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The faucet was gushing out water.

Washing my face, brushing my teeth, I noticed a sickly sweet taste on the tip of my tongue. Opening my mouth, both rows of gums were bleeding.

The side effects of the genetic suppressant...

Li Cheng silently raised the cup, continuously gargling until he spat out all the blood and then stopped.

Stepping out of the bathroom, my uncle's family had already left early, heading to a tailor recommended by someone else to order a suit—

My cousin Xue Lingyu recently received an offer from an Ivy League university abroad. The entire family was ecstatic about this, actively preparing for the interview that was half a month away.

In the living room, the tablecloth, wallpaper, and even the light bulbs had all been changed. Various certificates and trophies were placed in the most conspicuous positions.

All this had little to do with Li Cheng. He rode his bike to school, turned in his homework, and his gaze lingered on the empty seat on the right — Shao Wangshu had taken another sick day off and wasn't present.

During a previous PE class, he had seen a large scar on her left arm, which seemed to have been caused by frequent blood draws over a long period. He didn't know what for.

Li Cheng had heard an urban legend, saying that somewhere abroad there was an orphanage built in a castle, which received donations from the outside world all year round, providing a quite decent living environment and educational resources for hundreds of orphans.

However, in reality, these isolated orphans were all blood-related siblings—a super-rich person relying on IVF and surrogacy had commissioned others to 'raise' them in the orphanage,

so that if the tycoon or his legitimate offspring encountered an accident, all the orphans would be the most suitable source of organ transplants.

This urban legend was headless and tailless, with the truth being difficult to discern.

Some netizens thought it was fake because the success rate of matching relatives for bone marrow, liver, and kidney transplants wasn't very high.

At the same time, the black market for organs was particularly rampant internationally. Raising so many orphans was largely a waste of money.

Yet other netizens believed the urban legend had some merit—even with the existence of a black market for organs, it would take a significant amount of time for a successful match to purchase, transport, and transplant.

By comparison, "freshly picking" from the orphanage was more convenient, fast, clean, and reliable.

After all, for those at the top of the pyramid, money was just a number. They could absolutely use the little amount of money spent on raising a few hundred orphans in exchange for those few extra days or hours during an organ transplant.

Shao Wangshu... her family probably isn't in that situation, right...

"Zhan Xinyu!"

The voice of the homeroom teacher Yang Hui interrupted Li Cheng's contemplations. She stood with her hands on her hips, saying to Zhan Xinyu who was sitting in the first row near the aisle: "Can you clean up your books? Don't always leave them under the table, you've tripped people up too many times."

"I've already cleaned up."

Zhan Xinyu looked innocent, bending over to move the pile of books under his desk, consisting of a series of volumes like "Collapse of the American Empire," "America is collapsing," "Failing America," "Why America is Finished," to the other side, muttering under his breath, "It's not like they actually trip people..."

"Hehehe,"

Evans, sitting on the other side of the aisle, seeing his nemesis Zhan Xinyu get scolded, couldn't help but grin broadly, adding insult to injury, "When Teacher Yang tells you to clean up, just clean up, why the fuss?"

"Evans, didn't I tell you too? You tidy up your desk as well."

Yang Hui glared at Evans, whose desk and under his desk were also piled up with a stack of books, titles like "The End of History and the Last Man," "The Chomsky Collection," "The Collapse of Chinese Society Has Begun!."

One can only say that both are rare talents.

"What are you looking at? Did I tell you to stop reading aloud?"

Noticing the recitation in the classroom had quietened, Yang Hui's eyebrows knitted together, her voice pitched a notch higher, prompting the other students to quickly focus on their reading, noses to eyes, eyes to mouths, mouths to hearts, and recite the text louder to avoid trouble.

"What's gotten into Teacher Yang?" Ye Jiaying, sitting to the left of Li Cheng, whispered behind her textbook, "She's fired up early in the morning."

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

Yang Hui was an excellent teacher with an admirable level of patience and seriousness towards her students, but she had one flaw—her temper was occasionally poor.

Her husband had tragically passed away years earlier trying to save a drowning child, and she had remained single ever since, living alone. It was understandable for her personality to have changed.

The two did not dwell on this problem too long. Ye Jiaying said, "By the way, I listened to the singing clip Shao Wangshu sent me yesterday; she sings quite nicely. With her, our band has a lead singer now. We just need to decide on a song."

"How about we wait until Shao Wangshu's feeling a bit better, then we can apply for an empty lecture hall to practice first? I think..."

Li Cheng's words faltered, he sniffed the air with a frown and asked, "Do you smell anything strange?"

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

"Maybe I'm just overthinking it then."

Hesitating, Li Cheng shook his head; he thought he had caught a faint whiff of a rotten smell.

Could it be that the effects of the genetic suppressant were too strong, also impacting his sense of smell?

————

"Rotten smell?"

In the third-floor office of World Nuclear House, Zhangsun Yao's brows rose slightly, her arms crossed in front of her.

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

The man seated across the desk, dressed in a fine suit and wearing a designer watch, was in his early thirties.

He sat restrained, with a complex expression and a bitter tone, "It's been almost a month, and there's this subtle rotten smell lingering in my mansion. I've had three different domestic service companies clean it top to bottom four times. Even the floors, ceilings, and central air-conditioning ducts have been replaced. But the smell hasn't gone away."

Zhangsun Yao nodded and asked, "Did you seek help from the Special Affairs Administration?"

"I did. They performed a series of checks on me, said I was of sound mind and not cursed. They also sent someone over to the mansion to have a look around, but no abnormal fluctuations were detected."

"Could it be an issue with the residence itself? For example, toxic construction materials or underground gas leaks?" Zhangsun Yao suggested casually, "Have you considered moving to another mansion?"

Although organizations including the Special Affairs Bureau, as official agencies around the world, tend to conceal the existence of killing fields from the public, there are always exceptions.

The man behind the desk was a young billionaire entrepreneur from Yin City. At his level of society, he naturally knew some things beyond the knowledge of ordinary people—like whom to seek help from when encountering strange incidents.

And with his wealth, changing residences should not be difficult.

"I've already moved out, I don't live there anymore. But the problem isn't that..."

The entrepreneur's expression became extremely complex, his voice trembling a little, "The problem is, there's a brand-new baby crib in the bedroom of the mansion! I am certain I have never bought it; I've checked with the civil affairs bureau, I've never been married, and never adopted a child. So when and who put this baby crib there?!"