Chapter 89: Replication Experiment 13
The door to Laboratory 9 opened for only a split second before seventeen or eighteen experimenters flooded in like a tide. They raised their hands high, staring at the administrator before them with hatred, shrieking over and over: “We want our wages!”
Shi Cheng backed away two steps, fine beads of cold sweat oozing from his forehead. Although he had noticed the change in the broadcast exercise music earlier, he never imagined that such a small alteration—the disappearance of the lyrics—could cause the experimenters to collectively mutate.
“Wages! Wages! Wages!”
The unified chant for unpaid salaries continued. More and more experimenters squeezed into Laboratory 9. They scrambled to tear at Shi Cheng’s body with their sharp, pointed hands. With a rip, their fingernails sliced through his white lab coat and into the skin beneath. Flesh rolled back, and bright red blood gushed out. Fighting the sudden, intense pain, Shi Cheng struggled to grab a syringe from the side. Without time to think, he stabbed it straight into the experimenter in front of him!
He was only a B-class evolver. In front of these monsters, he had almost no capability for hand-to-hand combat.
The green liquid was pushed all the way in. The experimenter let out a raspy hiss and collapsed to the ground. The death of their colleague silenced the other experimenters for a moment, but soon, a new wave of workplace rebellion rose up!
The furious experimenters swarmed forward. Shi Cheng dodged to the side and sprinted toward the corridor!
“Experimenter 055!” he screamed!
Zhang Yunxia stood at the end of the corridor, looking at him with the same angry eyes as the other experimenters, her hands also raised to demand wages. But there was a difference—amidst her rage, she carried a trace of exhaustion and confusion, as if preoccupied with her own thoughts.
Shi Cheng continued to shout “Experimenter 055” and loudly ordered: “You go—”
Squelch.
An experimenter’s sharp fingernail abruptly pierced through his cheek. Blood surged from Shi Cheng’s mouth and nose. His injured tongue swelled instantly, almost completely blocking his throat! Deprived of air, he gasped desperately, but his consciousness inevitably began to blur. The threat of death had come too suddenly; his brain had lost the ability to think. With his last shred of clarity, his trembling hand fumbled in his lab coat pocket for a syringe—
“Why won’t you give us our wages!”
The experimenters lifted him up flat!
Shi Cheng tried to stab the needle into his own arm, but due to weakness, the needle tip grazed past his skin. His wrist went limp, and the syringe slipped from his hand.
He stared wide-eyed, unwilling to accept this.
Bang!
In the final countdown of his life, an experimenter “flew” past his eyes from the ceiling.
Yi Ke punched and threw his way through, knocking aside the crowded experimenters in the corridor. In the split second before Shi Cheng’s throat was pierced by fingernails, he snatched the man into his own hands.
Shi Cheng’s mangled body went limp, looking completely devoid of vital signs. Yi Ke shouted loudly: “The administrator is dead!”
The experimenters screamed along with him: “The administrator is dead!”
But soon, someone retorted: “No! There is another administrator!”
Before the other experimenters could react, Yi Ke squeezed into the elevator first and furiously pressed the close button. Bang bang bang bang! Countless hands slapped angrily against the metal doors, shaking the elevator car. Dragging Shi Cheng with one hand, Yi Ke waited until the elevator stopped on the third floor. The moment the doors reopened, his other hand pulled the trigger.
The experimenters blocking the door were burned into charred corpses by the laser.
“Back off!”
A group of action team members rushed out of the Human Resources office. Wearing unified black uniforms and holding guns, they roared!
The experimenters were intimidated by this batch of newly hired security guards. Although they were still whispering unwillingly about “wanting wages,” they were no longer as violent as before. Under physical suppression, the experimenters temporarily chose to return to their labs to continue working.
Qinggang looked at the bloody mess that was Shi Cheng and asked in shock: “Why is he so squishy?”
Outside the rules zone, they had thought the big boss of NewCause Biotech was inside researching some peerless evolution drug. Turns out, as soon as they entered, they learned he was almost dead—and he indeed looked almost dead.
“His tongue was pierced by a monster,” Yi Ke said, lifting Shi Cheng’s head to minimize the risk of suffocation.
Fortunately, they had blood samples now, so they could add new employees at any time. New employees brought new blood samples, essentially opening a one-way door from outside the rules to inside. Doctors could enter too. They laid Shi Cheng flat on the office desk and began emergency resuscitation.
Only then did Zhuang Ningyu have time to ask Yi Ke: “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Yi Ke looked at Shi Cheng, who was surrounded by doctors, and asked doubtfully, “Can’t he control this rules zone?”
“I thought he could too, but it seems not.” Zhuang Ningyu thought of “Administrator 001,” who existed only in the system. 001 was likely the true master of this rules zone. Violent suppression could only maintain stability for a very short time. He had to find the secret of the rules zone and leave before the next riot occurred.
