Transmigrated into a Trashy A and Ended Up with My Grudge-filled Best Friend and My Own CP - Chapter 73

In the deepest surgery room of the AZ Special Research Facility,

The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood as several white-coated doctors busied themselves around the operating table.

Lying on the table was a child, their face deathly pale, body trembling violently as they struggled incessantly. A sheen of cold sweat covered their snow-white forehead.

Amidst the series of incisions and dissections, their limbs began to convulse, their voice grew hoarse, and their nasal passages became blocked.

Veins bulged on their forehead as they endured the excruciating pain from the surgical cuts.

“Heart rate at 134 bpm, blood pressure dropping rapidly.”

“Respiratory rate at 52 breaths per minute!”

“Ali, intubate now!”

Separated by two layers of glass, a tall man stood watching, his eyes dark and brooding, his hawk-like gaze fixed unwaveringly on the surgical scene inside.

Lan Bo approached with two cups of warm water, his gaze settling on the tense man. A gentle smile curled at his lips as he said, “Boss Zou, please take a seat. This surgery will likely take quite a while longer.”

He handed one of the cups over.

The man accepted it politely, addressing him by name, “Professor Lan Bo.”

The two sat side by side on blue chairs, facing the surgery unfolding like a film. Lan Bo began explaining casually, “This is a Grade A Alpha gland, with a cedarwood scent. It belongs to a child who just presented in the slums.”

“Freshly harvested.”

“Right now, they’re working on excising the gland from the child’s nape.” Lan Bo’s voice trailed off as he turned his head, meeting the man’s gaze. He chuckled softly, teasing, “What’s the matter, Boss Zou?”

“Staring at me like that is making me a little self-conscious.”

The man’s expression was grave as he scrutinized this new guide assigned to him. “I just didn’t expect someone of your standing, Professor Lan Bo, to be involved in gland experiments.”

Lan Bo smiled faintly, lowering his eyelids as he took a sip of warm water to soothe himself. “Now, Boss Zou, that’s not fair. No matter my status, I’m just an ordinary person at heart. All I want in this life is to devote myself to academia, to creation, and to the study of life itself.”

The man studied Lan Bo quietly, weighing his words.

Finally, he sighed. “Professor Lan Bo, your ideals are truly lofty.”

Lan Bo nodded with a smile. “Thank you for the praise.”

“The success rate of the surgery has improved significantly. Even though Miss Zou is undergoing a second modification, the odds of success won’t be too low.”

Adjusting the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, Lan Bo continued cheerfully, “Moreover, Miss Zou’s compatibility with that S-grade gland is as high as 90%. Truly remarkable. That will further increase the success rate of the transplant.”

The man had other concerns. “When will the surgery take place? The police commissioner has already noticed something amiss.”

At his question, Lan Bo’s demeanor darkened. A strange glint flashed behind his glasses, sharp and calculating, sending a chill down the man’s spine.

“There’s no need for you to worry about that, Mr. Zou. We need the Omega receiving the gland to be in optimal health, of course, but the procedure won’t be delayed for long.”

“Hmm.” The man averted his gaze, his deep voice slightly hoarse.

After passing through several metal doors, they arrived at the storage chamber. Rows upon rows of glands were preserved here, refrigerated and categorized from Alpha to Omega, from Grade A to Grade D, lined up densely, a sight both methodical and overwhelming.

The carrier room was small, with dim lighting. Inside the newly sealed glass cabinet was something the size of a bloody meatball, encased within.

Lan Bo ran her fingers over the refrigerated cabinet, gazing at it. Her tongue lightly pressed down, the metallic taste of blood spreading in her mouth. The pain on her tongue brought her a strange sense of pleasure, her brows relaxing. “What a beautiful gland.”

“I wonder what an S-class gland would look like.” As she spoke, Lan Bo closed her eyes, her mind conjuring vivid images. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation.

“Lan Bo.”

A cold voice shattered her pleasant reverie.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Lan Bo turned sideways, offering a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “If you don’t have a good reason for interrupting my appreciation of this high-grade gland, I might get angry.”

Aili kept her expression icy, lowering her voice. “Assistant Wang is here. She’s waiting at the door.”

“Hmm?” Lan Bo frowned, reluctantly pulling her gaze away. “What does she want? I thought the Wangs were supposed to be trading goods on Waste Planet 329.”

“No idea. She’s here for you, so just go see her.” Aili shook her head slightly, equally puzzled.

Halfway out, Aili paused. “By the way, why aren’t you calling her Miss Zou anymore?”

“Ah!” Lan Bo’s expression remained unreadable as she pursed her lips, tilting her head. “Did you plant a bug on me?”

Aili countered, “So what if I did?”

The sheer audacity of her response made Lan Bo swallow her next words. She mumbled, “Well, I suppose you can.”

“But the way you’re acting makes me deeply suspect you might have a crush on me.”

Aili’s face darkened. With a derisive “Hah,” she stomped hard on his polished leather shoe. “Then go die.”

