The three dogs were returned to You Qi and sent to the kennel to entertain themselves.

“So, are you really going to get engaged to that guy?” You Qi carefully stuck a diamond onto his fingernail while probing for gossip about Luo Lin. “Chu Chen—that guy is a top scientist, you know.”

“So what if he’s a top scientist? Am I not good enough for him?” Luo Lin was already familiar with You Qi’s place. He grabbed a cup of ice, poured himself some cola, and took a sip—his go-to drink to cool down.

“But didn’t you use to hate him?”

As his friend said, Chu Chen was a renowned expert in the Gilifischer research field and the youngest recipient of the Snotter Award.

He was attractive, outstanding, and young.

Almost no one disliked him.

Even in You Qi’s sisters’ gossip group chat, 80% of them saw Chu Chen as their dream guy. The remaining 19% probably didn’t know who he was. That left the last 1%—

And that lone 1% was none other than Luo Lin himself.

Luo Lin hated Chu Chen to his core.

No one dared to ask why. Even You Qi, who had been Luo Lin’s friend for years, only knew that the two had attended the same high school. They had developed some irreconcilable conflict back then, but the details remained a mystery.

He only remembered one particular snowy night. Luo Lin had drunk too much and spent three whole hours cursing at a Chu Chen poster pasted on an iron gate—without repeating a single insult.

The intensity, the sheer spectacle of it—thinking back still felt shocking.

Even his three huskies wouldn’t be able to out-bark Luo Lin when he got going.

“Of course, I hate him,” Luo Lin chugged a big gulp of ice-cold cola, the carbonation spreading through his limbs and giving him a shiver. “But haven’t you heard? Marriage is the ultimate form of mutual torment. Besides, after scaring the hell out of Chu Chen’s aunt, do you really think they’ll still push for the engagement?”

“Alright, suit yourself.”

You Qi admired his freshly done nails, thinking it was a waste that he wasn’t a professional manicurist. He could easily charge 300 an hour, with an extra 100 for custom designs.

Seeing his friend’s self-absorbed expression, Luo Lin couldn’t be bothered to respond. After running around all morning, he was exhausted. He decided to rest at You Qi’s place before heading back.

Lounging on a beanbag chair, Luo Lin started scrolling through his phone.

Bored, he hopped onto Weibo for a quick browse.

He only did three things on Weibo:

Trash-talk Chu Chen.
Trash-talk Chu Chen.
And still, trash-talk Chu Chen.

He never criticized his academic work or character—he focused on one single thing: “Chu Chen totally looks like an enoki mushroom.”

And he had to tag it in every post, making sure it was public, almost like he was baiting people into arguing with him.

—”What’s wrong with you?! Have you even seen him? Stop spreading lies!”

“Have you seen him? How do you know I’m lying?”

—”Chu Chen has abs and pecs! How could he be small??”

“The smaller they are, the harder they work out.”

—”I agree! He looks like an enoki mushroom, and he’s ugly! His academic work sucks too. I don’t get why so many people like him. Are scientists trying to act like influencers now? Stop embarrassing the research community.”

Luo Lin quickly typed out a reply: “Is there any need for personal attacks? Chu Chen, ugly? If he’s ugly, then the entire Chinese entertainment industry has no one worth looking at. And his academic work is bad? Why don’t you go win a Snotter Award first? You spend all day spouting nonsense online—do you even know your own worth?”

—”Uh…, are you really a hater?”

“I’m just a neutral passerby.”

Feeling satisfied after venting, Luo Lin shut off his phone.

Let the internet go wild—he couldn’t care less.

He spent the afternoon at You Qi’s place, had dinner, strolled around for a bit, bought some Lao Gan Ma chili sauce for his meals, and then headed back to the dorms at the Special Investigation Bureau.

For several days, nothing much happened. One morning, Luo Lin got up early to check in with the search department, and planned to go back to his dorm for a nice nap. His job as an agent was task-based—when there were no missions, he could slack off even in front of his superiors.

But sometimes, work was weird. The more you avoided mentioning it, the more likely it was to come knocking.

Luo Lin had just set up his fishing game—rod in place, fish tank open—when his boss spoke up: “Luo Lin, come to the conference room.”

He had no choice but to put down his console like he was heading to a funeral.

And honestly, it was pretty close.

