Chapter 62: Turning Point - Part 1

As the final task before stepping down, Xiao Ning naturally did not want to go through the motions. So, Hongye arranged the reception staff according to his instructions and continued inspecting the forward base. After Xiao Ning’s somewhat bulky figure disappeared at the end of the corridor, Hongye glanced at his watch, then turned and entered the conference room. Moments later, he emerged again, glanced at his watch once more, turned, and went back inside.

Well, no matter how sharp Hongye’s intellect and emotional intelligence were—how extraordinary he might be compared to others—when he learned that the woman he loved was carrying his child, he was just like ninety-nine percent of men: his intelligence instantly dropped to zero, leaving him utterly helpless.

If there was one thing setting Hongye apart from most men, it was that after drinking three pots of tea and scrambling to rearrange the schedule on his phone into a chaotic mess, he finally confirmed that the progress on the amoeba parasite could be handed over to others. By nine the next morning, the only task left for him at the forward base was one that he could not delegate—it had to be done by his own hand.

After relieving his bladder, Hongye jogged towards the elevator, completely ignoring the expression of disbelief and concern on the face of a subordinate stepping out—“Is the world ending? Director Tu is grinning like a fool, rushing into the elevator without even a greeting.” Unbothered, Hongye swiped his work ID and completed the iris scan, allowing the elevator to carry him down to the lowest level of the forward base.

The lowest level of the forward base was nonexistent on any official records, both during the prison era and now; at least half the rooms were unaccounted for. Originally, this area had been used to detain prisoners of special status or extreme violence. Now, it had been transformed by Mai Rujing into Hongye’s private experimental laboratory. Any engineer with a shred of common sense would know that no one could create a personal lab for an individual within a top-secret national facility—no matter what flimsy excuse about “darkness beneath the lamp” was given to cover it up, it simply would not be allowed.

Fortunately, Hongye had found Mai Rujing. Only a genius with a touch of mental instability like Mai would recklessly help him realize such a plan without regard for consequences.

Reducing personnel and replacing them with automated machinery was also a matter of secrecy. After all, too many people meant too many eyes and mouths, and Mai Rujing was a “little woman” who spoke without thinking. If anyone grew suspicious, Hongye’s plan would be ruined—an outcome he could not bear.

Navigating expertly through the temperature-controlled warehouse for special drugs, Hongye pushed aside the insulated, soundproof panel in the back wall, which looked ordinary at first glance. Slipping inside, the motion sensor triggered the lights, instantly illuminating the laboratory before him. Because the forward base was still in its early stages, there wasn’t much supplementary decoration. The original cement partitions, bars, beds, and simple toilets used to detain prisoners had been removed. The air still hung heavy with the musty stench accumulated over years. At the center of the cement floor were several sterile booths filled with experimental instruments. At first glance, it seemed like a room for adult toys, a place for Hongye’s personal amusement. But beyond a few booths lay a massive culture tank filled with human bodies immersed in liquid, instantly shifting the scene from a crude TV drama to something more akin to a horror movie.

A B-grade horror film, at that.

Humming a tune and walking briskly, Hongye first entered one sterile booth and prepared a simple powdered medicine for himself. After swallowing it with water, he sat on a recliner, quietly counting his heartbeat. About five or six minutes later, when he stood again, the joy and anxiety of impending fatherhood had vanished, replaced by his usual cold, polite demeanor, now tinged with an unmistakable hint of bloodlust.

Different culture tanks contained different creatures: a zombie, a monkey, and a woman clearly covered in sores. Each reacted differently to Hongye’s presence. The zombie’s insatiable hunger for flesh remained unchanged, but missing limbs left it unable to move its body. The monkey emitted meaningless threats and snarls. The woman, however, greeted Hongye as if nothing were amiss.

“Doctor Tu, you seem in a good mood today.”

Hongye chose not to tell this pitiful middle-aged woman, whom he had rescued from near death in Harbin but who lost her child, that he was about to become a father. Instead, he spoke of another matter that pleased him.

“Remember the director named Xiong I mentioned?”

“The one whose name differs from mine by only one character, the one adept at political maneuvering? What about him?”

“His patron has fallen. Today’s inspection is his last. After that, he’s out.”

“Is that so? Well, that’s truly something to celebrate.”

“Yeah. How do you feel after the latest medication?”

“Uncomfortable. I vomited twice. But soaking in the culture tank helps a bit.”

Indeed, Hongye not only built this lab in secret but also blatantly ignored higher-ups’ strict orders forbidding Harbin test subjects from participating in experiments. Using blood collection and testing as an excuse, he transferred this poor woman, named Xiong Xiaolu, from the Jingji base and placed her in the culture tank as a living test subject.

Privately, Xiong Xiaolu agreed to cooperate for a simple reason: even if she only had ten years left to live, she did not want to spend them as a carrier of active zombie pathogens, dressed in protective clothing and masks, living in lonely isolation.

Not only Xiong, but even Wang Chen, who had come to accept the abnormalities within himself, would seize any chance to treat the zombie pathogen in his body, no matter the risk. After passing through the stage of despair and abandonment, the desire to survive and to be accepted by others would once again take hold of those infected. This is human nature—after all, humans evolved from social, group-living animals, and loneliness is a state everyone naturally tries to avoid.

Hongye had exploited this truth to secure Xiong Xiaolu’s full cooperation.

Helping her out of the culture tank and sending her to change clothes, Hongye carefully analyzed the latest experimental data in silence. When Xiong emerged, dressed anew, she looked at him anxiously—like a patient awaiting the doctor’s verdict—and whispered, “Director Tu, my condition…”

“I don’t want to hide anything. The medication hasn’t been very effective so far. We need to conduct more tests.”

“I see.” Her eyes dimmed instantly.

Sensing her despondency, Hongye encouraged her. “Don’t lose heart. Recovery can’t happen all at once—it’s like drawing silk from a cocoon, one thread at a time.”

“Thank you for your efforts. Despite the great risks, you’re treating me. I’m truly grateful.”