Omg, you guys!! ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )

Thank you so much, Yartizt & Mystic, for the ko-fis!!! :blobaww:

Enjoy the bonus chapters!

District Seven had officially entered deep winter.

On the night of his official divorce from Xi Xianqing, Zhu Ming had a heartfelt conversation with Zhu Yingying in the living room—something they had never done before.

Zhu Yingying still found it hard to believe that the marriage had only been a contractual arrangement. At the same time, she began reflecting on her own actions. “If I hadn’t forced you to go on blind dates back then, would you have never gotten into a fake marriage? And then you wouldn’t have ended up with Xiao Xi…”

“No.” Zhu Ming shook his head. “I wasn’t particularly keen on blind dates, but I didn’t oppose them either. At the time, I wanted to get married mostly so that you would let me go and move on with your life.”

Zhu Yingying couldn’t say anything.

“But…” She gazed at the dining table in front of her, recalling the last dinner she had shared with Xi Xianqing. The little rabbit at her feet still drooped its ears. “Was there really not even a little bit of genuine emotion between you and Xiao Xi? Was it really just…”

She looked at the expression on Zhu Ming’s face. In the end, she swallowed the rest of her words, letting out a barely audible sigh instead.

Life gradually returned to normal. During this time, for the first time in his life, Zhu Ming actively followed the news.

Apart from the occasional discussion post speculating about the reasons for their divorce, everything was considered calm.

No news was the best news for Zhu Ming—it meant that at the very least, Xi Xianqing was undergoing his assessment steadily, without any unexpected incidents.

At first, Zhu Ming felt relieved, but soon after, an emptiness settled over him.

First was a physical emptiness—now that the contract had ended, his role as a private doctor had also come to an end. He returned to his stable, routine, yet monotonous daily schedule of live broadcast consultations.

Then came the psychological emptiness—Zhu Ming had a rough idea of its cause and knew that there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He understood that he needed to find something to distract himself, something to fill the void in every sense.

On a bright and sunny winter morning, Zhu Ming and Zhou Zhou appeared at the entrance of the Life Sciences Academy at K University.

Zhu Ming had given Qian Duo a heads-up in advance: “I can meet your mentor and take a quick tour of the lab, but don’t get your hopes up, and don’t make too much of a fuss.”

Qian Duo’s reply was filled with exclamation marks, almost covering the entire screen: “No problem!!! Professor Zhu!!! I’ll keep everything as simple as possible!!!”

The day before heading to K University, Zhu Ming made a somewhat immature and dangerous decision—he wanted to tour Qian Duo’s lab entirely on foot, in perfect health, fulfilling a small personal wish.

But his legs had only recently recovered. No matter how frequently he had been doing rehabilitation exercises, moving as freely as a normal person was still difficult. So, he called Zhou Zhou to be his physical crutch.

Now, standing in the hallway, Zhu Ming contemplatively stared at the red carpet stretching all the way to the lab entrance. “…This is what you call keeping things simple?”

Qian Duo let out a ‘hehe’. “My mentor insisted. I couldn’t stop him. This way, Professor Zhu.”

Qian Duo’s lab team wasn’t particularly large. His mentor, Liu Kuan, was a middle-aged man with a round belly and an honest, good-natured demeanor. His spiritual manifestation was an equally round capybara.

The two post-doctoral researchers had a bamboo rat and a beaver as their spiritual manifestation, while undergraduate Qian Duo’s spiritual manifestation was a guinea pig. The entire room was filled with rodent-type creatures, each one staring eagerly at Zhu Ming’s face.

At first glance, the team seemed like an odd bunch, but after the tour, Zhou Zhou couldn’t help but marvel, “Not to mention the other things, but the brands and models of these instruments… they’re really top-tier ah.”

Zhu Ming nodded thoughtfully. “Small, specialized teams often have fewer internal conflicts. As long as the team members are capable and the funding for equipment keeps up, they can sometimes rival the output of much larger groups.”

Liu Kuan, Qian Duo’s mentor, was a traditional District Seven researcher with a deep passion for scientific inquiry.

With great enthusiasm, Liu Kuan introduced his future plans to Zhu Ming. “Over the past few years, we’ve expanded from studying rodent-type spiritual manifestation abnormalities to broader fields. We’ve been steadily accumulating promising research topics, aiming to compete in the next Chief Researcher selection. Our goal is to win the position and prove to the world that even small research groups can achieve great things!”

Zhu Ming: “…You all really dare to dream ah.”

After the tour, Liu Kuan spoke with great tact. “If you were to join us, it would be our greatest honor. But if you don’t, we, we will—”

Behind him, the round capybara swayed unsteadily, making Zhu Ming feel as if Liu Kuan had originally wanted to say, ‘We’ll just die to show you.’

Liu Kuan sniffled and finally said, “We’ll keep working hard regardless.”

Zhu Ming almost wanted to laugh.

