Forbidden Zone Rose - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: From Beginning to End, It Was All Xie Yi’s Intent…

Su Zhi felt as if he had been burned; he jerked his gaze away from the man’s chest, not daring to look again.

“Sorry…”

He didn’t know how to react and let out another dry apology.

It was truly too embarrassing.

Su Zhi had never imagined that he would encounter such a scene in his life. Suddenly… slamming into someone’s chest.

Although there wasn’t much to be bashful about between an Alpha and a Beta, Su Zhi had never had such close contact with anyone. To make matters worse, it was “proactive” on his part, which made him feel inevitably humiliated.

When he was struggling just now, he seemed to have rubbed against the man twice. The rub had been solid; that unique and distinct texture was still imprinted on the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, radiating a lingering heat.

When people are embarrassed, they often pretend to be busy. Su Zhi reached out to rub the tip of his nose, but he failed to control his strength. The tip of his nose, which had taken a direct hit, was still throbbing; the rub sent a wave of soreness to his eyes, nearly forcing out tears.

Su Zhi’s breath hitched for a moment as he restrained himself from letting out a groan of pain.

The man’s gaze followed Su Zhi’s hand, moving to the tip of his nose, and paused.

Su Zhi couldn’t see it himself, but the tip of his nose had turned a conspicuous red from the pain. It wasn’t just his nose; his neck, the back of his ears, and the corners of his eyes—areas where the skin was thin—were all flushed with a pale red. From the man’s high vantage point, it was clearly visible against his porcelain skin, looking as if he had been thoroughly toyed with and crushed.

Su Zhi usually maintained a cold and distant demeanor, looking like a “high mountain flower” or mountain mist—ethereal and untouchable, making people hesitant to approach even if they were attracted. But now, suddenly stained with color and with emotion in his eyes, he became abruptly vivid, showing a few traces of a lively temperament.

Like a rose that usually kept its petals tightly furled, he had been offensively brushed against, leaking a few hints of dew-scented fragrance.

Yet the owner of this state had no self-awareness. His eyes, misty with water, were lowered in embarrassment, his long lashes veiling his amber pupils like they were hiding a pale gemstone.

The man watched for a few seconds before shifting his gaze away before Su Zhi could notice the stare: “It’s alright. It was also my fault for not looking where I was going. I apologize.”

His voice remained steady, as if he didn’t care at all about the interlude of someone slamming into his chest, nor did he mind his ruffled clothing. He pivoted the conversation: “Is the flower shop still open? I’d like to order some flowers.”

Su Zhi blinked, startled: “It’s open.”

Su Zhi checked the inventory: “I’m sorry, the shop is out of S-grade White Camellias. The latest batch will take about five working days to arrive.”

The man had followed Su Zhi into the shop and said he wanted to buy several White Camellias, but only S-grade ones.

But he had arrived at an unfortunate time.

That order from this morning happened to take the last S-grade White Camellia in the shop. The new order hadn’t arrived yet, creating a gap in time.

Z-City had low foot traffic, so the shop didn’t keep much stock of various flowers. This wasn’t exactly a “proper” flower shop to begin with; it served as a semi-official external laboratory, with the shop serving as a front. Ordering and restocking were handled casually. Furthermore, because S-grade flowers were expensive and difficult to preserve, most shops wouldn’t keep them in stock; they would only order them when a customer requested.

Normally, facing a stockout, Su Zhi would just let it go. After all, he was only here to relax, not to truly work himself to death for a flower shop; he had no sales quotas to meet.

But because of the embarrassing blunder earlier, Su Zhi felt a bit guilty. Z-City was vast but sparsely populated with few flower shops; there was a high probability that other shops wouldn’t have S-grade White Camellias in stock either. Placing a new order with a supplier wouldn’t be as fast as the batch he had already ordered.

He hesitated for a moment before asking: “If you aren’t in a hurry, I can contact you when they arrive. Is that okay?”

“Mhm.” The man nodded. No emotion could be seen in his thick, dark eyes; he simply agreed to Su Zhi’s suggestion.

