“Lu Xun, Francis.” Yuan Que repeated, calm and deliberate. “You should be grateful I promised not to kill you today.”
“……”
“……”
At that moment, Lu Pei and Lu Xun shared the same rare thought:
What kind of name is that?
Yuan Que had actually rendered Lu Xun speechless for several seconds.
“His name is Lu Xun. His surname is Lu,” Lu Pei said, exasperated. “Who told you you could just mash two surnames together like that?”
Then he answered Lu Xun’s earlier question. “How could I be married? After being sent to the reformation institute, I stayed there the whole time and then I came underground… ah.”
He suddenly remembered the woman named Ruby and Ren Yao. His words faltered. Then, with a strange realization dawning, his expression shifted to shock.
“You thought Lu Xun’s full name was Lu Xun, Francis? That he’s the husband of Ruby Francis? You think I married him?!”
As he asked, You think I married him?! in utter disbelief, Yuan Que felt a flicker of guilt, as if he had been caught writing a wrong answer.
He finally realized his mistake.
The violent tension in his expression abruptly dissipated, like a thunderstorm cut short.
In its place lingered a damp, uneasy stillness. He turned his gaze toward the bullet hole in the safety door, as though trying to extract the truth from it.
“Listen carefully.” Lu Pei raised both hands and forcibly turned Yuan Que’s face back toward him. To prevent further absurd assumptions, he explained with particular clarity. “Lu Xun is my brother. My real brother. That means we share the same parents. If we got married, it would be illegal. Ruby Francis is a fake identity for cover. I’m unmarried. I don’t have a husband.”
Yuan Que lowered his gaze, meeting his eyes.
A strand of his long hair slipped from his shoulder, falling softly across his chest.
“…Mm.” he said.
“You really understand?” Lu Pei asked cautiously.
“…I understand.”
Lu Pei didn’t trust that. “Repeat it. What’s my relationship with Lu Xun?”
“He is your brother.”
The fact that the surface dweller had no husband eased Yuan Que slightly but almost immediately, he realized that a brother was a permanent bond, one that couldn’t be dissolved or replaced through competition. His life could still be disrupted.
“Do we really look that different? You couldn’t tell?” Lu Pei stepped over to Lu Xun’s side. “We look somewhat alike, don’t we?”
Dressed in a hospital gown, Lu Xun no longer had the affected, ostentatious air he had worn in formal attire. His green eyes did share some resemblance with Lu Pei’s but overall, his appearance was still plain and unremarkable.
“Not at all” Yuan Que said decisively.
“Yuan Que has terrible eyesight” Lu Pei said with a grin, turning to Lu Xun.
When he turned back, he found his brother silently looking at him with a calm gaze that plainly conveyed: Your eyesight is worse.
“Where did you find this person?” Lu Xun asked. “There are plans to adjust recruitment regions. Your answer would be valuable as a reference.”
Even the conscription system wouldn’t want someone like Yuan Que. The insult was sharp. Lu Pei laughed awkwardly, lacking the confidence to refute it.
Like someone trying to defend an embarrassing partner, Lu Pei instinctively used the kind of lines that annoyed friends. “Yuan Que isn’t usually like this. He’s actually pretty good to me…”
“Why did you ‘promise not to kill me today’?” Lu Xun asked.
“He…” Lu Pei hesitated, the explanation difficult to voice. “He thinks I’m… um…”
Yuan Que had a unique and obsessive understanding of alliances, something not easily explained.
Lu Xun interpreted it in a straightforward way. “He thought I was your husband, so he couldn’t tolerate it. Is that it?”
“Yes” Yuan Que answered.
“Not at all!” Lu Pei retorted.
“So he’s pursuing you?”
“No.”
“No!”
Expecting Yuan Que to understand love was like expecting a seal to ride a bicycle across Antarctica, completely unrealistic.
“Don’t think in that direction” Lu Pei said.
Lu Xun examined Yuan Que again. Aside from stupidity and hostility, he saw nothing noteworthy. In his impression, his younger brother frequently dated girls his own age, there was nothing to worry about.
“You should go back,” Lu Xun said. “I’ll have Duoban escort you.”
“Why did you poison yourself? What result are you aiming for? Why choose Sunny Day Hospital?” Lu Pei asked.
“Be obedient.”
“Ge!”
Lu Xun grabbed his wrist and stepped forward. Lu Pei was dragged along the floor, immediately shouting, “Yuan Que!”
Yuan Que seized his other hand.
The three of them ended up in a strange tug of war, Lu Pei caught in the middle as both sides pulled.
“Haha, guys! I knocked out that nurse! Found poison in her pocket!” Weilang came rushing back, holding up a vial, brimming with excitement. “Ahahaha!”
“Let go,” Yuan Que said.
“You should be the one letting go,” Lu Xun replied.
“He doesn’t want to go with you.”
Weilang hesitated, turning slightly away. “Uh… I’ll go check on that nurse again…”
“Weilang, come back!” Lu Pei’s eyes flickered as an idea formed. He said to Lu Xun, “Wen Tiannan sent us here, for that batch of Seracibin. Otherwise, how do you think I got in?”
