But Chen Ce Bai's eyes couldn't possibly see only her.
He was the youngest, most talented, and most promising scientist of his generation.
In just two years, he had solved the nearly unsolvable issue of the "chip disease."
Some experts speculated that, if it weren't for the exorbitant cost of the neural inhibitor—$40,000 for just 30mg, currently only accessible to senior biotech employees—Chen Ce Bai might well have become the most valuable scientist in the world.
Since marrying Chen Ce Bai, more than one person had told her that he could never fall in love with her.
Some of those who said it were her admirers. Some were his rivals. And some were his fanatical followers.
Yes, Chen Ce Bai had fanatics.
Perhaps because the end of science borders on theology, his fans were more like religious devotees.
When their research hit a wall, they would go and worship a 3D hologram of him.
Qiu Yu had once witnessed it herself—utterly jaw-dropping. It redefined her understanding of what it meant to idolize a scientist.
—She and Chen Ce Bai came from two different worlds.
He couldn't see her.
And she couldn't understand him.
Qiu Yu felt that things were fine just the way they were. A cooperative marriage, free of suspicion, free of quarrels—free from all the typical flaws of a traditional relationship.
The only downside was her lack of willpower. She found herself frequently drawn to Chen Ce Bai's mysterious aura, moved by his occasional tenderness.
Qiu Yu smiled faintly. "Alright, I'll do whatever you say."
She pulled a tissue from the storage compartment and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead. His sweat was cold—like a splash of icy water.
Chen Ce Bai didn't move, letting her go about her task.
Once she was done, he returned to his usual expressionless self. He took the tissue from her hand, tossed it into the bin, started the car, and drove them home.
Qiu Yu rested her eyes in the passenger seat.
Just as she was about to shut down the chip's background processes—remembering his reminder—a red notification dot caught her attention.
Out of habit, she tapped it open. It was a spam message.
She was about to delete it when something caught her eye.
The message read:
[Click the link to see Chen Ce Bai's true face: https://sbpk.ccbXXXXXX]
Qiu Yu frowned slightly.
Probably one of Chen Ce Bai's competitors spreading junk to her private number—ridiculous.
She didn't mention it to him, not wanting to trouble him further. She deleted the message and went back to resting.
·
To achieve peak aerodynamic performance, this luxury sports car had a rather tight interior.
But it didn't feel cramped—thanks to its unparalleled opulence. The seats alone were made from the hides of countless freshly cultivated calves.
With his enhanced sense of smell, Chen Ce Bai could identify the exact origin of those calves. He could visualize how they were bred, selected for touch, grain, and pores—then eventually hung upside down, slaughtered, and skinned.
The scent of livestock blood filled the car—thick, greasy, and pungent.
It irritated him.
Even more irritating was the scent of Qiu Yu's blood mixed in.
Just like that morning, her blood carried a sweet, intoxicating fragrance—rich and maddening.
Chen Ce Bai gripped the steering wheel tightly. The veins on the back of his hand bulged visibly—dark blue and grotesque. Anyone seeing those ominously dark veins would know he was anything but calm.
Thankfully, Qiu Yu still had her eyes closed.
Otherwise, he'd have no explanation for his strange state.
A red light appeared up ahead. Chen Ce Bai slowed down and came to a stop.
Just then, Qiu Yu shifted slightly in her seat—her arm flashing in his peripheral vision.
In that instant, his hunting instincts, enhanced hundreds of times over, surged uncontrollably.
He nearly reached out, grabbed her wrist, pinned her to the seat, and bit into her throat.
A horn honked behind them, snapping him back. The twisted thoughts faded.
Chen Ce Bai had already done a full-body examination on himself in the lab.
No genetic mutations. No bio-contamination. No rare diseases.
Physiologically, he was perfectly normal—or at least, nothing current instruments could detect.
He could only rely on biometric data to track the changes in his body.
The data showed that, biologically, he resembled a dying man more than a living one:
—A heart rate of under 40 beats per minute.
—A body temperature of 10°C.
—Blood oxygen saturation below 70%.
—Respiratory rate down to 5 breaths per minute.
In short, he should be in a hearse—not in the driver's seat, driving home with his wife.
Maybe it was the low temperature that gave him such eerie calm.
Even now, with vital signs close to death, there was no ripple in his gaze behind the glasses.
There was only one thing he couldn't let go of...
Chen Ce Bai briefly closed his eyes.
Before the marriage, he had already informed Qiu Yu's parents about the risks of the bio-chip.
Overusing the chip would inevitably lead to cognitive decline—akin to a mild form of Alzheimer's.
Before the neural inhibitor was developed, the only solution was inhaled stimulants.
But those carried many side effects—the most serious being a spike in sudden deaths.
He had hoped that Qiu Yu's parents would, as elders, caution her to use the chip sparingly.
Instead, they only saw the immense commercial potential of the neural inhibitor.