“President Zong Jia, no!”

“Zong Jia!”

Her eyes flew open, an unfamiliar tightness in her chest. Ding Moyan sat up abruptly, her ears drooping, a heavy sense of unease weighing on her. She had dreamed of Zong Jia. Ever since learning of the President’s disappearance, even though the System Panel confirmed she was safe, Ding Moyan couldn’t shake the tension coiling inside her.

She needed to find her and fast. A trip back to the Ding family was necessary.

The Ding family’s main residence in the southern district’s Fourth Courtyard was the last known location tied to the President’s disappearance.

By now, it was already 5 a.m. Ding Moyan pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples, exhaling deeply to steady her frayed nerves.

The Rose Apartment complex was silent in the early morning, the interior just as quiet.

“Nightmare?”

The sudden voice beside her ear, accompanied by a warm breath, startled her out of her thoughts. Ding Moyan turned her head sharply.

The balcony door stood ajar, though she hadn’t noticed it opening. There stood Ye Ye, barefoot in a pink princess nightgown, leaning slightly forward with an amused smile.

“When did you get here?”

“Oh, and I’m not the only one. Officer Mo took a peek at you earlier too.” Ye Ye flicked on the small lamp by the balcony, shamelessly calling attention to the figure pouring hot water on the sofa.

Mo Tang stiffened slightly.

“Mostly because you were talking in your sleep pretty loudly, too.” Ye Ye pouted, blinking her big, innocent eyes.

Ye Ye was undeniably charming, especially now, dressed in her sleepwear, hair tousled, fresh from waking up. It gave her a different kind of allure.

“Mo Yan, jiejie.”

Early in the morning, hearing Ye Ye call her “sister,” Ding Moyan’s face twisted bitterly, goosebumps rising on her arms.

Ding Moyan had long realized that whenever Ye Ye addressed her in that sickly sweet tone, trouble was sure to follow.

“Sister, did you know your sleep-talking was incredibly lewd?”

“?” Ding Moyan looked bewildered. Having just woken up, she still vaguely remembered her dream.

It was nothing special just dreaming about being chased by a crowd alongside the President. They’d fled through a maze until cornered in a dead end, where a mutated, mobile man-eating flower lunged at the President. She’d drawn her sword to block it, only to be jolted awake by the flower’s gaping maw.

Ye Ye casually tied up her hair, which kept brushing against her eyes, with a hairband.

With utter seriousness, she said, “Hmm… Sister Moyan, you’re quite creative. You said you wanted to ***, then ***, and finally ***.”

In the living room, Mo Tang’s hand trembled, spilling some of the warm water from her glass.

The calm on Ding Moyan’s face shattered instantly. Her feet turned cold, and her body stiffened like a rod: “…” What the hell is this?

Noticing the police officer sitting behind Ye Ye, Ding Moyan’s mood plummeted further, her expression crumbling.

Mo Tang and the President didn’t get along, but at the very least, Mo Tang was the President’s cousin. If she and the President were together, would that make her and Mo Tang sisters-in-law? The thought made Ding Moyan grind her teeth.

Especially when Mo Tang calmly set down her glass and fixed her with a probing gaze, Ding Moyan wished she could dig a hole in the ground and bury herself and take that troublemaker Ye Ye with her.

“Nonsense.”

“Ye Ye, shut up. I didn’t dream anything like that, and I’m not stupid enough to say such things out loud.” Ding Moyan’s face burned red, her temple throbbing.

“But Sister Moyan really did dream it! In the first half, you kept murmuring about this and that. If you don’t believe me, ask Officer Mo.” Ye Ye spread her hands magnanimously, her demeanor so unshakable that Ding Moyan wavered, unsure.

Could she have had some unspeakable erotic dream alongside the survival horror?

As the topic shifted to her, Mo Tang glanced sideways, her cool gaze sweeping over the two girls on the balcony.

Under Ding Moyan’s desperate stare, Mo Tang parted her lips indifferently: “No idea. Normal people sleep at night.”

The implication was clear Ye Ye wasn’t normal. But Ye Ye wasn’t offended; instead, she grinned and played along.

Rubbing her chin, she teased, “Heh, Moyan-moyan, you’re really not honest, are you?”

Ding Moyan felt her heart constrict, her expression darkening. Her fingers, hidden in her sleeves, trembled she couldn’t even defend herself properly.

“You’re lying.”

Ye Ye was indeed lying, making it all up just to rile Ding Moyan up and enjoy her flustered reactions.

“Ye Ye, stop stirring up trouble for no reason.” Ding Moyan clenched her fists, knuckles whitening.

Ye Ye, ever perceptive, noticed Ding Moyan’s emotional turmoil immediately, it was adorable and entertaining.

Her eyes rolled playfully as she smirked, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance.

“Well, if you won’t believe me, what can I do?”

Her tone was downright infuriating. Ding Moyan’s fists itched.

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