…
The boundless Atlantic Ocean swallowed all light at midnight. Ink-like night flowed between sea and sky. The salty, cold sea wind slapped against the face, leaving a sticky, unbreakable shell.
Fu Han frowned with slight disgust. He turned to go back to the cabin, but a bodyguard ran over hurriedly: “Boss, someone caught up to the ship in a speedboat. They say they need to see you.”
He asked unhappily: “Who?”
The bodyguard replied: “He claims to be a friend of Mr. Zhuang.”
In the reception room, the loudmouthed friend wiped seawater from his face and said, “Zhuang-ge entered the NewCause Biotech rules zone alone. Did you know?”
Fu Han sat on the sofa with his legs crossed and shook his head: “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you know.” There was no signal in this sea area, so the friend didn’t know that Yi Ke and the Order Maintenance Department had already found a way into the rules zone. In his mind, Zhuang-ge was still struggling alone against a group of monsters. So he pressed further, “Are you familiar with this rules zone?”
Fu Han replied: “Not familiar.”
“…” The friend confirmed again, “Really?”
“I have never had any contact with NewCause Biotech.” Fu Han asked with a puzzled look, “Why would you think I’m related to it?”
It wasn’t I who thought so; it was the esteemed group owner of the “Super Perfect Human Praise Group” who thought so. But obviously, there was no need to say that out loud. The friend stood up: “Then I apologize, President Fu. Sorry to disturb you.”
“Take care. I won’t see you out.” Fu Han watched him leave politely.
The small yacht went full throttle, driving back into the depths of the ocean amidst the roar of the powerful engine and the sound of waves. Fu Han stood behind the railing for a long time, his face ashen, his eyes as deep as the night. His well-tailored suit was soon soaked by the sea breeze. A moment later, rain began to rustle down, dripping from his jet-black hair, drop by drop, onto his pale, bloodless neck.
“Boss.” The bodyguard stood behind him and reminded him carefully, “The party is about to start.”
Fu Han turned and went back to the cabin.
…
Zhuang Ningyu entered Laboratory 9. Syringes and reagents of various colors were scattered all over the tables and floor. The experimenter who had fallen to the ground also had a syringe sticking out of him; he had long since stopped breathing.
Yi Ke said, “Since Shi Cheng had drugs capable of killing monster experimenters, why didn’t he use them to build a safer living environment for himself?”
“Because he isn’t the creator of this rules zone, just a user.” Zhuang Ningyu compared the names of the reagents on the table. “Someone told Shi Cheng that this place was absolutely safe, and he believed it.”
Yi Ke had originally thought the mastermind behind this was Fu Han. But just now, during the riot, the experimenters attacked not only Shi Cheng but also Zhuang Ningyu. Although he found the guy named Fu as annoying as a slug, he felt that even Fu wouldn’t go that far on this point.
His phone vibrated buzz buzz. It was his friend, who had finally managed to scrape up a signal on the sea surface.
“I found Fu Han,” the voice on the other end shouted. “I told him Zhuang-ge was trapped alone in the NewCause Biotech rules zone and it was very dangerous. I asked if he had any ideas, but he looked cold and said he knew nothing, and didn’t show any intention of coming with me. There were at least five bodyguards in the reception room, so I really couldn’t kidnap him by force. I left first.”
Through the crackling noise on the receiver, Zhuang Ningyu put on gloves and sorted the reagents into a box: “You sent someone to find Fu Han?”
“Yeah.” Yi Ke hung up the phone. “I was worried about you and thought he was highly suspicious. Plus, I had a friend in the nearby waters.”
Your friends really are everywhere. Zhuang Ningyu laughed, looked up at him, and said softly: “Forget about Fu Han. I’ll figure out a way to get everyone out.”
Yi Ke gave a grunt of acknowledgment and helped seal the box of reagents. Seeing no one around, he leaned in and planted a heavy kiss on his wife’s face.
Zhuang Ningyu dodged: “Working.”
Yi Ke followed behind him and said righteously: “It’s precisely because we’re working that I only kissed you once.”
Zhuang Ningyu was persuaded. That made sense.
“Captain Zhuang,” Zhong Mu’s voice came through the earpiece. “Zhang Yunxia covered her ears and barged into the Purification Room again. The purification time this time is 99:99:99.”
It didn’t really require 99 hours; this was just the maximum value the display could show. Six nines meant the purification time was unknown. Zhang Yunxia’s symptoms of mental pollution were gradually intensifying.
Zhong Mu continued: “She looks like she’s having a complete breakdown, almost hysterical. She squatted at the door and vomited wildly for a long time. Another intern experimenter tried to enter, but she slapped her hard across the face, knocking her out on the spot.”
