Lin had been so busy over the past few days that his feet practically never touched the ground, running himself ragged until he didn't even have the leeway to tidy the stray hairs falling across his forehead.
The historical procurement records for the Life Sciences department's experimental consumables piled up like a small mountain. Trying to unearth a clue from these old ledgers—some of which were over a decade old with handwriting that had already begun to blur—was no different from searching for a needle in a ocean. Yet Lin stubbornly dug his heels in; every day after everyone else in the laboratory had cleared out, he would remain behind alone beneath the desk lamp, checking line by line through the dense spreadsheets.
It was on Wednesday afternoon, when he habitually flipped to the accounts from over a decade ago—the period when Julian Liang served as the director of the Life Sciences laboratory—that his mouse abruptly ground to a halt after sliding past a specific set of data.
Those were several purchase orders of considerable amounts, yet scattered and concealed beneath the nomenclature of various ordinary reagents.
In the procurement column, marked in an extremely small font, it read: "Highly Pure Synthetic Pheromones."
Though Lin usually appeared simple and honest, he was, after all, a genuine top-tier graduate of the Life Sciences department and understood this highly sensitive chemical formulation all too well. Pushing up his glasses, he immediately logged into the university's literature database to look up all the papers Julian Liang had published during that identical timeframe, as well as the scientific research projects he had led.
However, the results sent a shiver down his spine.
Among all of Julian Liang's research topics back then, there was absolutely not a single project that required the usage of this highly pure, immensely inducing synthetic pheromone.
Lin's heart began to accelerate for no apparent reason, his intuition telling him that he was currently stepping upon the edge of a massive, filthy dark curtain. Gritting his teeth, he followed those purchase orders and continued digging downward, listing out those covert withdrawal dates one by one.
Afterward, he pulled up the department's student registry alteration records from those exact years.
When those withdrawal dates overlapped seamlessly with the exact timeframes when several Omega graduate students were forced to take leaves of absence or withdraw from school due to so-called "out-of-control estrus periods and improper conduct," the hand Lin used to grip the mouse finally began to tremble violently and uncontrollably.
This was no coincidence.
This meant that the Omegas back then—who had been nailed deathly onto pillars of shame, spat upon, and branded with the crime of "seducing their mentor"—had all been intentionally induced into estrus by Julian Liang in the dark using chemical methods. He had personally manufactured those filthy "scandals" and personally destroyed the futures of those young people, purely to play the role of a "rational, restrained victim who was impervious to temptation" in front of others, using it to erect his own pristine monument as a virtuous saint.
How could such a vile person exist in this world?
Lin printed out all the original documents, comparison spreadsheets, and date-overlap charts, stacking them neatly inside a pure black document folder.
Taking a deep breath, he didn't even stop to wipe away the cold sweat on his forehead before turning around and heavily knocking on the frosted glass door of Silas Shen's office with a heavy heart.
"Come in."
Silas's voice was cool and detached as always.
At this moment, he was the only one inside the office. The sunlight from outside the window happened to land upon his profile, reflecting a soft glow along the edge of his gold-rimmed glasses. The cup of coffee Hunter Huo had sent over previously still sat by his hand, though its temperature had already turned somewhat cold.
"Professor Shen."
Lin stepped forward, his usual simple smile completely retracted. Setting the heavy document folder upon the clean laboratory counter, his voice carried a rare raspiness and weight: "These things... I think you should take a look."
Silas arched an eyebrow marginally, his gaze sweeping across Lin's slightly reddened eye-rims before reaching out to flip open the first page of the folder.
In stark black and white, those filthy data points deliberately concealed in the deep recesses of time were exposed without a single shred of cover beneath the brightest sunlight of the Life Sciences department. In that autumn over a decade ago, exactly how many milligrams of the inducing agent were withdrawn on which day, and on which day an Omega lost control in the laboratory and took a leave of absence—the two timelines intertwined like a pair of blood-stained daggers.
Silas's fingers paused on the edge of the paper for a long, long duration.
So long that the fir tree scent in the air seemed to congeal, and so long that Lin, standing beside him, subconsciously held his breath. Silas's fingertips lightly smoothed over those dense dates. Those exact points in time that he had intentionally forced himself to forget using countless rounds of reason and indifference—even once believing he was the one at fault—were currently resting here openly and honorably, awaiting a judgment that was a full decade overdue.
So, it truly wasn't his fault. So, from the very beginning, it had been a meticulously planned hunt.
After a long while, Silas finally lifted his head slowly. Removing his gold-rimmed glasses, those overly clear phoenix eyes—which were even faintly glistening with a watery sheen—looked toward Lin, his tone carrying a slight tremor he himself hadn't detected:
"Lin, why did you do this?"
Although Julian Liang did not currently hold a post at Beijing University, the background and network of connections behind him remained intricately complex. Lin was merely a minor assistant lacking any background who had managed to graduate and remain in the laboratory with great difficulty. Interfering in this kind of a decade-old faction scandal, a single misstep could result in him being ground to dust by those superiors until not even his bones were left.
Hearing Silas's question, Lin scratched the back of his head with some embarrassment. His originally heavy expression finally eased a fraction, revealing that trademark, somewhat simple and honest smile.
"Because... my wife said that if every one of us pretends not to know when we see this kind of thing, and no one stands up to speak out, then the bad guys will just keep winning, and this world will never get better."
Lin paused, looking at Silas with eyes full of pure gratitude. "Furthermore, Professor Shen, your blocker patches truly saved my wife."
Bringing up his own Omega wife, Lin's eyes practically beamed with light: "Previously, due to pheromone disorders and the rumors circulating in society, she didn't even dare to go out alone just to buy groceries. It was you who endured such immense pressure to research and develop the blocker patches. Now, she can not only go out on her own, but she's even found a job she likes. Professor Shen, if not for you, our home might still be entirely pitch-black. This... is what we ought to do for you."
Lin pressed his hands against his trouser seams with some awkwardness, yet his tone was incomparably firm: "Though I can't offer massive help, at the very least, I must help you splash those buckets of dirty water from back then right back at him, one by one."
Silas's long eyelashes trembled lightly under the dim light.
Looking at the simple researcher before him, he suddenly felt that the countless sleepless nights he had endured inside the cold laboratory over the past decade—the sweat and tears he had shed to fight against the so-called "physiological instinct"—finally possessed the warmest landing place in this very moment.
"Thank you."