Chapter 23

And… some kind of “special” disease.

If He Lilin’s home had a light luxury style and Wen Du’s was elegantly simple, then Sha Jiali’s house exuded practicality from top to bottom. The walls were pure white, unadorned by any superfluous patterns or flourishes. Even the cabinet stripes ran straight horizontally and vertically. Floral designs had no place on the furniture or wall hangings—everything was starkly clean and straightforward.

It resembled the style of a high-level intellectual: an extremely simple living environment, but a deeply complex mind within, its cortical folds akin to intricate yam patterns in ornate decor.

After they sat down, the “tongue-tied” Ji Tingxi was the first to speak, exchanging pleasantries with their host. “Professor Sha, I’ve long admired your name. I’ve read your books, and thanks to them, I once wanted to major in electronics.”

Sha Jiali naturally picked up the thread. “Did you end up fulfilling that dream?”

“In a way, I did. I got exposure to electronic communications in the Blue Training Class, though it was all very broad—nothing in depth.”

As she spoke, Ji Tingxi turned to look at Wen Du.

“Of course, we also learned about various languages in the Blue Training Class, but just their general features. I wouldn’t dare show off in front of Teacher Wen on a normal day.”

Wen Du smiled. “Miss Ji is a well-rounded talent, proficient in multiple fields. I’m sure she’ll have plenty to discuss with you today, Professor Sha. You’re a master of cross-disciplinary work yourself.”

After a brief pause, she looked at Sha Jiali. “Has your schedule loosened up lately, Professor Sha? I noticed your classes at the school have thinned out.”

Though this visit was under the guise of university colleagues, Sha Jiali knew Wen Du had a dual identity and was working for the Wei Investigation Institute. He was already on guard, and her question instantly put him fully on alert.

“You know how it is at the school, Teacher Wen. Fewer classes mean more of everything else piling up—research projects, grants, papers, collaborations. It’s a good thing you two could drop by this afternoon. I get to mooch some tea off you. Haha.”

The message was clear: no time, don’t bother me. This meeting was carved out of his busy day—don’t think I’m sitting around idle with tea. Haha.

Wen Du was pleased with his response. Even her colleague’s face wouldn’t get her through the Wei Investigation Institute’s doors—he was firmly declining to join. Perfect. That spared the Giel Organization a formidable enemy.

Though she’d mentally called off the pursuit, she still had to put on a show of insincere flattery. Wen Du played along with his words.

“I often hear students at school praising you. They say you’re fast, accurate, and ruthless with projects—not only generating economic value but also giving them real gains. Your reputation has wafted from the Electrical Academy all the way to the Language Academy. You’re a star in academic circles!”

“Hahaha. Research is my personal hobby, and mentoring students is my professional duty, so I get it done quickly. But if it’s something I’m not good at, the pace can be an eyesore. Take when I was eighteen and decided to learn cooking. Now here I am, living alone and still at risk of starving to death.”

Ji Tingxi pressed her knees together, her hands clasped loosely on her lap. She sat with a mix of formality and nonchalance, much like their conversation.

“To turn research into a hobby—that’s impressive, Professor Sha. But I heard your latest project application was rejected, no funding approved?”

Sha Jiali was a leader in electronic communications, but he loved cross-disciplinary work, like with AI and biomedicine. His recent proposal on neural signal conversion hadn’t won over the committee experts—rejected multiple times, more setbacks than his cooking career.

“Your sources are sharp. That’s true. No matter how meaningful the project, approval isn’t guaranteed. You have to consider feasibility, research conditions, funding use—miss one, and it’s dead.”

The conversation had reached the crux. Ji Tingxi pressed forward. “Conveniently, we have a lab with a project on the intersection of electronic and neural signals. Funding, team, equipment—all ready. It just needs a lead researcher. Any interest in learning more, Professor Sha?”

The Wei Investigation Institute had gone all out to lure Sha Jiali, coordinating with the North County Station to assemble everything the lab needed. Once inside, he’d face no constraints or bureaucratic hassles.

The temptation was immense. Sha Jiali’s usual firmness wavered—he didn’t reject outright but fell silent, mulling it over. Just then, laughter rang out from the living room, clear and bright.

