The independent third-party review persisted for a full consecutive week.
The Beijing University administration building, where people usually walked in a perpetual rush, was instantly shrouded in an aura of stark solemnity due to the presence of the expert panel. Silas Shen had practically uprooted and relocated the entire foundation of his laboratory over to the review site: laboratory logbooks, the most raw spectral analysis data, scanned copies of over a thousand participants' informed consent forms, and the original documents of the historical ethical approvals.
Every single file was rigorously sealed, cataloged, and audited one by one by top-tier experts summoned from all across the nation, who sat cloistered inside a sealed conference room.
An intense audit of this caliber was a grueling, dehydrating test for any scientific research project. Naturally, Julian Liang was not about to let this final opportunity slip by. He attempted to manufacture more disruptions during the auditing process; leveraging his seasoned, sophisticated network operated within academia for decades, he stubbornly bypassed multiple layers of cross-examination to covertly plant two industry experts—with whom he shared deep personal ties—into the review panel, plotting to manipulate the interpretation of the core data.
As long as they could stamp a label of "suspected selective bias" onto a single, microscopic cellular pathway data point, Silas and his blocker patches would find it nearly impossible to thoroughly redeem themselves.
But Julian Liang had miscalculated Hunter Huo.
This golden-haired youth, who usually appeared to do nothing but circle around Professor Shen with a seemingly careless demeanor, was actually far more perceptive than anyone could imagine. In fact, one could say he had long been prepared.
On the exact night the final roster of the review panel was announced, before the lights of the administration building were even extinguished, Hunter was already inside the car returning to the apartment, pulling up all academic collaboration records between those two experts and Julian Liang over the past five years. He even followed the clues to unearth the financial transactions of the affiliated bank accounts under their names.
When a large golden retriever unleashed his ruthlessness, his claws were not only sharp, but his sense of smell was astoundingly acute.
Amidst the dense financial streams, Hunter's fingertip halted on a payment of 100,000 yuan. It was a sum remitted from a private studio under Julian Liang's personal name as a "consultation fee." It lacked any corresponding formal contract, and not a single word of its manifestation could be found within the academic output of either party. It bore only a vague, near-perfunctory memo: "Project Coordination."
"Project coordination? Coordinating how to splash dirty water more seamlessly?" Hunter stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh, a rare sliver of tyrannical ferocity unique to a top-tier Alpha condensing within the depths of his eyes.
The following morning, before those two experts could even launch an attack during the review panel's morning briefing, those two clear financial transaction records—with timelines aligning seamlessly—had already been anonymously submitted via an encrypted email to the highest inbox of the Academic Ethics Committee.
The official seal of the Huo Group's Legal Department was faintly visible on the footer of the attachment.
That very afternoon, before the closed-door meeting in the review building was even halfway through, the two experts who had originally prepared to nitpick the data stood up voluntarily. Their faces were deathly pale, and cold sweat drenched their clothes as they tremblingly submitted applications for recusal on the grounds of "physical discomfort and requiring medical rest."
Devoid of hidden ghosts causing sabotage, the progression of the review advanced with an unstoppable force.
Finally, on the morning of the eighth day, a final report stamped with the steel seal of the independent third-party review panel was delivered to Silas's office desk.
The results were pristine, untainted by a single speck of dust: Silas Shen's research was fully compliant and entirely flawless across all three dimensions of ethical review, informed consent, and data authenticity. All allegations regarding "procedural loopholes" and "selective reporting" were completely unsubstantiated.
At the absolute conclusion of the report, the panel chief—who was renowned within the industry for being inflexibly stern—had even personally appended a highly weighty commentary:
"Professor Silas Shen's research ethics records are the most rigorous and flawless among all reviewed projects over the past five years. It is highly recommended that the complete procedure of this project be utilized as a standard case study text for subsequent university ethical review training."
Silas sat on his office chair, staring at that commentary reflecting a faint glare under the morning sun, remaining motionless for a long duration.
He merely watched quietly, his fingertips lightly tracing over the words "most rigorous." His profile, which had always been cool and self-restrained, appeared somewhat excessively pale and tranquil in the bright morning light.
"Professor."
A somewhat sticky call sounded from behind him.
Accompanying it was a burning hot temperature carrying a familiar scent of orange soda. Hunter naturally leaned his body over from behind, his two solid arms loosely encircling Silas's shoulders before he rogueishly rested his chin directly upon the young professor's slender shoulder line.
The youth's golden hair was somewhat messy, nuzzling against Silas's neck crook and causing a slight itch.
"Professor, you are now officially certified as absolutely innocent." Hunter tilted his head, looking at Silas's long eyelashes from the side, his voice laced with un-concealable pride and playfulness. "How about it, Professor Shen? Do you have any award acceptance thoughts right now? Can I interview you?"
Silas let out a long, thorough breath of relief.
He smoothly removed the gold-rimmed glasses he had worn for an entire day, utilizing slender fingertips to rub his slightly reddened glabella with some exhaustion. Listening to the puppy's credit-seeking breathing right beside his ear, he hooked his lips up in a self-deprecating manner, his voice cool yet carrying an un-detectable trace of relaxation:
"My thought is—never miss a single punctuation mark on an ethical review form ever again. It's too exhausting."
Hunter instantly let out a muffled laugh from his chest cavity, vibrating until Silas's shoulders trembled marginally in tandem.
Yet as the youth laughed, the arms encircled around Silas's shoulders tightened a fraction more. Others might only perceive Silas's words as a casual quip, but only Hunter knew exactly what lay beneath that layer of seemingly joking, even breezy tone: the bone-deep exhaustion accumulated from being groundlessly questioned, maliciously scrutinized, and forced to strip off his clothes to "prove his innocence" over and over again in front of others countless times over the past ten years.
In this world, an innocent person often had to swallow a thousand silver needles just to exchange them for a casual, weightless phrase like "it was a misunderstanding."
"It won't happen again."
Hunter retracted his playful demeanor, burying his face directly into Silas's neck crook, which radiated the cool scent of fir trees. His voice was low and gentle, like a vow that would never be violated. "Silas Shen, no one will ever be able to treat you like that again. I promise."
Silas's slender eyelashes trembled lightly.
He did not push this excessively clingy golden retriever away with his usual disdain. Instead, he closed his eyes, leaning back somewhat as if losing physical strength, permitting his slender back to completely and unreservedly press against Hunter's burning, broad, and immensely secure chest.
The breathing of the two interlaced within the quiet office—fir trees and the blazing sun, fusing seamlessly together without a single gap in this very moment.
Outside the window, the autumn air was gradually deepening.