A catastrophic explosion seemed to have occurred in Tao Fengche’s brain, leaving no trace of life and destroying every single brain cell, rendering him completely incapable of understanding anything.

It took him quite a while to rebuild his thoughts from the wreckage, like restoring a demolished site, and then, like a long-neglected, malfunctioning machine, he struggled to process the sentence he had just heard. After much effort, he finally managed to digest it. Following that, he spent quite a bit of time regaining control of his tongue—a usually obedient organ that today felt as if it had regressed to his infant days, refusing to follow commands.

Director Jing, who was normally impatient, maintained an unusual patience at this moment. He quietly observed Tao Fengche from beginning to end without urging him to speak.

“Auntie, what I mean is, did Chu Yin… did he die because of the artificial pheromones?” Tao Fengche stammered.

Jing Ning nodded. “In a sense, yes.”

Tao Fengche instinctively gasped. The temperature in Jing Ning’s private laboratory was set very low, and the cold air swirled through his lungs before being exhaled without having warmed up.

Perhaps the extreme cold had a calming effect. Tao Fengche shivered and, when he spoke again, appeared much more composed than before. “He was always weak and sickly. Was it due to natural reasons, or because of the artificial pheromones?”

He looked up at Jing Ning, his eyes sharp, and his words were almost brutally rational.

Under such a gaze, one could easily feel intimidated, as if being stared down by a predator. However, Director Jing was no ordinary person; he shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t look at me like that. Chu Yin was your grandfather’s adopted son, raised in your family since childhood. Do you think I could have access to the family members’ medical reports from childhood?” Jing Ning retorted.

Before Tao Fengche could respond, he continued, “When I first met him, he had already been using the pheromones for some time, and I was just an ordinary researcher back then.”

Jing Ning’s speech sped up, but then abruptly stopped. For a long moment, he said nothing more. He avoided eye contact with Tao Fengche, shifting his gaze to the floor, while his fingers began tapping rapidly on the lab table.

He looked very anxious, his expression growing impatient. After a long pause, he lifted his head again but still avoided looking directly at Tao Fengche, instead staring at the wall behind him.

It was an unconscious act of evasion. Tao Fengche squinted slightly.

Then Jing Ning spoke, almost in a whisper. “I tried to persuade him.”

“I tried to persuade him,” he repeated the phrase over and over, as if in a trance.

Tao Fengche frowned slightly, puzzled. He couldn’t understand why such a deep sorrow had suddenly washed over Jing Ning, a sorrow so intense that it felt like witnessing a tsunami.

Yet he had never heard Chu Yin mention any special connection between him and Jing Ning

…Could this be some sort of beta solidarity? That was the only guess Tao Fengche could make.

Finally, Jing Ning seemed to gather himself, as if drawing some courage from his whispered words. He repeated, “I tried to persuade him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Artificial pheromones have a significant impact on lifespan, especially given his already poor health. I advised him many times to stop or at least reduce the frequency of injections. He was an introvert, rarely needing to appear in public, and those closest to him already knew his true gender. There was no point in maintaining such a high injection frequency.”

“But he was the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Jing Ning’s voice turned icy. “And so, in the end, the avalanche came.”

He used “avalanche” as a metaphor for Chu Yin’s death.

The year Chu Yin died, Tao Fengche was sixteen. He vividly remembered how Chu Yin’s health suddenly declined, as if a ravenous beast had taken residence in his body, feeding on his life force.

His condition deteriorated rapidly. Zhao Jiayang and Tao Zhixing teamed up, bringing in the best medical team from around the world, sparing no expense to try and snatch his life back from death’s grip…

They gave it their all, but in the end, they failed miserably.

For a long time, Jing Ning remained silent, the pain on his face too obvious to ignore. Tao Fengche studied him quietly, beginning to think that they might indeed have been friends.

The kind of friends who, despite rarely being in touch, always kept each other in their hearts.

Speaking at this moment felt heartless, but Tao Fengche couldn’t just watch Jing Ning remain silent. He finally became the one to break the silence. “So this drug disappeared from the market because of Chu Yin?”

He had unknowingly started referring to Chu Yin by name instead of using “aunt,” though he didn’t understand why he did so.

“I think so. But I’ve never been able to confirm it,” Jing Ning sighed, rubbing his temples, his voice sounding weary. “About two years ago, did you see your father and Zhao Jiayang arguing?”