The conference room atmosphere was suffocating—everyone sat stiffly, silent. Normally, things weren’t this tense, but that day, some big-shot inspector had come by. The guy was all about flaunting his authority, didn’t understand much, but insisted on giving orders anyway. The agents had been catering to his nonsense all morning, eager to see him gone.

To make things worse, he had ridiculous demands—saying no one was allowed to fidget during meetings. It felt less like a briefing and more like a memorial service. Only Luo Lin was yawning openly.

He never cared for rules—because he had the skills to back it up.

About a hundred years ago, someone extracted a mysterious substance from the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

At first, people assumed it was just another secret of the sea.

No one thought it could be linked to human evolution. They believed that once “fish” had crawled onto land, they had ceased to be creatures of the ocean.

But then came the two World Wars. Governments, desperate to enhance their soldiers, sought any means of power they could find. That mysterious substance resurfaced.

Legend had it that a now-infamous scientist used this material to develop the “Gillifischer Toxin,” injecting it into human bodies in an attempt to unlock their hidden potential. Later, a Jewish couple, seeking political asylum, handed this discovery over to the United States. From that point on, Gillifischer sparked a global frenzy for human enhancement.

At first, Gilifischer was synonymous with death.

It claimed countless lives, suffocating people to death one by one.

Until, at last, a single person crawled out from a mountain of corpses.

He opened his eyes—

And found that he could see thousands of miles away.

Thus, “Gillifischer” became synonymous with genetic weaponry. Humanity officially bid farewell to the era of pure flesh and began pursuing more efficient and higher-level evolution.

News media even hailed it as the greatest and most mysterious invention since the Industrial Revolution, as its developmental history remained largely unknown. However, people firmly believed that “Gillifischer” would drive human evolution, leading to a more advanced civilization.

They assumed the high mortality rate was merely a temporary side effect, convinced that through diligence and intelligence, humanity would eventually overcome natural selection. “Gillifischer” was seen as the critical stepping stone in the journey from human to godhood.

But soon, their dreams were shattered.

Despite countless scientists dedicating themselves to research, none could eliminate its inherent “natural selection” tendencies: most people who injected “Gillifischer” died in agony, unable to withstand the toxin’s side effects.

Human civilization did advance, yet it still followed the same familiar laws—”survival of the fittest.”

In the past, survival was dictated by the law of the jungle, where the weak were preyed upon. Now, it depended on genetic mutations induced by “Gillifischer.”

Luo Lin was one of the very few who, after being injected with the toxin, neither died nor turned into a monster. Instead, he retained his consciousness and enhanced his physical abilities. After numerous uses of his strengthened body, Luo Lin even managed to fully suppress the “Gillifischer” toxin within him, undergoing a second-stage evolution.

Afterward, he passed the necessary tests and joined the Special Investigation Bureau as an official member.

“Please, have a seat.”

Luo Lin pulled out a chair and sat down, forcing back the yawn that nearly escaped his lips.

“Luo Lin, the organization has a very important task for you.”

Seated across from him was his mentor, Shen Yunhe, who also happened to be the Director of the Special Investigation Bureau.

Despite being of an age where he could be enjoying a peaceful retirement, Shen Yunhe stubbornly remained on the front lines of the Bureau, handling all domestic incidents involving those with supernatural abilities. He was also the only person in the entire Bureau who could keep Luo Lin in check.

Faced with his mentor’s serious expression, Luo Lin uncharacteristically toned down his usual careless demeanor.

“The youngest recipient of the Snotter Award, Chu Chen, is likely planning to return to the country soon.”

Chu Chen?

Him again?

Had the Earth suddenly decided it didn’t like orbiting the Sun and preferred revolving around Chu Chen instead?

Why was he popping up everywhere?

“Chu Chen has made significant contributions to technological advancements, but his abrupt decision to return has made us uneasy. Therefore, we intend to conduct a total of 124 hours of monitoring over one week. Qiao Geng has already installed a brainwave transmission terminal in Chu Chen’s residence. Based on your previous outstanding performance, we want to assign this task to you.”

“Huh?”

Luo Lin was baffled—why were they asking him to monitor Chu Chen?

Not to mention, he and Chu Chen had just been discussing an engagement—

Not that he was particularly eager about that, anyway.

Still, wouldn’t it be inappropriate?