Though this lab had fewer people than some technicians employed by certain popular large groups, their passion for their field was undeniably genuine.

Of course, Zhu Ming didn’t actually believe in the big pie they drew, let alone something as far-fetched pie as the Chief Researcher election. But he did somewhat miss the feeling of throwing himself wholeheartedly into a field, focusing entirely on one thing with unwavering dedication.

“I need some time to think about it,” he said.

Liu Kuan and Qian Duo’s eyes lit up instantly. Their voices trembled with excitement as they hurriedly agreed.

Thus, despite Zhu Ming’s hundred refusals, they insisted on seeing him off when he left the lab.

Upon reaching the elevator, they found an “Under Maintenance” sign standing in front of the doors, which had been functioning just moments ago. With no other choice, they headed for the stairwell instead.

Although Zhu Ming’s legs had mostly recovered, he was still at a stage where he had to catch his breath every ten steps. Movements like going up and down stairs were still daunting challenges for him.

He had barely made it down two steps when he vaguely heard some noise from below—another group of people, seemingly also unable to take the elevator, was coming upstairs.

At first, Zhu Ming paid no attention, because he was struggling to get down the stairs with the help of Zhou Zhou as a human crutch and he was too focused on carefully watching his footing, lest he misstep and fall flat on his face—

But in the next instant, he felt Zhou Zhou’s grip on his arm suddenly tightened.

Zhu Ming furrowed his brows in pain and looked up, just about to ask what had gotten into this kid all of a sudden.

—But following Zhou Zhou’s dazed gaze, he abruptly locked eyes with a pair of familiar, deep, and indifferent dark green eyes.

Below the stairs, surrounded by a group of people, Xi Xianqing looked in Zhu Ming’s direction, his gaze dark and heavy.

Behind him, Ye Lu was holding a toolbox. Seeing Zhu Ming similarly surrounded by people on the stairs, she was momentarily startled.

A woman wearing a research institute badge stood beside Xi Xianqing, softly explaining something to him.

It was a long moment before Xi Xianqing finally gave a slight nod in response. But those eyes, dark as inkstone, remained fixed on Zhu Ming’s face with a detached gaze.

Zhu Ming’s expression didn’t change much. He tried to meet the gaze as calmly as possible—but he knew that if Zhou Zhou weren’t supporting him, even standing steadily right now would be a struggle.

One group wanted to go downstairs, the other was heading up. At this moment, they found themselves awkwardly meeting on the same flight of stairs.

After a long pause, Zhu Ming was the first to look away. He shifted slightly to the side, making way for them.

Xi Xianqing withdrew his gaze instantly as well, following the person leading him forward, brushing past Zhu Ming as they passed.

Not once did his eyes shift even the slightest bit in Zhu Ming’s direction.

Behind him, Ye Lu’s expression was somewhat complicated. She took the initiative to nod at Zhu Ming and called out, “Xiao Zhu.”

Zhu Ming lowered his gaze and nodded slightly, replying softly, “Aunt Ye.”

After passing by Zhu Ming, Xi Xianqing continued heading upstairs, and Ye Lu followed suit. It was only after a long while that Zhu Ming turned back around and, with Zhou Zhou’s support, resumed his descent.

Perhaps it was the difficulty of descending stairs, which required careful balance, or perhaps it was the unrest in Zhu Ming’s own heart—just as he lifted his leg to step down another stair, his knee suddenly buckled without a sound, and he stumbled slightly forward!

Zhou Zhou quickly grabbed him with a sharp pull, his voice nearly breaking in panic. “Zhu-ge, watch your step! Be careful!”

Liu Kuan and Qian Duo, who were descending behind Zhu Ming, were also terrified by the sight. Both instinctively reached out to support his shoulders. “Professor Zhu, watch out—”

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the stairwell. Tiny dust particles floated in the air, and in that instant, countless hands reached out toward Zhu Ming.

Qian Duo’s. Liu Kuan’s. Zhou Zhou’s.

—And a pair of long, strong hands with well-defined joints.

Zhu Ming steadied himself, breathing heavily. He was momentarily stunned, his gaze trailing upward from that unfamiliar yet familiar hand—inch by inch—until it finally landed on Xi Xianqing’s face.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Xi Xianqing, who had just brushed past him had, at some point, turned back. His brows were tightly furrowed, and at the moment Zhu Ming was about to fall, he had instinctively reached out his hand.

The moment he met Zhu Ming’s line of sight, Xi Xianqing’s body suddenly stiffened.

Almost instantly, he withdrew his hand, his movements rigid as he averted his gaze. Then, he turned away sharply, standing still for a brief moment with his back to Zhu Ming.

A few seconds later, Zhu Ming saw him lift his leg again and continue walking up the stairs without looking back.

The two groups slowly moved in opposite directions. The space around them opened up once more, and Liu Kuan’s slightly anxious voice sounded in Zhu Ming’s ear. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you, Professor Zhu?”

