging by the open bags of snacks on the coffee table, Lu Yan hadn’t gone far either.
The Chairman was working at his desk, while Uncle Jin sat on the sofa with a laptop resting on his lap, a coffee cup in his left hand, and his right hand occasionally tapping out a few words to send to someone.
“What are you standing there for? Did that fish chew up some equipment again?”
“No…” Bai Chunian clenched the voice recorder in his pocket.
“That Du Mo you introduced a while back is pretty good,” Lu Shangjin said. “People still don’t know much about him, so this is a good chance to have him handle it.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“This is such a minor matter—no need for me to get my hands dirty. It’s the perfect opportunity to teach you.” Lu Shangjin hooked his toe to signal him to come sit down, then turned the computer screen toward him. “Du Mo will be in charge of negotiating the contract with the research institute’s sales team. He used to be a low-level prison guard and has no experience in business dealings, but I’ve taught you how to negotiate.”
It was true that over the past few years, Bai Chunian had often accompanied Uncle Jin on outings. Whenever wealthy people gathered—whether for business dinners or island vacations—they were constantly gathering information and building connections. Through osmosis, Bai Chunian had picked up a thing or two.
He remembered when he first returned and was riding in Uncle Jin’s car. As they drove through an unnamed small county town, he spotted a vendor selling candied hawthorn on a crossroads and leaned curiously against the window to watch. At that moment, Uncle Jin casually remarked, “It looks crowded, but he won’t sell much here. It’s hard to park near the traffic lights—he’d be better off moving a few steps further down the road.”
Lu Shangjin, seeing him lost in thought, gave him a light kick. “Remember, when you meet them, start by asking for 60,000 vials of nutrient solution—just drop a zero from the price right off the bat.”
Bai Chunian thought for a moment: “On average, each test subject requires a maximum of three thousand vials of nutrient solution to reach maturity. We have nearly twenty test subjects here—that should be enough. Are you suggesting… we just keep the test subjects and not return them?”
“I told you to learn from me properly, but you had to go and play the secret agent. If you’d just stuck to selling candy apples, that would’ve been the end of it.” ” Lu Shangjin gave him a firm rub on the head. “What we want is the infection serum—the maximum quantity he can produce, all at once.”
With Uncle Jin putting it that bluntly, Bai Chunian would have no face left to stay in the room if he still didn’t get it. He nodded thoughtfully: “Got it.”
The chairman suddenly looked up. “New update: The Lingti Clan has already picked up the shipment and is storing it in cold storage—three hundred tons of monolenin raw material. They’ll likely refine it into finished products at their own factory before shipping them to the various pharmaceutical plants under the Research Institute.”
Having served as Yan Yi’s subordinate for several years, he didn’t need explicit instructions; a mere exchange of glances was enough to grasp the mission.
Lu Shangjin curved her lips slightly: “Blow it up for him.”
After work, Bai Chunian was too lazy to take off his clothes and just flopped onto the bed, placing his voice recorder on the wireless charger by the bedside to recharge.
He turned around to find Lan Bo leaning against the fish tank, staring at him gloomily.
“What’s wrong? Are you hungry? There are two tomatoes in the fridge—I can stir-fry them for you.”
Lan Bo spat out two wilted green tomato stems.
“…I’ll just heat up the instant hot pot I’ve been saving later. I’m too tired. I’m going to lie down for a bit. I’ve got a mission tonight.”
Bai Chunian climbed out of bed and stood by the wardrobe, taking off his clothes.
Just as he pulled the collar over his head, Bai Chunian felt a cold body press against his back. A pair of hands rested on his waist, their fingertips brushing the edge of his navel.
Bai Chunian took off his shirt and tossed it into the wardrobe. Looking down, he saw the fishtail wrapped around his leg had turned a translucent red.
He turned his head and met Lan Bo’s gaze. Lan Bo’s pupils had elongated into startling, vertical slits, and between his slightly parted lips, jagged fangs were faintly visible.
He’s angry.
“Honey.” Bai Chunian turned and pulled Lan Bo close, pressing him flat against the wardrobe door, licking the hollow of his neck and the rim of his ear.
The scales that had bristled on Lan Bo’s body quietly smoothed back against his skin. His fishtail returned to a serene blue, wrapping softly around Bai Chunian’s neck, while his slitted pupils dilated into gentle, deep-blue circles.
“You’re angry again. Why do you have such a short temper?”
“If you want me to be your dad, I’m not exactly incapable of it.”
“……What does that have to do with anything?”
“Hmm.”
“Hey, what are you upset about? You have parents—shouldn’t you be happy?”
“I’m not. I don’t remember what they look like. I only remember two pairs of hands scraping my scales off over and over. I feel pain too. I don’t like them.”
“Then I don’t like them either.” Bai Chunian laid Lan Bo down on the bed, lay down beside him, and rested his hand naturally on Lan Bo’s lower abdomen, rubbing it gently.
“You used to hit me so hard. Why aren’t you hitting me now?”