Weilang awkwardly turned back, hovering a few steps away, ready to retreat at any moment.
The essence of a lie lay in mixing truth with falsehood. Lu Pei took out the “key” and vividly described how he had bribed a researcher in the pharmacy department in advance.
Lu Xun stopped, evaluating the information.
After a moment, he relented and explained, “I was transferred here due to a flare up of my genetic illness. Coincidentally, a new drug from Xijia Pharmaceuticals is widely suspected of triggering latent genetic conditions. It’s already facing multiple lawsuits.”
“You’re still targeting them,” Lu Pei said. “So your ‘illness’ was deliberately induced by the pharmaceutical company and then you’re ‘assassinated’ during treatment, a second attempt to silence you?”
“Some media outlets would likely think so.”
Even after being imprisoned for so long, he could still manipulate media narratives…
Lu Pei felt a complicated realization, his brother’s imprisonment might itself have been a calculated move.
If only that level of cunning could be distributed to those who actually needed it.
Lu Pei said nothing. Yuan Que had already started zoning out from not understanding but Weilang looked thoughtful, this wasn’t the moment for deeper discussion.
“You’re going to the medication room?” Lu Xun asked.
“Yes.”
They were going there to obtain samples for Lin Qiuge as payment for the key.
Weilang didn’t understand how things had suddenly progressed to that point. Lu Pei leaned in and whispered, “This is a secret mission from the boss, for me and Qiuge.”
So that’s why he showed up out of nowhere. Weilang accepted it without doubt. “Oh, got it.”
The shift in Weilang’s expression, from confusion to sudden understanding, didn’t escape Lu Xun’s notice. He immediately realized the man had been fooled and that much of what Lu Pei had just told him wasn’t true either.
Reckless. A little liar.
“…,” Lu Xun sighed silently. “I’ll go with you.”
………..
Mine Site.
Because it was perpetually shrouded in dust, the air around the mine was always more polluted than elsewhere but today, an additional shadow seemed to hang over it.
That afternoon, a funeral was being held for Mammoth.
Though it was an open air funeral in the mining district, the procedures were complete, the venue carefully arranged, draped in black.
Since Mammoth had been a Buddhist, a monk had been invited to chant prayers for his soul before the coffin and portrait.
Zhou Zu, dressed in a black suit, sat in the center of the front row. On either side were Mammoth’s lieutenants and trusted aides. Further out sat Ren Yao and others.
Behind them, several subordinates quietly wept. The atmosphere was heavy.
Elton, seated to Zhou Zu’s left, maintained a solemn expression until his phone rang in his pocket.
He stepped aside to answer, then returned, lowering his voice. “Boss, they’ve gone to Sunny Day Hospital.”
“Both of them?” Zhou Zu asked.
“Yes.”
“As instructed, we’ve already replaced the test tubes with thinner ones and adjusted the cooling program,” Elton said. “Is there anything else we need to do?”
“That’s sufficient,” Zhou Zu replied.
Recently, Zhou Zu had been in a foul mood because Lu Xun had sabotaged his gold digging operation. The underlings around him were all walking on eggshells. Everyone knew that although Boss Zhou could be tolerant, when it came to enemies, he never let grudges go. There was no way he would easily spare Lu Xun, Yuan Que, or that white haired one going by the alias Ruby.
Replacing test tubes, adjusting the refrigeration program, how could that possibly count as revenge? Elton was curious but he didn’t dare to ask.
Above the coffin hung a black and white portrait, surrounded by clusters of vivid flowers.
Zhou Zu stared at the photo for a long time before letting out a sigh like murmur. “It’s only been a year since Julian left us and now Mammoth has also fallen at Yuan Que’s hands.”
That single word, also, made Elton’s heart jolt violently. Also?
Julian had been one of Zhou Zu’s most capable subordinates, Mammoth’s direct superior before him and like a brother to Mammoth. Officially, Julian had died at the hands of an enemy.
But could it be…
Elton suddenly realized something. Back when Julian was alive, Mammoth had treated Yuan Que quite well. It was only after Julian’s death, when Yuan Que had been reassigned to the mine by Zhou Zu, that Mammoth’s attitude toward him had taken a sharp downturn. Everyone had assumed it was just Yuan Que’s personality irritating his superior.
“That day, they had just brought in a fresh batch of ‘Forget me Water’ from the surface. It was very new.”
Zhou Zu continued to gaze at the coffin and portrait, speaking as if recounting an ordinary matter, though the content made Elton’s blood run cold. “Twenty two people gathered in that room to try the new product. Julian thought highly of Yuan Que at the time, so he called him in as well.”
He paused, then asked, “You’ve tried it, haven’t you? What did it feel like?”
“Forget me Water?” Elton said. “It’s… unusual. It doesn’t have that harsh kick. After inhaling it, you just want to sleep. Your whole body feels incredibly comfortable and in your dreams, everything feels pleasant. You don’t want to move, just lie there, keep sleeping.”