He finally looked at Tao Fengche again, and this time, the desperation and longing in his gaze almost scorched Tao Fengche, making him avert his eyes and switch focus to something else.

…Two years, two years ago… Tao Fengche frowned slightly, searching his memory.

Zhao Jiayang and Tao Zhixing were childhood friends who had gone through countless situations together. They had always treated each other like brothers, even closer than real siblings, but if they ever argued…

There was indeed one time! Tao Fengche’s eyes widened.

At the time, the school had organized a competition, and he returned home later than usual, just in time to witness the scene.

As soon as he entered, Tao Fengche sensed something was off and asked Xu Song if they had any guests. When Xu Song replied that Uncle Zhao was there, Tao Fengche found it odd.

Chu Yin’s condition had already worsened by then, and he was staying in the ICU, hooked up to all sorts of machines, frequently needing emergency surgery. Ever since Chu Yin had been hospitalized, Zhao Jiayang had stayed by his side day and night, always ready to sign the endless stream of critical condition notices.

Tao Fengche couldn’t understand why his uncle would be home at that time, but as he headed upstairs, he suddenly heard loud arguing.

The soundproofing in the main house’s study was excellent. Tao Zhixing had once dealt with a traitor there, and it wasn’t until the bloodied person was dragged out and the place cleaned up that Tao Fengche even realized what had happened. Yet that day’s argument was so loud that he could hear it while standing on the stairs.

Although he couldn’t make out the details of the argument, he became worried and, instead of going to his room to do homework as planned, he changed direction and headed for the third floor. Just then, the walnut door was forcefully pushed open, and Zhao Jiayang stormed out, looking like an enraged yet dejected lion, his face full of anger as he rushed down the stairs like a whirlwind, not even acknowledging him.

Tao Fengche was startled, watching Zhao Jiayang’s retreating figure in uneasy silence, unsure whether to follow his instincts and continue upward or retreat.

In the end, curiosity overcame fear. He tiptoed upstairs, took a deep breath, and peeked into the study—

It was a complete mess.

Tao Zhixing was old-fashioned and had a passion for antiques. He had recently bought an inkstone at an auction, which he had kept on his desk. Now, that once-cherished treasure lay shattered on the floor, along with several other valuable items, as if a war had taken place.

Tao Zhixing was leaning back in the redwood chair with his eyes closed, his expression both cold and weary.

Tao Fengche had excellent eyesight, and at a glance, he spotted the Glock lying beside his father’s hand, causing his heart to skip a beat.

How did things escalate to the point where a gun was involved?!

This was definitely not a good time for questions. Tao Fengche had no interest in provoking his father, so he immediately turned to leave. However, Tao Zhixing, who had already noticed his presence, called out, “You’re back?”

“Yes,” Tao Fengche replied, knowing he couldn’t avoid it. He turned his head and greeted him, albeit reluctantly, “Dad, have you eaten?”

Ever since Chu Yin fell ill, Zhao Jiayang had completely abandoned his responsibilities, leaving everything to Tao Zhixing. It had been quite a while since Tao Fengche had seen his father.

“Yes, did your uncle leave?”

“He left,” Tao Fengche answered honestly, “I just saw him going downstairs when I was coming up.”

Tao Zhixing nodded in silence.

He didn’t seem inclined to say more, but recalling Zhao Jiayang’s earlier expression and the state of the study, which looked as if a storm had swept through, Tao Fengche couldn’t help but feel a gnawing curiosity. After pondering for a while and carefully choosing his words, he cautiously asked, “What… exactly happened?”

“Chu Yin is ill, and your uncle got too worried, acting impulsively.” Tao Zhixing kept his explanation brief and didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he turned the conversation to Tao Fengche’s studies.

Tao Fengche was perceptive enough to know when not to push for more. After giving straightforward answers, he returned to his room to do his homework.

If it was just a quarrel, the only reason Tao Fengche could think of was this, but he hadn’t heard any details of their argument and didn’t feel he could offer Jing Ning much help.

Still, he summarized the situation in a few words.

Jing Ning pondered for a moment. “Then I guess I was right.”

He nodded toward the direction of a hidden compartment. “Anyway, the end result was that this thing was completely banned. All circulating items were pulled from the market, and the Tao family cut off this entire line of business, sealing this Pandora’s box with a firm hand.”

He looked at Tao Fengche, his gaze clear and sharp, devoid of the emotions he’d had while recalling earlier events, appearing particularly calm yet sharp. “So, where did you get this thing?”