The faint was brief. More than ten seconds later, the intern woke up. Looking at the closed Purification Room door and clutching her stinging face, she muttered “no wages, no benefits” while wandering the corridor like a walking corpse. Suddenly, seeing something unknown, she squatted down and quickly touched the corner of the wall.
“Hey! What are you doing!” The newly appointed security guard strode over with his gun.
“N… nothing.” The intern hurriedly stood up straight, clutching tightly what she had picked up. It was the extremely precious micro-syringe that had slipped from Shi Cheng’s hand earlier. The sharp needle pierced her skin. A moment later, she timidly let go and handed the empty syringe to the guard: “I saw some medical waste here. Don’t know who dropped it.”
The guard took the syringe and watched her suspiciously as she entered Laboratory 12.
…
Following Zhuang Ningyu’s instructions, Zhong Mu copied a version of NewCause Biotech’s “Healthy NewCause People” from outside the rules zone and played it in a random laboratory. Although the tune and lyrics were identical, it clearly didn’t have any positive soothing effect. On the contrary, it made the experimenters even more agitated. If not for the row of dark, violent weapons at the door, they nearly started another wave of wage protests!
“So noisy!” A shrill voice rang out. “How are we supposed to experiment! Get out!”
“Get out!”
“We want a quiet working environment!”
“Complain about noise pollution! We want to complain about noise pollution!”
It was chaos.
The self-copied broadcast exercise music was ineffective.
From time to time, experimenters pushed medical gurneys through the corridor. When passing “Respected Administrator 002’s” office, they would invariably cast looks of extreme hatred. A new riot was on the verge of breaking out, yet Zhuang Ningyu remained unhurried, still sitting behind his desk playing his word puzzle game.
“What ‘false’? Holiday?” Qinggang asked. “Do the experimenters want a holiday?”
“No.” Zhuang Ningyu’s gaze didn’t leave the table. “I had Zhong Mu communicate with the experimenters just now, promising holidays and a bunch of invisible pie-in-the-sky benefits, but it didn’t work. They kicked her out.”
“Don’t let Xiao Zhong do the capitalist pie-drawing thing; she’s not good at it.” Qinggang’s gaze landed on his younger brother.
Yi Ke immediately said: “Don’t look at me. I’m not good at it either.”
“Being good at it wouldn’t help. The experimenters in this rules zone only need that brainwashing song from the broadcast. Nothing else counts as a valid benefit to them.” Zhuang Ningyu propped up his head. “Besides, the writing on the wall wasn’t written by an experimenter. Judging by the height, it was left by a test subject lying on a medical gurney.”
Test subjects didn’t need holidays. And test subjects lying on gurneys were usually heading toward the end of their lives. At such times, they would only leave last words—like angry accusations or unfulfilled wishes.
The strokes on the wall were really messy. Zhuang Ningyu stared for a while until he felt dizzy, so he leaned his head back against the chair. Yi Ke rubbed his palms together to warm them, then skillfully covered Zhuang Ningyu’s eyes. Qinggang watched, stunned. Is workplace competition this fierce now? No wonder Captain Zhuang takes Xiao Yi everywhere. Look at this service. If it were me, I’d bring him too.
The heat from the palms spread over his thin eyelids, relaxing Zhuang Ningyu’s tense nerves. A moment later, he moved Yi Ke’s hands away but couldn’t bear to let go, so he interlaced their fingers. Yi Ke took the opportunity to lean down, propping his other hand on the back of the chair, his breath falling gently beside Zhuang Ningyu’s ear. Together, they looked at the scattered strokes on the paper.
Qinggang stood opposite them. He didn’t feel anything wrong with this picture; he even actively pulled up a chair and also joined this harmonious family. Everyone analyzed together.
Zhuang Ningyu covered the “false” (假) that was already confirmed, revealing only the remaining strokes.
Yi Ke, however, held his wrist and gently moved it to the left.
“What do you mean?” Zhuang Ningyu asked, puzzled.
“This half is certain, but the single-person radical might not be.” Yi Ke turned his head and said hesitantly, “Could it be that these aren’t horizontal strokes, but dots?”
“You mean… dots… Xia (Rosy Clouds/Summer)?” Zhuang Ningyu’s heart suddenly jumped.
Thud. Qinggang slapped the table heavily: “Zhang Yunxia!”
This was a word left by a certain test subject for Zhang Yunxia.
Zhuang Ningyu said: “I think I know who it is.”
Translation Notes:
(Note: The character reconstruction relies on visual similarity of strokes. The text implies they first thought it was “False” (假), but realized the strokes could form “Xia” (霞/夏) which relates to Zhang Yunxia.)