Just as he was about to explain their relationship and reject what sounded like a tedious job, Shen Yunhe suddenly spoke up.

“We’re not suspecting Chu Chen of anything. We simply want to confirm that he poses no threat to us. Traditional surveillance devices are nothing more than baby toys to someone like him. Additionally, his return was unexpected, and as it happens, you are the only suitable candidate within our brainwave system. This mission can only be entrusted to you.”

“Why am I the only one in the system?”

Shen Yunhe frowned, recalling the absurd incident.

“Because during the testing phase, you got drunk and told the technician you wanted to experience the ‘out-of-body climax sensation.'”

…What?

Was he really that wild?

“I think what I said and what the technician understood were two completely different things.”

“Luo Lin! You still have the audacity to talk back?”

Fine, fine—it was his own fault.

Luo Lin shrank into his chair, deciding to give in.

“When do we start?”

Before Shen Yunhe could answer, the supervising officer suddenly interjected, “Right now.”

Luo Lin glanced at his mentor.

That was not standard protocol. According to Bureau regulations, every mission order had to undergo review and be issued at least a day in advance—unless it was an urgent matter concerning public safety. This decision, however, sounded like someone had made it on a whim.

Luo Lin wanted to object, but Shen Yunhe subtly shook his head, signaling him to let it go. The Bureau was already busy enough without having to deal with a bureaucratic leader who only knew how to throw his weight around. Sometimes, retreating was the best course of action.

Fine, whatever.

Like a deflated balloon, Luo Lin followed his mentor into the experiment chamber. He sat down, put on the helmet handed to him by a programmer, and sighed.

He really didn’t want to see Chu Chen.

But then again, if the other party remained unaware of his presence, spying on his life might be… interesting.

More material to mock him with.

Nice.

Besides, it had been a long time since their last encounter. If he thought about it, this would technically be their first reunion since parting ways.

【Consciousness Transmission】

Luo Lin didn’t like the sensation. He had imagined brainwave transmission would feel like an out-of-body experience, but instead, it felt more like sleep paralysis. His limbs were completely immobilized, as if his soul had been trapped inside Schrödinger’s box.

“I understand. Proceed as he instructed.”

In his daze, Luo Lin vaguely heard someone speaking.

The voice was familiar—so familiar it was irritating.

Frowning, Luo Lin struggled to force his eyes open. Not his real eyes, but rather the visual perception his brainwaves had transmitted to his nervous system.

Only then did he realize—

There was a man standing in front of him.

A man who was wearing nothing but a bath towel.

Due to his limited field of vision, Luo Lin could only see the man’s waist and not his face.

Was there another man in Chu Chen’s room?

Or was this person Chu Chen?

But he’s only wearing a bath towel—

Luo Lin’s mischievous thoughts resurfaced.

Looking closely, this guy had an impressive physique, with fair skin.

It was precisely because of how pale he was that his muscular contours reminded Luo Lin of medieval marble sculptures. He wondered how artisans of the past had the patience to carve such pampered bodies and smooth lines from a single block of marble. Their creations were often even more stunning than real human bodies—breathtakingly beautiful yet devoid of any eroticism. Just seeing them was enough to make one marvel at humanity as the greatest creation of the gods.

And now, the body before Luo Lin was just as—impressive.

The man took a set of pajamas from the wardrobe, seemingly preparing to change. He untied the bath towel, and before long, the white fabric slipped to the ground.

Huge!

Luo Lin instinctively wanted to cover his mouth, only to realize that he didn’t have hands in his current form.

The man bent down to put on his underwear.

At that exact moment, Luo Lin finally got a clear view of the man’s face.

A face marked by a tear mole at the corner of his eye—one that, no matter how many times Luo Lin saw it, never failed to astonish him, yet also filled him with hatred.

Chu Chen?!

Any lingering trace of arousal was immediately extinguished by the sight of Chu Chen’s face.

Luo Lin sucked in a sharp breath.

Was Chu Chen really that big? Had he truly been transmitted here for monitoring, or was this just a dream? Was this some bizarre manifestation of the saying “the bolder the thought, the greater the reality”?

So weird.

Better take another look.

Back when they were in school together, Chu Chen always trailed behind him, timidly handing him towels and bottled water. Luo Lin had never thought of him as particularly well-developed back then.