“Yes,” Zhou Zu said. “It’s a drug. For most people, it brings a floating, dreamlike bliss but there are a very small number of individuals who, after inhaling even a little, go mad instead.”
“Mad?” Elton asked, confused.
“Like a beast releasing its true nature,” Zhou Zu replied.
That day,
“Boss, something’s wrong!” Zhou Zu had received the message and rushed back.
The underlings stammered, unable to explain clearly. Fear stained every face. They led Zhou Zu to that room. He pushed the door open,
A sea of blood.
The door had been locked from the inside to prevent interruption. The entire room had become a slaughterhouse for a humanoid monster.
“They couldn’t escape,” Zhou Zu said lightly.
The next second, he smiled. “So they won’t be able to escape this time either.”
………..
Lu Xun returned to his hospital room to straighten his appearance and collect a few items, then set off with them.
The prison guard stood upright with hands behind his back, pretending to hear nothing.
Sunny Day Hospital had three districts. The pharmacy department belonged to the Clinical Research Institute, a short distance from the VIP building.
Weilang kept sneaking glances at Lu Xun, his expression conflicted. He had infiltrated this place just to catch a glimpse of his idol. Instead, he had accidentally stumbled upon the man’s private affairs and discovered that his acquaintance was involved in what felt like a melodramatic plot twist. The illusion was collapsing.
Lu Xun possessed striking features, along with a cold, commanding aura that made people overlook appearance altogether and instinctively respect him. He perfectly matched the public’s idealized image of a soldier.
Weilang’s gaze swept over him again and again like a brush, unable to stop. Lu Xun, however, remained straight backed and forward facing, a walking recruitment poster.
Security in the pharmacy department was noticeably stricter. Lu Pei took out another key chip and swiped through three different doors before reaching the second floor.
At the entrance stood a surveillance camera the size of a small filming device, mounted heavily on the wall.
Following Lin Qiuge’s instructions, Lu Pei slapped an electronic identification patch onto his face and had the others keep their distance.
“Beep.”
“IC card verification passed.”
“Beep.”
“Facial recognition passed.”
The door still didn’t open.
The electronic voice announced, “Please enter the dynamic verification code.”
Lu Pei: “…?” Lin Qiuge hadn’t mentioned this at all and he’d dared claim it was foolproof.
“What’s a dynamic verification code?” Weilang asked.
“Ask Qiuge for it.”
“He’s at the hospital?”
“Yes. Yuan Que, you go-”
Yuan Que stood up.
Lu Xun lifted his wrist. The screen of his watch like terminal lit up. “039456.”
Lu Pei quickly entered the numbers.
A green circle appeared on the display.
“Access granted.”
Lu Xun glanced at him. “Going on a mission without preparing anything?”
Lu Pei knew he’d been seen through. Feeling guilty, he puffed out his chest. “Isn’t that why we have you…” He quickly added, “…and Yuan Que?”
Yuan Que let out a cold snort.
Weilang looked at the two ahead, then at Yuan Que silently following behind them. His hair was black and somehow also green.
The Seracibin storage was a constant temperature cold room set at four degrees, the third room on the right after entering.
Inside were double door refrigerators, also displaying [4].
“Take one,” Lu Pei said. “Destroy the rest?”
Lu Xun nodded.
Yuan Que opened the cabinet.
The moment he pulled the door open, the refrigeration compressor kicked in with a loud hum.
The noise was enormous, either the machine was old, or it was running far beyond capacity. Judging by the rapidly dropping temperature display, it was likely the latter.
In the blink of an eye, the temperature dropped from 4°C to 4°C. Cold gas burst from the vents, filling the storage room with white mist.
Yuan Que was handling the vials. Lu Pei asked, “Did you hit something just now?!”
“No.”
The temperature plummeted to [ 20], continuing to fall visibly.
Because of the sudden freezing, the vials became stuck in their slots, frozen in place. Yuan Que tried to loosen them but didn’t dare apply too much force, they might shatter.
Sensing something wrong, Lu Pei made a swift decision. “Forget it, let’s go!”
“Got one,” Yuan Que said.
He had indeed managed to pull out a vial but a fine crack appeared on the glass.
Crack!
Frost spread across the surface. The tiny crack expanded instantly, splitting the vial apart. Liquid leaked out.
Not just the one in his hand, all the glass vials in the cabinet fractured under the extreme cold, breaking apart.
The liquid seeped out and, in the rapidly dropping temperature, vaporized instantly.
The entire cabinet’s contents turned to gas. Unable to disperse immediately due to the cold, it concentrated in a small area. Around Yuan Que, the gas density spiked in an instant.
“Go!” Lu Xun urged.
But the moment Yuan Que inhaled it, his pupils shrank sharply.
He froze in place, unable to move.
Standing there, surrounded by white mist, his figure exuded an unsettling stillness.
“…Yuan Que?” Lu Pei asked, concerned. “What’s wrong with you?”
Within the fog, Yuan Que’s body began to sway, as if he could no longer maintain balance.
He crushed the already cracked vial in his hand.
Beneath his skin, bluish veins began to swell, rising to the surface like serpents.