A World Asunder - Chapter 6

On the final day of the holiday, Zhao Yexi stayed home and applied ointment to the back of his neck. It was an anti-itch cream he’d picked up at the pharmacy; it felt cool and slippery. After two days of use, he felt there was a tiny improvement, and once again, he convinced himself he could be saved.

Halfway through the application, his phone rang. Seeing the word “Master” on the screen, Zhao Yexi frantically wiped his hands on his clothes before adopting the seated posture of a diligent elementary student and solemnly answering: “Professor, Happy New Year.”

Guan Chengji got straight to the point: “Have you made up your mind about the ABO Research Institute?”

“I have,” Zhao Yexi said nervously. “I am willing to continue following Master.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. “Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, meet me at the ABO Research Institute. Human Resources needs to speak with you. If there are no issues, we can finalize it.”

“Yes, Professor. No problem, Professor.”

“Mm,” Guan Chengji’s voice sounded slightly low and hoarse. “Hanging up now.”

“Wait,” Zhao Yexi said. “Professor, will you be there tomorrow?”

The next day, Zhao Yexi arrived at the ABO Research Institute half an hour early, wearing a loose denim jacket with two heat packs stuck inside.

Although Suicheng had technically entered winter, it was only cold enough for a light jacket. Zhao Yexi’s heat packs were purely to ensure he maintained a “human temperature” in front of Guan Chengji.

The institute was located in the Smart City on the outskirts of Suicheng. Likely to keep researchers focused, there were almost no entertainment facilities nearby; the closest cinema was a twenty-minute drive away.

After scrolling through funny videos the entire way, Zhao Yexi stood at the institute’s entrance, arms spread wide, eyes closed to inhale the scent of science, when Guan Chengji called again.

Guan Chengji’s voice sounded even deeper than yesterday, punctuated by a couple of coughs. He told Zhao Yexi that something had come up and he wouldn’t be at the institute today, so Zhao Yexi would have to handle it alone.

Zhao Yexi breathed a massive sigh of relief. “Professor, are you feeling unwell?”

“It’s not a major problem,” Guan Chengji said. “Just worry about yourself.”

Zhao Yexi nimbly peeled off his heat packs. “Yes, Professor.”

After registering with security, showing his ID, and passing through a security check, Zhao Yexi reached the main lobby.

The institute was recently built. The main building had nine floors with top-tier facilities, and the floor was so polished it could act as a mirror, making Zhao Yexi slightly worried about up-skirt reflections. He scanned a giant directory board: “Finance,” “Social Survey,” “Research Group 3 (Pheromone Analysis),” “Director’s Office.”

Only two months since the differentiation phenomenon started and the place was already this professional. Impressive.

Human Resources was on the sixth floor. As the elevator doors slowly opened, Zhao Yexi’s gaze collided unexpectedly with Lu Huangzhi’s. For two seconds, he was struck by how handsome the face was, before his mind filled with exclamation points. “Ah!”

Lu Huangzhi arched an eyebrow. “Morning.”

Lu Huangzhi wasn’t alone. Standing in front of him was his supervisor—Guan Chengji’s arch-rival, Liang Qinghuan.

Liang Qinghuan wore glasses and looked like a gentle, elegant scholar. He appeared to be in his thirties at most, but Zhao Yexi knew he, like his own “Master,” was at least forty.

No matter how much Guan Chengji and Liang Qinghuan clashed, Liang Qinghuan was still Zhao Yexi’s senior. Zhao Yexi flashed a polite, dimpled smile: “Good morning, Professor Liang.” He then looked at Lu Huangzhi and pursed his lips to hide his dimples. “Morning, Junior.”

Liang Qinghuan looked around. “Just you?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Guan Chengji?”

“Professor Guan was going to bring me, but he seems to be sick.” Zhao Yexi immediately regretted saying it, wondering if he’d just leaked “military intelligence.”

Lu Huangzhi said casually, “I saw Professor Guan at school yesterday. He didn’t look great.”

Liang Qinghuan let out a cold laugh. “Why didn’t anyone tell me such good news sooner?”

Lu Huangzhi grinned. “Next time, for sure.”

Zhao Yexi maintained a polite, awkward smile, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. Liang Qinghuan was generally known as a nice guy who played games and understood memes—unless he was facing Guan Chengji, at which point he became a master of sarcasm.

Double standards seemed to be a hereditary trait for the Liang-Lu duo.

Liang Qinghuan stepped into the elevator. “Huangzhi, take Zhao Yexi to HR to report.”

Zhao Yexi started, “I can go by my…” but the doors shut before he finished.

Lu Huangzhi shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Zhao Yexi asked.

“You didn’t think you and Professor Guan were the only ones from our college entering the institute, did you?”

“But you’re only a second-year master’s student.”

“I finished my coursework early. I can start my internship now.”

Zhao Yexi felt conflicted. “Wouldn’t it be better to just go home and inherit the family business?”

Lu Huangzhi pretended to think for a few seconds. “This place looks more fun.”

Zhao Yexi scoffed. “Entering a research institute with that mindset is a waste of taxpayer money.”

“Wait until you’re a taxpayer yourself before saying that.” Lu Huangzhi stopped. “We’re here. Go on in.”

Zhao Yexi met with a kindly woman from HR. They discussed the onboarding process, focusing on confidentiality agreements and workplace protocols. Finally, the exciting part arrived.

