He had never been able to do anything about Sui Yuesheng; it was the same ten years ago as it was now.

As summer vacation was coming to an end, Jing Ning had brought Tao Fengche into his private research room, where he described the dangers of artificial pheromones to him.

Jing Ning’s expression had been stern, and he had described it as Pandora’s box, saying it was something that absolutely should not exist in this world. Tao Fengche listened intently at the time but found it hard to fully understand.

Upon first learning about the existence of artificial pheromones, Tao Fengche even had a somewhat naive thought—if humans could freely choose their second gender, wouldn’t that be a happy thing?

Before this, he had just learned about the tragic events that had occurred to Sui Yuesheng. Given the advanced technology, as long as you connected to the internet, you were immersed in a sea of information. Tao Fengche had seen too much gender discrimination and too much harm caused by second gender issues.

Although artificial pheromones were merely a disguise and couldn’t truly change a person’s second gender, they allowed a beta who had injected the substance to be perceived as an alpha or omega by others, which was already deceitful.

At first, Tao Fengche didn’t understand this, feeling it was just self-deception. He couldn’t comprehend why those who injected it would be willing to pay such a high price for a lie. Even if they could deceive others, could they really deceive themselves? But later, after reflecting, he began to understand.

—In life, there is far too much suffering and too many circumstances beyond one’s control. After telling a lie too many times, the liar begins to believe it, living in a world woven from lies along with those around them.

To an observer, living this way might seem absurd, but in certain matters, people need to deceive themselves to continue grinding through life.

The more aware one is of their reality, the greater their pain, and avoiding that pain is human nature.

Individual choices made under the manipulation of one’s own will are not something outsiders have the right to criticize—age, gender, living conditions, and experiences differ for everyone. Each person is an independent individual; no matter how hard others try, they cannot genuinely empathize.

Tao Fengche sympathized with those betas who chose to inject artificial pheromones. He wanted to try to respect their choices, just as Zhao Jiayang and Tao Zhixing had respected Chu Yin’s choices back then.

…But artificial pheromones ultimately killed Chu Yin, and in a sense, they also took part of Zhao Jiayang’s life.

So, Tao Fengche could also understand why the Tao family had shut down their production line and collected and destroyed all artificial pheromones circulating in the market.

Two entirely different attitudes and emotions intertwined within Tao Fengche’s mind, creating an intense tug-of-war. He was reluctant to choose sides and didn’t know how to decide, yet deep down, he felt a slight sense of anticipation if artificial pheromones were restarted.

But if what he suspected was true—that the mastermind behind Liu Tianlei was Sui Yuesheng, and he had been kept in the dark, treated like a fool…

In anger, Tao Fengche also felt a bit lost—he didn’t know how to face Sui Yuesheng.

Ten years ago, when Sui Yuesheng came to the Tao family, Zhao Jiayang had taken Chu Yin to the warm Southern Hemisphere for recovery. Sui Yuesheng had no familiarity or ties with them, so he didn’t need to shut down the production line like Tao Zhixing, mourning the loss of a friend.

But it was Tao Zhixing who rescued him from the warehouse and brought him to the Tao family, giving him a new life.

The order to shut down the production line also came from Tao Zhixing.

After Tao Zhixing’s death, Sui Yuesheng had taken over the Tao family for barely four months and had already discarded Tao Zhixing’s previous commands. The speed of this change was quite alarming.

Furthermore, Tao Fengche had been to that production base and was generally aware of the situation at that “Chinese medicine factory,” which had already developed a highly mature production line. Achieving such a level of completeness in just four months would be quite difficult.

…Perhaps, even while Tao Zhixing was alive, Sui Yuesheng had already been secretly making arrangements and playing both sides, or perhaps even Tao Zhixing’s death was linked to him. Otherwise, how could he return so quickly?

After all… he was very good at deception, wasn’t he?

The old man wasn’t omnipotent; perhaps he too had moments of being deceived…?

Tao Fengche blinked, instinctively tightening his grip on the pen so much that his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he suddenly felt a pain in his chest, his wandering thoughts returning to his body. He awoke from his daze, realizing he had been holding his breath all along.

…No, he couldn’t think any further.

He tried to regain a normal breathing rhythm, threw the pen aside, and smoothed out the wrinkled paper he had clutched during his moment of distraction. He sighed deeply.

His thoughts had hit a dead end and were growing increasingly extreme. So far, there was no evidence proving that Tao Zhixing’s death was connected to Sui Yuesheng.

As for the artificial pheromones… no matter what, without having discovered the name of the recipient from Wang Yuan, even if Sui Yuesheng seemed highly suspicious, he couldn’t rush to convict him.

Even in court, defendants have the right to appeal.

