Tao Fengche spoke the answer he had long prepared: “In an abandoned factory.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jing Ning wanted to ask for more details, but Tao Fengche did not give him the opportunity.

“In fact, I have another question for you,” Tao Fengche quickly changed the topic. “The researchers who disappeared from the institute, they weren’t actually sent out on assignments, were they?”

He still vividly remembered the answer Jing Ning had given more than a month ago. At the time, he didn’t think much of it, but after walking around the institute today, he keenly sensed that something was off.

—The missing researchers belonged to different project teams, and their work varied greatly. Those in key positions being sent to production bases as advisors seemed like a waste of talent; while those whose work was less important, especially the intern who Tao Fengche himself could easily replace, weren’t qualified to oversee an entire production base.

As for Wu Xuan, who was supposedly sent to the Western Continent, he was the most suspicious. Initially, Tao Fengche thought he was participating in a training program organized by the institute, but during a casual chat with other researchers over lunch today, he unexpectedly learned some details.

An alpha, who apparently had a long-standing grudge against Wu Xuan, took the opportunity to badmouth him: “That kid Wu Xuan really lucked out. He left right after work that morning and never returned to the company. It’s said he went abroad for further studies. What kind of training program could there be at this time? I haven’t heard of any. No wonder Director Jing values him so much; he’s a beta but gets treated like royalty…”

The alpha continued to grumble about Wu Xuan’s special treatment, but Tao Fengche felt that the truth wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

Especially after Jing Ning said that “artificial pheromones should have long disappeared from the world.”

So Tao Fengche turned his gaze to Jing Ning and asked this question with complete certainty.

Jing Ning was visibly shocked. He hadn’t expected Tao Fengche to figure this out. But now that the other party knew about the top-secret artificial pheromones, there was no point in hiding it anymore. He admitted, “Yes, some people in the institute were bribed by the Red Gang and secretly took the research materials out. The reason you weren’t allowed to come after your father’s funeral was because we were dealing with this matter.”

Tao Fengche tilted his head slightly.

His face showed no emotion, not even a hint of joy or anger; he could almost be described as calm. But Jing Ning knew very well that from the moment Tao Fengche asked that question, the dynamics between them had quietly shifted—Tao Fengche was clearly in a superior position.

He was now speaking to him not as his student, nor as an intern researcher, but as the future heir of the Tao family, or rather, as a holder of 25% of the Tao family’s shares.

Whether he would pursue accountability depended on whether Jing Ning could provide an answer that satisfied him.

Although Tao Fengche was still an underage alpha and the current head of the Tao family was Sui Yuesheng, under such an intimidating aura, Jing Ning did not dare to show any negligence. He lowered his head slightly, subtly declaring his compliance, “There were too many things going on at the time, and Young master Sui had already handled it. Besides, you still had your studies, so we didn’t mention it to you.”

Tao Fengche nodded.

This answer was within his expectations. As soon as Sui Yuesheng appeared at the mourning hall, he realized that these two must have a close relationship. Thinking back now, even the mysterious disappearance of Sui Yuesheng’s pheromones might have been the handiwork of Director Jing.

Moreover, he wasn’t asking this question to assign blame. He merely wanted to confirm a suspicion, and now he finally understood how Liu Tianlei managed to produce artificial pheromones.

The answer was simple—those traitorous researchers had copied the production data for him. With the formula in hand and no shortage of machinery at the production base, it wasn’t difficult for Liu Tianlei, who had been the head of the base for nearly ten years, to obtain the raw materials.

Sui Yuesheng had been extremely busy lately, with dozens of production bases under the Tao family just in Kyushu alone. It was no surprise that he hadn’t noticed this sooner.

…However, there was no need to tell Sui Yuesheng about this now.

He was currently in the Western Continent and was rushing to return to the country before September; he was already busy enough. There was no need to trouble him with such a minor matter.

What’s more, Tao Fengche was eager to achieve something, to prove to Sui Yuesheng that he had grown up and was no longer the little kid who needed to live under his protection but was an alpha on equal footing with him.

He no longer wanted to maintain a “guardian” and “kid” relationship with Sui Yuesheng. Only by making Sui Yuesheng realize his growth would he have a chance to pursue him.

Even if that chance was as elusive as a flower in the water or the moon in the mirror, he still wanted to chase it.

In an instant, Tao Fengche made up his mind. He looked at Jing Ning, his eyes carrying a hint of warning, “Don’t tell my brother about this; I have other plans.”

“Alright.” Jing Ning didn’t know what he was thinking, but two seconds later, he uttered a vague response.

Tao Fengche had no intention of probing further into Jing Ning’s thoughts. He looked up at the clock on the wall, preparing to take his leave.

Having suddenly learned so much information today, he needed some time to sort out his thoughts. Besides, it was much later than usual, and if the driver couldn’t reach him for a while, he would immediately notify Xu Song. If the latter got worried and contacted Sui Yuesheng…

Things could get tricky.

But Jing Ning wasn’t planning to let him go so easily. He hesitated for a long time before finally speaking, “Don’t blame him.”

The remark was vague, but both understood the meaning and who “he” referred to.

In the next moment, Tao Fengche’s brow furrowed deeply, filled with displeasure.

The person was already gone; whether to blame or resent was meaningless. He had finally decided not to dwell on this matter anymore and was focused on figuring out how to deal with Liu Tianlei and who the mastermind was, but Jing Ning had to bring up old issues.

Why couldn’t he let it go?