It took Zhu Ming a long moment to gather himself. He shook his head lightly and replied in a soft voice, “I’m fine.”

“Please take a short rest here first, both of you.”

Qu He led them into a conference room and said warmly, “Professor Qin’s meeting will be over shortly. He’ll come directly to see you then.”

Xi Xianqing stood at the door for a long time without responding. Qu He, slightly puzzled, asked again, “Mr. Xi?”

As if snapping out of distraction, Xi Xianqing finally replied, “Alright, thank you.”

Qu He bowed slightly and gently closed the door before leaving the conference room with the others.

Standing at the back, Ye Lu gazed at Xi Xianqing’s silent figure, shook her head, and let out a quiet sigh in her heart.

Right next to the conference room was a pantry room. Through the gaps in the blinds, a man and a woman could be vaguely seen standing at the entrance, brewing tea.

The wall’s soundproofing was mediocre, so their conversation carried over rather clearly.

A man sighed. “Unbelievable. Every day, from 9 a.m. to 11 p.m., not even a second to catch my breath… Maybe the only real break I’ll get is when I finally drop dead in this building.”

A concerned young woman’s voice followed, “What’s wrong, Senior? Don’t tell me… he denied your leave request again?”

The man let out a cold chuckle. “Of course. Our dear Professor Qin is a master of silent coercion—pressing a blade of gentle persuasion to your throat while he wrings every last bit of value out of you until you’re squeezed to the dregs.”

He sighed again. “Forget it. I’ll check on the experiment results later. If they’re decent, maybe I’ll try asking again… Aiya, this migraine of mine ah. If I don’t see a doctor soon, it’s going to torture me to death. I can’t even get a good night’s sleep anymore ah!”

“Should we ask Senior Ruan Min?”

The young woman hesitated. “I remember he’s really easy to talk to. He even covered two experiments for me before. He’s also on good terms with Professor Qin—maybe he can help you smooth things over and get your leave approved?”

“Ruan Min? As if his words are of any use.”

The man sounded like he had just heard something utterly ridiculous. “Sure, he’s got that shiny ‘Chief Researcher’ title, but everyone in this lab knows he’s just a pathetic puppet—nothing more than a tool for Qin Weisheng to fulfill his grand slam ambitions.”

Upon hearing this, not only did the girl outside the door fall silent, but even Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu inside the conference room were momentarily stunned.

“Carrying a title that doesn’t match his true capabilities, enduring the scorn of others every day, I’ve got to admire his endurance ah.”

The man let out a mocking laugh. “But isn’t he just lucky? Back then, the competition for the Chief position was full of geniuses, yet he didn’t even have to move a toe—his wonderful mentor took care of his rivals one by one for him.”

He took a sip of water and chuckled. “Aiya, and don’t even get me started on that perfect-score medical exam candidate from T University back in the day. You wouldn’t believe…”

Xi Xianqing’s shoulders shook violently and he raised his head violently.

“Senior, keep your voice down…” The girl hastily lowered her volume in alarm. “Did you forget what happened to that senior sister from next door who talked about reporting Professor Qin…”

The man seemed to recall something and let out a heavy sigh. “Ai, I know, I know. Forget it, I’ll skip lunch and finish processing that data first…”

Their voices gradually faded away.

Inside the conference room, Xi Xianqing’s pupils quivered, and a sharp ringing filled his eardrums. The moment he heard the phrase “T University medical exam perfect score,” it was as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice, forming jagged spikes that stabbed into his lungs, making each breath icy cold.

Two sudden knocks on the door shattered his thoughts.

After a brief pause, Xi Xianqing steadied his voice, suppressing the tremor beneath it. “…Come in.”

The door swung open from the outside, revealing Qin Weisheng’s face, wearing a faintly apologetic expression.

“Apologies ah, Mr. Xiao Xi, I ran into a few students on my way here and got caught up answering their questions—hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?” he asked.

His face was refined and scholarly, with a warm smile, his words polished and courteous.

“The soundproofing in this conference room has always been poor. With students coming and going, it’s not quite appropriate.”

As he spoke, he smiled and pushed the door open. “If it’s convenient, let’s move to my office for a more private discussion.”

Author’s notes:

Hello, everyone!

I know that some people enjoy a bit of sourness in a story, while others prefer pure sweetness. Stepping out of my comfort zone of writing only fluffy content took a lot of courage for me. Both of my babies have their flaws and emotional knots to untangle, and they both need to grow. No matter what, I truly appreciate everyone who has read this far. ^_^

That being said! Please refrain from mentioning unrelated characters from other works in the comments or comparing them to mine ha. (Doing so feels a bit disrespectful to both me and the characters I’ve written.) If I see such comments, I will delete them. Thank you for understanding.

And finally—can I get some little starfish? Hehe!