Without waiting for Su Zhi to ask, he took the initiative to write his communication ID on a nearby note and handed it to him.

Before he left, Su Zhi asked: “How should I address you?”

The man: “My surname is Xie.”

Su Zhi: “Alright, Mr. Xie. I will contact you then.”

The man: “I appreciate the trouble. Thank you.”

The man walked out of the flower shop, holding a dark umbrella, and stepped into the rustling rain. The large umbrella looked like a toy in his hand. Thick raindrops slanted against the surface of the umbrella. The man had long legs and walked quickly; within seconds, he merged into the night and vanished without a trace.

Before closing the shop, Su Zhi added the ID the man had left, then returned to his nearby temporary apartment. The flower shop did no online promotion and had no public account, so Su Zhi had to use his private account.

Before bed, Su Zhi finished washing up and curled into his blankets. His communicator suddenly chimed. Su Zhi picked it up and found a message from his mentor.

The mentor was asking about the status of experimental sample 0409.

Su Zhi’s mentor, Mu Qing, was an expert in developing pheromone agents from natural plants. Su Zhi had followed her since his graduate studies.

Using exogenous hormones to neutralize pheromones to alleviate the pain of heat and rutting periods was not a new concept. Synthetic pheromone inhibitors developed on similar principles had been on the market for over a hundred years and were widely used. However, the side effects of synthetic inhibitors were significant; some said that long-term use of synthetic inhibitors was no different from slow suicide.

In contrast, the natural inhibitors released by this specific plant, after proper extraction and processing, had side effects only 10% of those of synthetic ones—almost negligible by comparison.

About thirty years ago, scholars discovered a tiny number of plants in nature that could release a special substance that interacted with pheromones, mitigating the abnormalities Alpha and Omegas experienced due to pheromone disorders. When this discovery was first disclosed, it caused a frenzy in the industry. Countless scholars poured in, wanting to achieve something in this promising field and leave a significant mark on the history of pheromone research.

However, for some reason, pheromones seemed to carry a natural curse. These plants, after artificial cultivation and modification, not only saw a drop in effectiveness compared to the original mother plant but were also prone to mutating into various pathogenic traits, making large-scale production difficult to achieve. Scholars had tried various methods but had yet to make a breakthrough.

Because production couldn’t be scaled up, these natural inhibitors could not be popularized. The costs remained exorbitant, and they mostly circulated among the powerful and wealthy, becoming a luxury item.

Most of the scholars who had flooded in earlier had exited due to the lack of progress, but many persisted in their research. Even if mass production wasn’t possible, looking solely at the economic benefits, the project still had research value—not to mention that a lack of progress now didn’t mean a breakthrough would never be found. The future landscape was too grand, and many people continued to throw themselves into it one after another.

Su Zhi’s mentor, Mu Qing, was one of the experts deeply rooted in this field. She held a position at the Capital Research Institute and had an independent laboratory; she was quite well-known in the industry.

Su Zhi was very talented in research. During his graduate years, he could lead projects independently, and after graduation, he naturally stayed at the Capital Research Institute.

Su Zhi replied: “Health status is normal. In the first half of the month, the growth rate decreased by 13% compared to the lab average, but it returned to normal in the last week.”

Mentor: “That’s good. 0409’s adaptability to the environment is better than expected.”

The mentor didn’t ask further about the experimental sample. Su Zhi was calm and steady in his research; if he said everything was normal, there was absolutely no way a problem would occur.

She pivoted to personal matters: “Z-City has been in its rainy season for the past half month. Remember to carry an umbrella and take care of yourself.”

Su Zhi’s fingertips hovered over the screen for a moment before he asked: “‘I will. Is everything okay at the Institute?”

Su Zhi wanted to ask if the situation at the Institute was stable, but it wasn’t easy to ask directly. This vacation from the Institute had been very sudden—a notice with no warning. Furthermore, forcibly clearing out most of the researchers did not align with the basic principles of experimental research. It was less of a vacation and more of a quarantine.