“If I don’t hit you, Yan Yi will punish you severely. He’ll only soften his heart if he sees you’re hurt.”
“That just means making me write a self-criticism. If it’s serious, they’ll expel me. The president definitely wouldn’t use corporal punishment.”
“He’d put you in detention. You’d have to stay in a dark, tiny room for a long time. You don’t like cramped, dark places—I know that.”
“Yeah, I don’t like them.” ” Bai Chunian pressed himself against Lan Bo’s cheek and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, “But do you know that when you hit me, it actually feels really good?”
Lan Bo froze.
Bai Chunian lowered his head into the crook of his neck and murmured softly, his warm breath brushing against Lan Bo’s cool neck.
“Discipline me more.”
The phone by the pillow rang. It was an unknown number. Bai Chunian answered it but didn’t speak right away. Their devices were all encrypted by the IOA Technology Department; it was impossible for outsiders to eavesdrop or track their location—they were completely secure.
An Omega’s voice came through the speaker.
“I’m on my way to discuss an order with the research institute’s pharmaceutical representative. They gave me this number and said you’d tell me what to do.”
“Hey, it’s me,” Bai Chunian replied. “I’ll remind you during the call—just remember to turn on your hidden communicator.”
On the other end of the line, Du Mo heard that familiar, scumbag-like tone and immediately sighed in exasperation.
Du Mo hung up the phone, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, and walked into the office building where the pharmaceutical representative was located. His current identity was that of a manager at Hualì Medical Devices—though it was a temporary cover, he had to play the part convincingly.
After being forced to leave the international prison, he had nowhere to go. Having worked as a prison guard for several years, he’d made enemies of nothing but hardened criminals. Even if the inmates had cut ties with their organizations before entering, it wouldn’t be surprising if a few of his former brothers were still out there—crushing a lowly prison guard would be as easy as turning over one’s hand. With the powerful backer Du Mo had relied on now gone, he couldn’t survive without finding a new patron; even fleeing abroad would likely be a dead end.
Fortunately, Bai Chunian had a shred of conscience and referred him to Lu Shangjin. For Du Mo, this was a lifeline he had to cling to for dear life.
Since they had made an appointment in advance, the pharmaceutical agent knew he was dealing with a major client and welcomed Du Mo into the meeting room with a smile.
The Alpha in charge of the deal—a man in his thirties—poured Du Mo a cup of tea. They discussed pricing first before drafting the contract.
The Alpha slid the price list for the pharmaceuticals across the table to Du Mo and said with a smile, “Please take a look.”
The A4 sheet clearly listed the prices of their various products: AC Enhancers and HD Expansion Agents were marked as out of stock, while the remaining SH Shielding Agents were priced at 15,000 per vial, IN Infection Agents at 90,000 per vial, and NU Nutritional Supplements at 140,000 per vial.
Although Du Mo had seen his fair share of the world during his time as a prison guard at the International Prison—where corrupt inmates were plentiful, and those whose homes were raided were invariably quite wealthy—he still couldn’t help but inwardly exclaim, “Good grief,” upon seeing the prices of these seemingly ordinary syringes.
He kept his composure, took a moment to collect himself, pushed the price list back, and said casually, “Well, this price list is from the first half of the year. We’re all in the know—we’re all smart enough to see what’s going on. Ordering 60,000 vials of nutritional agents isn’t a small sum. Give me a fair price.”
The institute’s current situation was no secret to anyone in or out of the industry. Many competitors were eager to take advantage of the situation, and the agent understood this well. He could only say, “The raw materials for these serums are indeed precious. Since you’re genuinely interested in placing an order, a discount is certainly possible.”
The agent implied that the total price of 8.4 billion was negotiable, and discounts could be discussed.
Du Mo actually felt the price was about right. After all, he was used to items with fixed prices; the most he’d ever haggled over was buying a decorative piece at a department store, where he’d managed to knock the price down from 3,000 to 1,500. When it came to haggling over a sum so large he couldn’t even count all the zeros, he was completely at a loss.
Just then, the hidden communicator in his ear buzzed. Bai Chunian said, “Make it 800 million.”
Du Mo nearly cursed out loud. He thought this was some antique market where they haggled over fakes. For a serum worth 8 billion, others might knock off a few zeros as a discount—but this guy was wiping out an entire zero? Did this kid even know how to do business?
Sure enough, when Du Mo steeled himself and calmly stated that price, the agent’s face turned green. If not for his composure, he would have likely stormed out and kicked them out on the spot.
Du Mo took a deep breath to hide his inner uncertainty, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Business is tough for everyone these days. I doubt you’ve had any major orders lately.”
The agent’s expression was already grim, but after a moment’s thought, he decided to call headquarters.
The research institute’s pharmaceutical distribution department reported the matter truthfully to Ailian.
Ailian was trimming her nails at her curved desk when the AI’s electronic voice sounded, reading the report aloud.