Tao Fengche, a bit annoyed, said, “Then why did he keep it from me all along?”

He finally asked the question out loud.

It didn’t feel good to be kept in the dark, especially by someone he regarded as family. After learning the true gender of Chu Yin, Tao Fengche felt like a fool who had been completely deceived. His heart was full of grievance, but he didn’t know whom to vent it to.

Chu Yin, being directly involved, was no longer alive; Tao Zhixing had also died unexpectedly, and as for Zhao Jiayang… Tao Fengche couldn’t bear to mention Chu Yin in front of him.

His uncle was already grieving enough; why bring up the past to touch his festering, unhealed wound?

“Because…” Jing Ning’s face briefly showed a flash of pain, “Chu Yin didn’t want you to know, or rather, Chu Yin didn’t want anyone to know.”

“He sincerely wished he could be an omega.” So all who knew the truth were willing to play along in this act.

Jing Ning looked at Tao Fengche, his eyes filled with swirling emotions. Tao Fengche was almost overwhelmed by the tangible sadness. He involuntarily held his breath, and the next second, a shocking thought crossed his mind—

“Director Jing, did you… like him?”

It was an abrupt utterance, but Jing Ning’s expression changed dramatically, and Tao Fengche immediately realized he had said something wrong.

Probing into others’ romantic feelings wasn’t in line with his upbringing, especially considering the subjects were Jing Ning, whom he regarded as a mentor, and his aunt.

“I didn’t mean it that way…” He was a bit embarrassed, regretting why he had been so foolish as to ask that question. He tried to explain, but he didn’t know what to say. Everything he tried seemed to make it worse, and he finally sighed in frustration.

Tao Fengche gave up on explaining and looked at Jing Ning with a hint of apology in his eyes.

Fortunately, Jing Ning didn’t seem inclined to argue with this rash, underage alpha. He smiled faintly and glanced at the clock on the wall, “Alright, it’s getting late. You should head back, and remember to come on time tomorrow.”

This transition was quite abrupt, but for Tao Fengche, it was like a great relief. He immediately seized the opportunity and turned to leave in haste. Though he tried to maintain a composed appearance, his steps grew quicker, as if a beast was chasing him relentlessly from behind.

Jing Ning watched his retreating figure and couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

In the next moment, Jing Ning took a few steps toward the exit but didn’t hurry out. Instead, he reached out and closed the laboratory door.

In the ensuing silence, he returned to the hidden compartment once more.

It had been a long time since he had thought about Chu Yin, considering their relationship wasn’t particularly deep. As for Tao Fengche’s question…

He pondered for a moment, then suddenly smiled in self-mockery.

Did he like him?

Jing Ning had never considered this question before. He felt a bit surprised when Tao Fengche asked him, but now, as he quietly pondered over it, he still couldn’t figure it out.

To him, Chu Yin was the complete opposite.

Jing Ning was born into a middle-class family that never worried about food or drink, but his family was always concerned about a decline in their social status. Fortunately, he was smart enough and determined enough to succeed. As a beta, he carved a path for himself among countless alphas, joining the Tao Corporation with his outstanding performance and eventually securing the position of the head of the research institute.

This was an unprecedented achievement.

He never felt that being a beta was something shameful. It was the alphas who were inferior to him who should feel ashamed. Now that he was in this position, there weren’t many alphas stronger than him left, so Jing Ning had always been comfortable with his own gender.

But Chu Yin was different.

He was physically weak, always reclusive, with an astonishingly narrow social circle. He fervently longed to become an omega, and it could be said that he had a deep-seated hatred for his own gender.

His obsession was so intense and heavy that it was like a moth flying into a flame, making Jing Ning, as an observer, feel a burning pain just from watching.

Jing Ning had met many betas—most were ordinary and insignificant—but he had also encountered a few exceptional ones during his school days. However, Chu Yin was one of a kind.

He was so fragile, yet so stubborn. Jing Ning didn’t understand what he was thinking, but he couldn’t help being drawn to him.

He had never met someone like this before.

Chu Yin maintained a routine of coming to the research institute once a month to inject artificial pheromones. At first, when Jing Ning was just a researcher, this task naturally fell to him. But even after he became the head of the institute and no longer needed to handle such minor tasks, he never delegated this matter to anyone else.

Over time, the two could be considered familiar with each other. Occasionally, Chu Yin would share some trivial matters from his life, but Jing Ning could never understand him.

Even now, when he asked himself honestly, he still didn’t understand his feelings for Chu Yin.

…Was it shock? Pity? Or, as Tao Fengche suggested, was it a love he himself had not realized?

All these emotions intertwined; if one were to describe them simply as “love,” it would seem too superficial.

Jing Ning stared intently at the hidden compartment, analyzing his own psychology without any reservation, his face cold.

Chu Yin had been gone for two years, and Jing Ning still hadn’t figured it out. But the one thing he was sure of was that he would never forget him in this lifetime.

With these thoughts in mind, he slowly closed his eyes, feeling as if Chu Yin’s face was once again right in front of him.

It was a bright, sunny day. He had just joined the experimental team and was about to meet this patient, feeling a bit uneasy. He had just pushed the door open with a file in his hands when he saw a figure sitting in a chair.

That person was wearing a white shirt, with soft-looking brown hair. Hearing the noise, he turned around and gave a polite smile: “Hello, you must be the new beta researcher? I’m Chu Yin.”

The sunlight was so good that day, casting a faint golden glow over him. Jing Ning had an excellent memory, so this scene remained vividly in his mind for many years.