Su Zhi didn’t understand much about worldly affairs; he was even a bit dull in that regard. He didn’t have much experience dealing with people. After leaving school, protected by his mentor, he had gone straight to work at the Capital Research Institute. His research progress had been smooth, and he had never personally experienced any schemes or power struggles between factions. Even after working for several years, he could still be described as having one foot still in the ivory tower.

But Su Zhi wasn’t entirely ignorant. Even if he hadn’t eaten pork, he had seen a pig run. This sudden vacation likely involved some hidden gambit. Su Zhi vaguely guessed it probably had to do with their research project. Research into natural pheromone inhibitors had always involved massive interests; it was a very sensitive project.

Su Zhi’s act of taking an experimental sample out of the lab fell into a gray area. If nothing happened, it was fine, but if something went wrong, he would be held accountable. Although he cared deeply about the research results, Su Zhi himself didn’t have the authority to take samples out of the lab. It was his mentor who signed the authorization form, taking full responsibility, so that Su Zhi could take 0409 with him on vacation, ensuring that this precious sample wouldn’t be affected by the turbulence.

Su Zhi didn’t know exactly what had happened. He couldn’t help with the things behind the scenes; he could only do his job well and take care of 0409.

The screen lit up.

Mentor: “It will take about two more months. Don’t worry about the Institute; nothing major is happening. Use this opportunity to rest and relax in Z-City. You haven’t taken a vacation in two years and have always stayed in the lab; it’s too tiring.”

“Z-City has beautiful scenery; you can go out and wander more, and communicate more with people. However, the Forbidden Zone has a mixed crowd; be a bit guarded when dealing with people. Your Senior Brother Wu is working nearby. I’ve already spoken to him; if you encounter any problems, find him to solve them. Use him as you wish.”

Su Zhi replied: “Okay.”

He was slightly dull and scatterbrained in daily life, giving his mentor the illusion that he couldn’t take care of himself. When he was at school, she was always concerned about his daily life; now that Su Zhi was out on vacation, she still wanted to find him a guardian.

Su Zhi felt his mentor was over-worried. He just didn’t care much about small life details; he wasn’t actually a blockhead. But since it was a kind gesture, it was hard to argue, so he could only obediently agree.

After chatting with his mentor, Su Zhi was about to close the communicator when a new message notification appeared. A stranger’s account had passed his friend request.

Oh, it’s the one I accidentally bumped into today—

Su Zhi quickly cut off that line of thought, stopping himself from thinking further. Just thinking of the scene made the bridge of his nose feel hot and itchy.

Su Zhi had originally intended to save the man as “Mr. Xie” in his contacts. He had intentionally and politely asked for the surname for this purpose. But now that the other party had accepted the request, Su Zhi saw that the account name was the simple and direct “Xie Yi”—seemingly the man’s real name.

Su Zhi: “…”

Well, that was a useless question. His attempt at applying human social skills was declared redundant.

Xie Yi’s profile picture was the system default of a dark landscape—very cold and distant, which matched the impression of the taciturn and steady man he had seen in the shop. Su Zhi wasn’t a talkative person, and even after adding him, he didn’t send a message. He closed the communication page and soon fell into a deep sleep amidst the sound of the rustling rain.

Perhaps because he had bumped his nose during the day, his sense of smell was very sensitive. In his half-awake, half-asleep state, Su Zhi vaguely smelled a faint scent of peppermint that hadn’t been washed away by body wash. In his dream, he wrinkled his nose a bit aggrievedly.

In another apartment, Xie Yi was listening to a subordinate report intelligence related to the Z-City Forbidden Zone.

If Su Zhi were here, he would find that the man’s aura was already completely different from what he had seen in the flower shop during the day. Although he still had a stoic expression, after shedding that layer of gentle and steady camouflage, a near-cruel indifference appeared in his eyes. His pitch-black pupils were even darker than the rainy night outside.

The indoor lights were cold white, hitting his handsome, almost inhuman face, making him look like a beautiful monster wearing a layer of human skin under the light.

The subordinate suddenly remembered something and mentioned: “Sir, is there a problem with that researcher today? Does he know about the matters at the Capital Research Institute?”

Xie Yi looked at him: “Highly likely he doesn’t.”