Elaine gently filed down the sharp tips of her nails and snorted coldly, “Just Lu Shangjin’s usual tactics—a self-proclaimed shrewd, unscrupulous businessman. Given the current situation, everyone knows who’s short on supplies. Their IOA just withheld twenty of my test subjects; it seems they have no intention of returning them. They even plan to cultivate them all into top-tier weapons—truly, they’re so rich they’re reckless. “Yan Yi, you’re no better. You two are cut from the same cloth—both despicable.”
The AI named “Lantern” replied mechanically, “But we need this money. Maintenance costs for the test subject preservation equipment have already exceeded the budget. If we keep going like this, we’ll have to eliminate some of the weaker test subjects ourselves to save on maintenance costs.”
The pharmaceutical agent was still locked in a standoff with Du Mo. After a long while, the AI mechanically read out a new email: “The other party has switched to purchasing the In infection serum and is willing to pay half the listed price.”
Aileen pondered for a moment.
Nutritional serums have the highest demand but low production—only 40,000 vials a year. Lu Shangjin wants to buy them at the lowest possible price, which suggests three possibilities: directly purchasing them to feed the test subjects held by IOA; having the Medical Association alter some ingredients to sell through other channels; or hoarding them for scarcity marketing.
Now that he’s switched to buying infection serums, it’s likely a diversion; Lu Shangjin’s true objective remains the nutritional serums.
Demand for infection serums isn’t high—after all, people don’t buy test subjects just to kill them for fun. The infection serum is merely a precautionary measure to subdue the test subjects in an emergency.
Even if Lu Shangjin wants the infection serum to deal with the research institute’s test subjects, as long as the institute receives the payment, it still has a chance to recover.
“Sell it,” Ai Lian snorted with a laugh. “We only have 10,000 vials in stock; the remaining 50,000 will be delivered by the end of the month. Have him pay the deposit.”
Ai cautioned, “Our current stock of monolenin is insufficient. If we use it all to produce the infection serum, we’ll have almost none left after delivery.”
“The Lingti Clan has already obtained the raw materials. We’ll receive the finished product next month, so there’s plenty of monolenin.”
“Alright. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”
In the end, Du Mo secured an order for 60,000 doses of the infection agent at a price of 45,000 per dose, with a 20% deposit paid upfront. His hands were shaking as he signed the contract—he’d never seen so many zeros before. To the rich, writing zeros is like painting. It wasn’t until he stepped out of the office building that he let out a heavy sigh, then slipped into a secluded spot to curse Bai Chunian, that scumbag, at the top of his lungs.
Bai Chunian smiled happily, said “Thank you for your hard work” several times, and then hung up.
——
At the same time, dinner had just been served at Dr. Han’s house. Xiao Xun and Dr. Han were sitting at the bar, their heads bowed as they picked at the fish in the milky-white fish soup.
Han Xingqian placed his hand on Xiao Xun’s nape and said gently, “I know you really don’t want to talk about your family.”
Xiao Xun shook his head slightly. “I feel like I’ve already cut ties with that place. I don’t want to have anything to do with anyone from the Lingti Clan anymore. The Selection Ceremony is coming up soon. Brother Chu said I could prove my abilities at the grand event, but I… “I don’t want to go.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need to prove myself to them. They’ll never acknowledge me—or recognize an Omega’s worth outside of marriage. Besides, their approval means nothing to me.”
“Hmm. That’s fine.” Han Xingqian stroked his cheek. “You’ve already started moving in the right direction. Besides, an assassination mission would indeed be too much for a child your age.”
Xiao Xun’s lowered eyelashes suddenly lifted. “Assassination? Who?”
“Though it’s unfortunate, you have the right to know. The current head of the Lingti Clan, Xiao Changxiu—your nominal grandfather.”
Xiao Xun’s expression shifted from bewilderment and stupor to growing agitation. His eyes widened, bloodshot veins slowly creeping across the whites of his eyes, while his right hand, resting on his knee, kept making motions as if pulling a trigger.
According to Bai Chunian, it was Xiao Xun who, during the ATWL exam, had injected the Snake Girl with the AC stimulant at the very end. Even as he was shot in the head and fell from the high platform, he had revealed a look of satisfaction at the success of his revenge.
Han Xingqian had never believed it, because Xiao Xun was simply too well-behaved—he didn’t seem at all like a teenager with a vengeful streak twisted to the point of pathology. Yet the psychological counselor on Aphid Island kept showing him the medical test results, which confirmed that Xiao Xun did indeed harbor intense desires for revenge and destruction.
“All right, all right.” ” Han Xingqian pulled Xiao Xun, who was lost in painful fantasies, into his arms. A soothing pheromone with the scent of chidori grass gently flowed into the glands at the back of Xiao Xun’s neck as he whispered comfortingly, “Good boy, don’t think about it anymore.”
After a long while, Xiao Xun gently grasped Dr. Han’s lapel and said in a muffled, cautious voice, “ “I’m more than willing. Please, let me be the assassin.”