“Regarding salary, we offer a flat 30K for master’s students, with bonuses calculated separately. Room and board are free. Insurance and pension are paid at the maximum rate, plus high-value commercial insurance. There’s a six-month probation at 80% pay, and two opportunities for a raise per year. Any questions?”

“No, thank you.”

“Next, we’ll do a background check. If that’s clear, you’ll come in for a physical. By the way, you haven’t done your ABO test yet, right? We’ll do that then. Every member of the institute gets priority testing. If you differentiate, we’ll send you straight to the lab; saves us the money we’d spend looking for clinical volunteers.”

Zhao Yexi gave a hollow laugh. “You must be joking.”

The woman smiled sweetly. “You’ll find out then.”

When Zhao Yexi stepped out of the office, Lu Huangzhi was still there. He saw Zhao Yexi’s expression and understood immediately. “Someone’s having second thoughts.”

Zhao Yexi turned his head stiffly. “Did she tell you about the volunteer thing? If we differentiate, she wants to dissect us!”

The little senior’s logic never disappointed. Lu Huangzhi played along: “Really?”

“Fine, maybe not. But they’ll definitely test drugs on us. We’re going to be lab rats!” Zhao Yexi clutched his head. “Darn, no wonder they bought us commercial insurance!”

Lu Huangzhi nodded. “How tragic. Want to grab lunch to settle your nerves? I heard the cafeteria here is decent.”

Zhao Yexi laughed in frustration. “Can you have some self-awareness as a lab rat? If you get too fat, you’ll be slaughtered!”

The cafeteria was on the third floor. To cater to staff from all over, it offered all eight major Chinese cuisines, along with unlimited beer, soft drinks, and congee. Since they were registered, they could eat for free all day.

Zhao Yexi walked a lap and picked out three meat dishes and one vegetable. At the beverage station, he hesitated for a long time before tearfully abandoning milk tea for a more “macho” sports drink.

Despite it being lunchtime, the cafeteria was quiet. Most diners were researchers in their thirties or forties. Lu Huangzhi and Zhao Yexi sat among them—one looking like an idol star and the other like a high schooler—looking completely out of place.

Lu Huangzhi saw Zhao Yexi’s tray. “Eating that much?”

Zhao Yexi was confident in his appetite. “Standard procedure. Don’t be amazed.”

Lu Huangzhi casually placed a piece of braised beef brisket into Zhao Yexi’s bowl. “Then why aren’t you growing?”

Zhao Yexi felt a metaphorical arrow hit his chest and nearly choked on his rice. He threw the beef back into Lu Huangzhi’s bowl. “I don’t want anything touched by a dog of a man like you.”

Two staff members sitting nearby were chatting in voices they thought were low, but Zhao Yexi could hear them perfectly.

“I heard the higher-ups are adding a new rule. Use the words ‘heat period’ again, and whoever you are, it’s a 500 RMB fine.”

“But those Omega symptoms are heat. ‘Susceptibility Period’ is just to make it sound nice.”

“Don’t ask; it’s about human rights. You can say animals go into heat, but never humans.”

“Self-deception…”

Zhao Yexi kept quiet until they left. He immediately turned to Lu Huangzhi: “Did you hear what they said?”

“You mean about being in heat?”

“Congratulations! That’s 500 RMB.”

Lu Huangzhi didn’t care at all. “I’ll say it again then, make it an even 1,000.”

“How can you be so calm? Aren’t you afraid of differentiating into an Omega?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why?!”

“I don’t have any signs of Omega differentiation,” Lu Huangzhi smiled. “What about you? Is your neck still bothering you?”

Zhao Yexi froze, then frantically pulled out his phone to text Tao Qiaosheng: Xiao Qiao, next time you go up the mountain to pray, take me with you. Thanks!

Zhao Yexi followed Tao Qiaosheng up the mountain and spent a fortune on two “Wish Fulfillment” talismans. On the day of the test, Tao Qiaosheng thoughtfully drove him to the institute.

“Don’t be nervous,” Tao Qiaosheng comforted the pale-faced Zhao Yexi. “If you really turn into an Omega, I’m willing to swap with you anytime.”

“How? A head transplant?” Zhao Yexi felt more nervous than he had during the college entrance exams, clutching his talisman tightly. “I’m going.”

There were quite a few people waiting for tests. Lu Huangzhi was supposed to be tested today too, but Zhao Yexi didn’t see him. Hopefully he’s been transported to another world.

Genetic testing required a blood draw. The nurse noticed his anxiety. “The probability of differentiation isn’t that high. Don’t overthink it.”

Zhao Yexi muttered, “But the back of my neck is already reacting.”

The nurse looked at him with sympathy. “Then there’s an 80% chance you’ve differentiated.”

Zhao Yexi felt a pang in his chest. “Could you be a bit less direct?”

She patted his arm. “Relax. I’m going in.”

Zhao Yexi’s heart leapt into his throat. “Wait, I…”

Suddenly, his vision went dark. A slightly cool palm covered his eyes, and Lu Huangzhi’s voice sounded from behind him, seemingly tinged with a smile: “So the Senior is afraid of needles after all.”

In the darkness, Zhao Yexi smelled that faint, fresh, inexplicably comfortable scent again.

“If you’re scared, don’t look,” Lu Huangzhi said.