The subordinate nodded: “I think so too. This researcher’s life and social relationships are very simple. Aside from being close to Professor Mu, there’s nothing special. If I have to say something, it’s that he is indeed very good-looking.”

So good-looking that even someone like him, who was used to seeing all kinds of people, was deeply impressed.

For some reason, as soon as he finished speaking, the subordinate suddenly felt the surrounding air turn cold.

A cool scent of peppermint emerged in the air—it was faint, only a tiny amount had leaked out, but it instantly made the subordinate’s scalp tingle. His feet were nailed to the spot, and danger warnings blared frantically in his mind.

That was Xie Yi’s pheromones.

An Enigma’s pheromones.

Cold sweat broke out on the subordinate’s forehead. He didn’t dare look up. He remained motionless, slowing his breathing to the minimum, falling into an instinctive freezing response. He tried desperately to lower his presence to survive in the face of absolute hierarchy suppression.

Xie Yi was an Enigma.

Social public opinion said Alphas were aggressive, but that was because they didn’t know Enigmas existed. Enigmas resulted from a second differentiation of Alphas; their pheromones were even more dominant and violent than Alphas’, and they could even forcibly mark an Alpha. Because they were extremely few in number, to maintain social stability, the authorities intentionally suppressed the existence of Enigmas and blocked news of them; they were unknown to the general public.

The subordinate was already a high-level Alpha, but in front of an Enigma like Xie Yi, he didn’t even have a chance to run.

The room fell into a deathly silence.

It wasn’t until Xie Yi spoke that the eerie atmosphere was broken: “It’s nothing, I just spaced out for a moment.”

Subordinate: “Oh, oh.”

The danger was lifted. He reached out to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead. He didn’t dare discuss with Xie Yi whether he had truly spaced out or not, and pulled the topic back to the Forbidden Zone.

An Enigma’s pheromones were a minefield. Since an Enigma’s pheromone strength could crush an Alpha’s, the issues of Alpha pheromone excess and loss of control should theoretically appear doubled in an Enigma. No power that exceeds common sense comes without a price to pay. Xie Yi controlled himself very well every time he appeared in front of people; just now was an extremely rare lapse. But the subordinate knew this wasn’t because Xie Yi’s pheromones were “tame.”

Just a wisp of Enigma pheromones, and he had truly brushed shoulders with death just now.

The subordinate had vaguely heard some rumors; it was said that Enigma pheromones required special methods to be suppressed and handled. Xie Yi’s several months of recuperation previously should have been related to this. As for exactly what happened, those secrets were not for him to explore; it was better to ask fewer questions. As a veteran intelligence worker, the subordinate understood the principle that the less curiosity one has, the longer one lives.

In any case, back to the point. Their main mission in coming to Z-City was to delve into the Forbidden Zone to investigate the situation and push forward the process of lifting the ban. Half a year ago, a special information fluctuation source was detected at the center of the Forbidden Zone, and the risk level was assessed as high. If Alphas were sent to investigate, and their level wasn’t high enough to combat the source, it could easily trigger a pheromone riot, leading to disastrous consequences. So, it was ultimately decided that an Enigma would lead the execution. Since Xie Yi had been recuperating for the past few months, this mission had only just started now.

During this trip, investigating that Beta researcher who was in Z-City and involved in a sensitive research project was just incidental. It was a task Xie Yi had looked at and picked out at random; it wasn’t originally their job.

As he left his superior’s apartment, a sudden, abrupt doubt surfaced in the Alpha subordinate’s heart.

Wait, since that Beta isn’t a major suspect, why did the Superior specifically add his contact info?

On the surface, the Beta had proactively asked Xie Yi for his contact information. But before they actually made contact with that Beta named Su Zhi, they already had a detailed grasp of his personal profile, including the flower shop’s information, transaction status, ordering records, and so on.

Xie Yi had intentionally proposed to buy S-grade White Camellias, knowing full well they were out of stock.

He had also left his contact information while knowing full well that the flower shop didn’t have a public account.

From beginning to end, it was all Xie Yi intentionally inducing the other party.

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