Tao Fengche made a decision, picked up the paper, and rummaged in the corner of his desk for a lighter before walking into the bathroom. He crouched beside the toilet, igniting the paper with the lighter, watching the flames consume the writing, and then pressed the flush, washing the ashes down the drain.

After that, he opened the bathroom window, letting the chilly autumn breeze sweep in and carry away the lingering smoke.

After cleaning the scene, Tao Fengche changed out of his bathrobe into his pajamas and pressed the summons button.

In less than five minutes, Xu Song pushed the door open: “Young Master.”

Tao Fengche had returned to his desk, where a half-read mystery novel lay open. Hearing Xu Song’s arrival, he didn’t look up, saying, “Uncle Xu, please bring me a new phone.”

Seeing a hint of confusion in Xu Song’s gaze, he calmly explained, “I placed my phone on the shelf to listen to music while showering, and accidentally dropped it, breaking the screen.”

This was a reasonable explanation. The phone on the edge of the desk was shattered like a spider web, confirming his words. Xu Song didn’t suspect anything and nodded in agreement before leaving the room. Moments later, he placed a brand new packaging box on Tao Fengche’s desk.

—At this point, a mobile phone had become an indispensable tool, and accidents inevitably happened, leading to phone damage. The Tao family’s storage room always kept several of the latest phone models for emergencies.

Tao Fengche scanned the box but didn’t reach for it. Instead, he looked up at Xu Song and raised an eyebrow slightly: “It doesn’t have a tracking device, does it?”

“No,” Xu Song replied respectfully, looking down. “You don’t like that; your phones don’t have it either.”

Tao Fengche smirked slightly, neither affirming nor denying, simply opened the packaging and inspected the phone thoroughly in front of Xu Song, confirming there were no tracking devices or software before saying, “Hmm.”

He nodded slightly, then raised his hand and waved it, signaling Xu Song to leave.

The door was carefully closed by Xu Song, and the room returned to silence. Tao Fengche switched the SIM card to his new phone, migrated the data from his old phone, and finally restored it to factory settings.

He stared at the old phone for a while, intending to toss it directly into the trash and inform the maid to destroy it. However, at the last moment, he suddenly changed his mind. He opened a drawer in his desk and hid it in the deepest part.

…Who knows if there will be new technology to recover data? It’s safer to keep it.

He closed the drawer, tidied up his backpack, and returned to his bedroom, pulling back the curtains to look outside.

The sky was filled with dark clouds, obscuring the stars and the crescent moon on the horizon. Without the moonlight, the yard was illuminated only by the streetlights, making it appear somewhat dim. However, the guards standing watch and patrolling had increased compared to yesterday. Tao Fengche squinted towards the yard gate but didn’t see the familiar Karlmann King.

Although he had expected this, he still felt a wave of annoyance. He unconsciously licked his cracked lips and tore off a piece of dead skin with his teeth. Blood quickly oozed from the wound, pulling his attention back.

He casually licked the wound on his lip, rolled the blood bead into his mouth, then closed the curtains and turned to lie down on the bed.

A dreamless night.

….

The next morning, as expected, Tao Fengche didn’t see Sui Yuesheng at the dining table. He subtly pressed his lips together, forcing himself to finish breakfast. When he stood up to leave, he noticed three shadows following him from behind.

—Three bodyguards in the dining room moved along with him.

He turned slightly, glanced at them, and frowned. “What? Do I even need to be followed to school now?”

The leading bodyguard lowered his head, his tone respectful yet firm: “This is a critical time, please understand, young master.”

“Is this also Sui Yuesheng’s order?” Tao Fengche raised an eyebrow slightly.

He hadn’t used the affectionate term “brother” to refer to Sui Yuesheng, choosing to call him by name instead. If Xu Song hadn’t left early for the winery, he would definitely have exchanged glances with the bodyguards and said a few words to smooth things over.

Unfortunately, Xu Song wasn’t present, and these bodyguards weren’t familiar with the dynamic between Tao Fengche and Sui Yuesheng, failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation. They stood there looking troubled, unable to respond.

This was essentially a tacit agreement.

“Isn’t it enough to have a driver present?” Tao Fengche’s voice was devoid of emotion. “I’m just going to school.”

“…Young Master.” The bodyguard said no more and buried his head lower.

Tao Fengche stared at them, his lips tightly pressed together, eyes narrowing.

The surrounding atmosphere was so heavy it felt almost tangible, weighing down on everyone’s hearts. After a long pause, Tao Fengche suddenly sneered.

“Fine, if you want to follow, then follow.”

He was the first to leave the dining room.

From that moment on, he didn’t speak another word, but everyone present felt the anger contained in that silence, strong enough to steal away their breath and voices.

No one dared to breathe loudly, and even fewer dared to speak. The Maybach maintained a chilling silence all the way to the school.