And once they realized how closely he watched Qiu Yu, they promptly "offered" her to him.
Qiu Yu knew nothing of this.
Three years had passed, and Chen Ce Bai still didn't know how to view their relationship.
By all logic and emotion, he should never have been with Qiu Yu.
The 100% compatibility score? It was a lie.
He had hacked the system and rewritten the underlying code.
It was supposed to be an act of defiance.
At school, practically everyone liked Qiu Yu. She was beautiful, sweet, easygoing, came from a well-off family, and never took teasing to heart.
When the compatibility score between him and Qiu Yu came up as 99.99%, no one joked about it anymore.
No one dared bring his name up next to hers again.
He and she could finally have some peace.
But what he didn't expect—was for Qiu Yu to kiss him.
Voices buzzed all around them.
Under countless mocking, malicious stares, she had smiled at him—bright and radiant.
Then she tiptoed, cupped the back of his head, and kissed him.
Her lips were warm and soft, her tongue slick and moist. When it curled gently around his cold tongue, his heart—normally slow—suddenly thudded once, strong and fierce.
For that one fleeting second, his heart rate almost reached a normal person's.
In just a few seconds, her kiss left his fingers tingling.
He wanted to grab something—her hair, her throat.
Anchor her head in place.
Not let her leave.
But in the end, he did nothing. He watched quietly as her lips pulled away.
He thought he saw a faint, translucent thread of saliva stretch between them—
then break.
Then vanish.
Since that moment, in countless dreams, he would see that glistening strand drift past his eyes.
Saliva was impure.
So were his thoughts.
In his dreams, before that single thread of saliva could completely fall, he would suddenly drop his mask of indifference, grab the back of her head, and—with a terrifyingly aggressive force—suck on her tongue until the root of it ached.
He came from filth, and his mind was equally filthy, filled with impure predatory desire for her.
But he couldn't hunt her.
He wasn't worthy of hunting her.
She wasn't his prey.
She was born privileged, radiant like sunlight.
He had already stooped to the depths of depravity by occupying her for three years under the pretense of a faked compatibility score and a cooperative marriage.
And he didn't even know how much longer he had left to live.
With his current physical condition, even if someone told him he would collapse and die in the lab tomorrow, he wouldn't be surprised.
He was barely hanging on, which logically meant that when he saw her dining with Pei Xi earlier today, he shouldn't have gone over to interrupt.
After all, Pei Xi genuinely liked her.
If he died, the only person who could comfort and take care of her would be Pei Xi.
But… he couldn't resist.
She was still his wife.
If he wanted to, he could grab her chin at any moment and kiss her. If he let himself be more despicable, he could even force her to swallow his saliva.
Even now, her body still carried his scent.
No man could tolerate seeing his scent on her while she stood beside another man.
Maybe it was due to his heightened sense of smell, but when he caught the faint scent of Pei Xi lingering on her, he felt a terrifying surge of murderous intent.
He wanted to kill Pei Xi.
Preferably right in front of her—snap his neck with his bare hands.
So she'd know the consequence of getting too close to another man.
That vicious, horrifying thought took over his mind in less than a second.
It took a full thirty seconds before he could suppress the darkness roiling inside him.
To keep Qiu Yu from noticing anything strange, he stayed completely silent on the way back.
He had planned to stay quiet until they got home, but the moment she mentioned overusing her neural chip, the killing urge—barely suppressed—came surging back again.
What if she developed neurodegeneration?
What if something happened to her body…?
For the past three years, Chen Ce Bai had always acted like a calm, non-aggressive man in front of her.
But the moment he realized she might be physically at risk, his carefully crafted mask began to crack—his aggression surged uncontrollably.
When he gripped her jaw to access her biometric data, a truck roared past them.
In that instant, he had the near-uncontrollable urge to pull the gun from her waistband, aim it at the truck's tires, and fire.
Thank god…
She was physically fine—just mentally exhausted.
Chen Ce Bai's body finally relaxed.
Only then did he notice he was drenched in cold sweat.
He pressed his forehead against his palm and looked out the car window.
Reflected back at him was a cold, gloomy expression, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw scaly, bluish-black markings flash across his forehead.
Looking closer, it was just a few unusually bulging veins.
He'd been hallucinating too much lately.
Chen Ce Bai didn't dwell on it.
He closed his eyes, trying desperately to organize his thoughts.
He could feel himself spiraling out of control—and that loss of control was accelerating.
It was like his nerves were being stretched taut over and over again, each pull pushing the boundaries of his sanity.
He knew he wouldn't lose his mind yet…
But he had no idea where his breaking point actually lay.
And he had even less idea what the broken version of himself might do.
Because right now, his mind was overflowing with dark, terrifying, dangerous thoughts.
Each one of them…
…would make his unsuspecting, peacefully resting wife beside him recoil in horror.