Wen Du first thought it was his phone ringtone. But a blink later, a little girl came bounding and skipping to the sofa’s edge. Her frilly skirt bounced with excess energy, revealing white stockings on her legs embroidered with butterfly wings.

The girl’s arrival derailed the topic, drawing everyone’s eyes. Wen Du was startled— she’d never heard Sha Jiali had a granddaughter. Were there other guests today?

Why hadn’t he mentioned it?

But the next moment, realization dawned. This girl was neither granddaughter nor guest.

“No manners! Running around like that, and not even greeting the visitors!”

Hearing the old man’s scolding, the girl straightened up from the sofa, smoothed her twin tails as best she could, and waved enthusiastically. “Hello, aunties! What would you like to drink? I’ll have Sister Miu make it.”

The girl had an endearing figure and a passable face. Her naturally curly hair sprang at the ends like coiled springs, topped with straight bangs. But her eyebrows were unusually thick, peeking boldly from under the fringe. Her nose bridge was softly rounded, like it was molded from white rabbit milk candy.

Once Wen Du took in her features, her surprise turned to horror.

This girl was Sern. By rights, she should be at the Sern School. What was she doing in Sha Jiali’s home?

“Her name’s Duo Er. She’s our new hire. Don’t let the size fool you—she works fast. Right, Duo Er?”

Sha Jiali grinned, his chin whiskers twitching upward. To affirm his employee, he reached out with a large hand and gave Duo Er’s bottom a light pat over her frilly skirt.

The slap landed, and Duo Er beamed as if richly rewarded. Her permanent teeth weren’t all in yet; gaps showed pink gums beneath.

A jolt like electricity shot through Wen Du’s scalp, exploding outward. She forced her cheek muscles high in a smile, watching the harmonious master-servant pair.

The puzzle solved itself: why was a school-age Sern child here on a school day?

So young, and already working—and it went beyond mere labor.

Ji Tingxi sat up straighter and teased her. “Honey water sounds good. Go make it with Sister Miu. I’ll see if it passes muster.”

Duo Er scampered off at the command, her frilly skirt shaking like she was on a trampoline.

With her departure, the living room’s atmosphere mixed politeness with a strange undercurrent.

After a moment’s silence, Wen Du resumed chatting idly with Sha Jiali, like everyday university banter, easing the faint awkwardness.

Soon, the honey water arrived—not borne by Duo Er, but by her “Sister Miu.”

Unlike Duo Er, Yuan Miu was utterly quiet. She glided in without a sound, like a breeze, placing the honey water on the coffee table along with a two-tiered snack stand laden with fruit and treats.

After Duo Er’s whirlwind entrance, Wen Du paid extra attention to Yuan Miu. Her face was pallid, cheeks devoid of any smile or welcome for guests. Her movements were stiff as she handled the glasses and plates, elbows tight like over-wound screws. As she set them down, her arms stretched long, tugging her sleeves to reveal a section of wrist bone.

Wen Du glanced swiftly and spotted patches of purple-red on her wrist—clear signs of capillary bleeding, pooled under the skin from prolonged, forceful constriction.

Still talking with Sha Jiali, Wen Du flicked her eyes back, admiration in her gaze. But the image reflected in her pupils had shifted hue—from a colleague’s warmth and respect for his stature to cold professionalism. Any hint of personal sentiment now felt wrong.

They sipped the honey water, ate the fruit, chatted casually. With rapport building, Ji Tingxi warmed up the lab topic again with their host.

Wen Du excused herself to the bathroom and slipped toward the kitchen entrance, where Yuan Miu had vanished. She approached quietly and found her there, facing the window, head down, doing something.

“Any extra bowls?”

“Yes,” Yuan Miu replied hastily, fumbling to pull one from the cabinet. “Here you go!”

While she grabbed the bowl, Wen Du narrowed her eyes at the medicine box, making out the label: a broad-spectrum antibiotic.

It treated various ailments—typhoid, mycoplasma infections, chlamydia, and… some kind of special disease.

Putting the clues together, Wen Du formed her judgment. She lowered her lashes, took a deep breath to steady her emotions, and accepted the porcelain bowl.

“Thank you.”