Volume One, Chapter 19: Whatever Happens, Don’t Let Anything Go Wrong

Late at night, accompanied by the roar of the engine, the interior of the car was engulfed in complete silence.

At this moment, Ran Yi was on the verge of doubting his own sanity. He glanced sideways at the girl beside him with a wary eye.

It was Tang Hui—he couldn’t have been mistaken. But then, who was the person he had just seen leave?

Ran Yi took out his phone and sent Tang Hui over a dozen messages in quick succession, but there was no reply. Growing increasingly anxious, he called her, only to be met with silence.

How could something so unusual happen?

Song Qi, who was driving, glanced at the rearview mirror, seemingly noticing Ran Yi’s unease.

“Hey, little brother, why so nervous?”

“No... I just—”

Feeling awkward, Ran Yi inadvertently looked at Tang Hui again, only to be startled by the strange, unfamiliar look in her eyes—exactly like the one she had in the interrogation room.

She parted her lips slightly and uttered a chilling phrase that sent shivers down Ran Yi’s spine.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re going to the other shore to welcome rebirth.”

Hu Chuan smirked ambiguously. “Yeah, the young lady isn’t even nervous—heading to the other shore, back to where it all began, to greet the new life.”

Ran Yi was utterly baffled by their conversation. Yet, his emotions settled somewhat; regardless of whether the Tang Hui before him was real or not, his purpose remained unchanged.

Besides, having Tang Hui here would better simulate the true circumstances of that night.

The sedan slowly pulled up in front of the Stonehouse Building. Suddenly, Hu Chuan spoke up.

“Xiao Song, I’ll take her upstairs first and have Zou Yao warm up the experimental equipment. You guys wait here a bit.”

“Got it.”

Song Qi’s reply carried a faint note of reluctance.

After Hu Chuan left, Ran Yi couldn’t help but ask, “Why aren’t you coming upstairs with us?”

“I’m Song Qi. Just call me Sister Qi from now on.”

Song Qi glanced at the rearview mirror and clicked her tongue disdainfully.

“It’s all because of that precious son of his. Every experiment, some kind of nonsense. Like he’s afraid no one knows about him.”

The Zou Yao Song Qi mentioned was a complete lunatic and incompetent fool. Every time an experiment was conducted, he’d argue with Professor Hu—either begging to halt the experiment or demanding to participate. Of course, Professor Hu never agreed. If Zou Yao happened to drink, he’d cause a huge scene, smashing experimental equipment and even threatening to set fire to the Source Laboratory.

“Zou Yao’s threatened volunteers more than once before. The professor probably went upstairs first to find a reason to get him out of the way.”

Ran Yi cautiously asked, “I noticed Zou Yao is always acting out of sorts, not like a decent person. And since he’s not involved in the core research, why is he still in the lab?”

Ran Yi had only learned from Wang Xu that Song Qi and Zou Yao had a long-standing grudge but was unaware of the details.

Song Qi sighed helplessly. “I don’t understand Professor Hu either. He’s not even his biological child, yet he treats him like his own son.”

According to Song Qi, Professor Hu strictly divided the core work of the Source Laboratory into three parts: Song Qi handled front-end data monitoring, sample collection, and post-experiment data compilation; Hu Chuan personally interacted with the subjects. Although both Song Qi and Hu Chuan had access keys to the lab, Song Qi’s access was usually restricted. Infrastructure maintenance and post-experiment cleanup were entirely Zou Yao’s responsibility—controlling the room, resetting equipment, cleaning the site.

But as Song Qi put it, Zou Yao didn’t even know what the Source Laboratory looked like and wasn’t worthy to be mentioned in the same breath.

“What about emergencies?” Ran Yi clearly remembered that when he and Bai Chen’s group arrived at the Source Laboratory’s door, it was Song Qi who opened it.

“The Source Laboratory’s key is divided into two parts: internal and external. What I mentioned before is the external key, the one needed to open the door. This key links a chip embedded in the arm with a metal key; both must match simultaneously to unlock the door.”

In other words, only the key holder themselves can open the door.

“Professor Hu’s key has administrator privileges. Occasionally, when he’s too busy, he grants me permission to open the door. Or in extreme cases—if the chip inside the professor can’t detect his vital signs, it will automatically grant me emergency access.”

“What about the internal key, Sister Qi?”

“The internal key is more complicated. As far as I know, only the professor can—”

Before she finished, Hu Chuan’s message interrupted Song Qi.

“Stop telling stories to the kid. Come upstairs.”

“How does he know...” Ran Yi gasped sharply. The conversation he had just tried to probe about the laboratory’s inner workings was completely monitored by Hu Chuan.

Song Qi shrugged helplessly. “That’s the professor for you—always vigilant, always keeping a backup plan.”

Is that really so? Ran Yi silently questioned. If there truly was a backup, would his death have been so sudden?

The furnishings inside the Source Laboratory were no different from before, except for a few more staff members in the external lab. Song Qi patiently explained that a recent biotech project had attracted investors, forcing them to work overtime.

Ran Yi pretended to be seeing everything for the first time. Unlike last time, this time he noticed that the entire Source Laboratory was subdivided into over twenty departments.

“Many volunteers are obviously more interested in the outside,” a middle-aged man approached. Song Qi added, “That’s Chen Tong, the head of the external lab. The brain-neural composite supplement that’s caught attention was developed by his team.”

“Brain-neural composite supplement?” Whenever anything related to the brain was mentioned, Ran Yi’s guard instinctively rose.

Chen Tong smiled as he explained, “Simply put, it’s an artificial cloning of neuron-like cells combined with the patient’s brain neurons to delay neural aging. If clinical trials go smoothly, it will greatly improve the quality of life for the elderly.”

“Enough, enough. He studied liberal arts in college—he won’t understand your fancy talk,” Song Qi said coldly as she approached Chen Tong’s back.

“Better watch what you say, or you might lose your job.”

Ran Yi sensed the tension but said nothing, following Song Qi through the first security checkpoint.

The corridor was as usual, though the lighting seemed dimmer.

“Strange, can’t reach the professor,” Song Qi complained.

“Could it be that the professor has already started the experiment? Stay here and don’t move—I’ll check the monitoring room.”

Ran Yi obediently found a place to sit but his heart was anything but calm.

He checked his phone again; Tang Hui still hadn’t replied. The time was 11:55 PM—three hours before the experiment was scheduled to begin in the real world. Logically, Hu Chuan and Tang Hui should be negotiating or gathering information now, so why was there no sign of Hu Chuan?

Occasionally, a few researchers passed through the first checkpoint carrying documents, but no one spoke. The silent atmosphere filled Ran Yi with a sense of foreboding.

Please, let nothing go wrong...