Chapter 31: Infant

The faucet gushed water with a splashing sound.

Washed his face, brushed his teeth, and noticed a sweet stickiness on his tongue; he opened his mouth and saw blood seeping from both upper and lower gums.

Side effects of the gene suppressant.

Li Cheng silently raised his cup and rinsed his mouth repeatedly until no more blood streaks remained.

He stepped out of the bathroom; his uncle's family had left early to order formal wear from a tailor recommended by others—

His cousin Xue Lingyu had recently received an offer from a foreign Ivy League university, and the whole family was ecstatic, actively preparing for his interview in half a month.

The tablecloth, wallpaper, and even lightbulbs in the living room had all been replaced; every certificate and trophy was displayed in the most prominent spots.

None of this had anything to do with Li Cheng; he rode his bike to school, handed in his homework, and let his gaze linger for a moment on the empty seat to the right—Shao Wangshu had taken a sick day and did not appear.

What kind of family requires their children to donate blood at regular intervals?

Li Cheng had heard a city legend: somewhere abroad, there was an orphanage built inside a castle, consistently receiving external donations and providing excellent living conditions and educational resources for over a hundred orphans.

But in reality, these isolated orphans were all blood relatives— a super-rich man had used in vitro fertilization and surrogacy to have them raised in the orphanage.

Should the billionaire or his legitimate children suffer an accident, all the orphans would be the most suitable sources for organ transplants.

This urban legend had no clear beginning or end, and its truth was impossible to verify.

Some netizens thought it was fake, because in organ transplants like bone marrow, liver, or kidneys, the success rate of familial matching was not high enough to justify it.

Meanwhile, the international black market for organs was rampant; keeping so many orphans was largely a waste of money.

Other netizens, however, believed the legend had some plausibility—even with the black market existing, the time required for matching, purchasing, transporting, and transplanting organs was still considerable.

In comparison, obtaining organs directly from the orphanage was far more convenient, swift, and reliable.

For the ultra-rich at the top of the pyramid, money was merely a number; they could easily spend the small cost of raising hundreds of orphans to gain a few days, even hours, in speed during organ transplantation.

Shao Wangshu's family probably wasn't like this.

"Zhan Xinyu!"

Miss Yang Hui's voice interrupted Li Cheng's thoughts; she stood with her hands on her hips and addressed Zhan Xinyu, seated in the front row next to the aisle: "Can't you tidy up your books? Don't keep them under your desk—you've tripped people how many times now?"

"I already tidied them up."

Zhan Xinyu looked innocent, bent down, and moved the pile of books under his desk—comprising the series *America in Collapse*, *The Collapse of the American Empire*, *The Decline of America*, *Why America Failed*—to the other side, muttering, "They don't even trip anyone."

"Hehehe,"

Evans, seated across the aisle, grinned broadly at Zhan Xinyu's scolding and added insult to injury: "Miss Yang told you to clean up—just do it, why so much talk?"

"Evans, I didn't say anything to you? Clean up your own desk too."

Miss Yang glared at Evans; his desk and floor were also piled high with books: *The End of History and the Last Man*, *Zhang Jiadun's Collected Works*, *The Collapse of Chinese Society Has Begun! *

One could only say these two were truly exceptional talents.

"What are you staring at? Did I tell you to stop morning reading?"

Noticing the classroom's reading volume drop, Miss Yang's eyebrows shot up and her voice rose; the other students immediately fixed their eyes on their noses, noses on their mouths, mouths on their hearts, and read louder to avoid trouble.

"What's wrong with Miss Yang?" Ye Jiaying, seated to Li Cheng's left, whispered while holding up her textbook. "She's angry this early."

"I don't know," Li Cheng shook his head.

Miss Yang was an excellent teacher, patient and diligent with students, but she had one flaw—her temper sometimes flared.

Her husband had died years ago saving a drowning child; she had never remarried and lived alone ever since—her personality shift was understandable.

They did not dwell on this long; Ye Jiaying said, "By the way, I listened to the song snippet Shao Wangshu sent me—she sings really well. Now we have our lead vocalist. We just need to pick a song."

"Why not wait until Shao Wangshu feels better, then apply for an empty lecture hall to practice first? I think—"

Li Cheng fell silent; he frowned and sniffed the air, puzzled: "Do you smell anything?"

Ye Jiaying sniffed the air and shook her head: "I don't smell anything."

"Maybe I'm imagining things."

Li Cheng hesitated and shook his head; he had just smelled a faint, elusive stench of decay.

Could the gene suppressant's effects be so strong they've affected his sense of smell?

————

"Decay?"

In the third-floor office of World Nuclear Peace House, Changsun Yao raised an eyebrow, arms crossed.

"Yes, Miss Changsun, you must help me."

Across the desk sat a thirty-something man dressed in an elegant suit, wearing a luxury watch.

He sat stiffly, his expression complex, voice bitter: "It's been nearly a month—my villa has been filled with a faint, lingering stench of decay. I hired three different cleaning companies and did four thorough cleanings. I even replaced the flooring, ceiling, and central air ducts. But the smell never went away."

Changsun Yao nodded and asked, "Have you sought help from the Special Affairs Bureau?"

"I have. They ran a series of tests and said I'm mentally sound, not cursed. They sent people to inspect the villa too—detected no abnormal fluctuations."

"Then maybe it's an issue with the house itself? Toxic building materials, underground gas leakage, something like that," Changsun Yao said casually. "Have you considered moving to another villa?"

Although official organizations—including the Special Affairs Bureau—generally tried to conceal the existence of killing fields from the public, exceptions existed.

The man seated behind the desk was a prominent young entrepreneur in Yin City with a net worth of one billion. His social tier naturally knew things ordinary people didn't—like who to turn to when encountering the strange.

And given his wealth, moving to another villa shouldn't be difficult.

"I've already moved out—I'm not living there anymore. But the problem isn't that."

The entrepreneur's expression turned extremely complex, his voice trembling: "The problem is—in the bedroom of the villa—there's a brand-new baby crib! I'm certain I never bought it. I checked with the Minzheng Bureau—I've never married, never adopted a child. So when, and by whom, was that crib placed there?!"

(End of Chapter)