Was it superior genetics, or sheer effort?

So unfair.

After getting dressed, Chu Chen was still on the phone.

“Hello, this is Chu Chen. Could you arrange for a new microwave to be delivered tomorrow?”

“Yes, I accidentally blew up my microwave. Just a small accident, no injuries.”

“I think I’m quite good at household chores. Maybe I’m just a bit out of practice. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Bye.”

What the hell.

‘Good at household chores’ but blew up a microwave?

After wrapping up his call, Chu Chen put down his phone and walked toward Luo Lin’s position.

Luo Lin deduced that he was currently in Chu Chen’s bedroom. Judging by his placement, he was likely on the bed. And now, Chu Chen was coming closer… was he about to sleep?

As the world spun around him, Luo Lin suddenly found himself face-to-face with Chu Chen’s bare chest.

He sent a mental voice message to the programmer responsible for the monitoring program: “Where exactly did you put the brainwave transmitter in Chu Chen’s house? He’s way too close to me right now, and I can’t see what’s going on properly.”

“The object isn’t important.”

“You’ve got to at least tell me what I am.”

“I told you—the object doesn’t matter. Completing the mission is the priority.”

Hearing that made Luo Lin nervous.

“What the hell did you put me into?”

“A plush rabbit chewing on a carrot.”

The voice of the technician, Qiao Geng, came through calmly.

Luo Lin took a sharp breath.

He suddenly didn’t know whether to mock Chu Chen for still sleeping with a stuffed animal at his age or to have a serious conversation with his mentor about quitting his job and negotiating for severance pay.

Making money was hard, but this job was even harder. Was the Special Investigation Bureau really so broke that they couldn’t afford a better surveillance device?

Whatever, no need to get worked up. The salary was decent, the workload was light, and the job came with meals, accommodations, and full benefits. He’d endure it.

As he was lost in thought, he heard Chu Chen’s steady breathing beside him.

He seemed to have fallen asleep.

There wasn’t much to monitor when someone was sleeping. Luo Lin felt numb.

Aside from the initial shock of seeing that part of Chu Chen, Luo Lin now felt an ache in his chest.

He really wasn’t suited for this mission. He should tell his mentor to find a more compatible brainwave match and let another colleague take over.

Because he couldn’t maintain his composure when facing Chu Chen.

If he weren’t trapped in a stuffed animal right now, Luo Lin would probably be grabbing Chu Chen by the collar and demanding answers—

But demanding what, exactly? Even Luo Lin wasn’t sure.

From beginning to end, their relationship had been a mess of his own making—dragging Chu Chen into it along with him.

“System link disconnecting.”

An electronic voice rang in his head.

The next moment, Luo Lin found himself back in the monitoring room of the Investigation Bureau.

He needed to verbally relay the information he had seen. Directly projecting his brainwaves would cause an overwhelming influx of data, potentially crashing the system. After disconnecting, Luo Lin said nothing—only asked to go wash his face and clear his head.

“Chu Chen’s status is of utmost importance. Forget washing your face—hurry up and report what you saw.”

Luo Lin looked up.

That supervising officer was still here? Just loitering outside, waiting for his report on Chu Chen? He sure was patient.

Luo Lin had heard of this guy before—someone who was incompetent at everything, had been sitting idle for over six months, and had a terrible reputation. Everywhere he went, people suffered.

Why was this guy suddenly acting all high and mighty here? Oh, right—word was that he’d previously been involved in researching Gillifischer. Maybe he got nothing out of it and was now sniffing around for intel on Chu Chen? What a joke.

Seeing that Luo Lin was ignoring him, the supervising officer cleared his throat. “I will be overseeing this entire operation. You need to report not only to Shen Yunhe but also to me.”

Luo Lin, already in a bad mood after seeing Chu Chen, felt his anger rise even more at being ordered around.

His chest heaved, fists clenched—a telltale sign that his abilities were about to flare up.

Even Shen Yunhe stepped forward, preparing to shield the supervising officer. Luo Lin’s outbursts were no joke—he’d already trashed three parking lots at the Bureau before.

But to everyone’s surprise, Luo Lin didn’t lash out. Instead, he grinned and loudly reported what he had seen.

“I saw Chu Chen naked. His dick is huge!”

His voice rang out loud and clear, echoing across the entire floor.