Within just a few days, the Musheng Pharmaceuticals case rapidly fermented, becoming the only topic that occupied Lu Boyuan’s daily calls and news watching.

The case shook the entire healthcare, medical, and pharmaceutical sectors of Hecheng.

Its origin lay in a report made by an anonymous informant—a mid-level cadre of a top-grade hospital who had been imprisoned for eleven years for bribery. After nearly half a year of investigation and evidence collection, the police identified those involved. At that time, Fang Yongnian took the opportunity to provide key evidence of Musheng Pharmaceuticals’ commercial bribery and falsification during its IPO process, and anonymously reported General Manager Li Qun.

When Fang Yongnian submitted this evidence, he did not expect that his report would ultimately implicate two hospital directors from Grade-A tertiary hospitals, as well as the chairman, general manager, and deputy general manager of Musheng Pharmaceuticals—none of whom were spared.

Among those involved were three people who had sat at that dinner table that night.

It even dragged in a financial company in Huating City that Yu Hanfeng had invested in.

After Fang Yongnian went to Huating, he never returned to Hecheng. In those few days, Lu Boyuan was in a complete mess at home. After that dinner, he had gone to great lengths to smooth things over with several investors, begging and pulling strings with everyone he could. Yet now, he truly didn’t dare to use their funds anymore.

Who knew how many people the case would end up implicating? The entire pharmaceutical industry was in danger; to restart the original research drug development plan at such a sensitive time had become the lowest of all priorities.

Another piece of news that shocked Lu Boyuan was the rumor between Fang Yongnian and Yu Hanfeng.

That rumor, too, had been turned by reporters into a serialized story after Fang Yongnian went to Huating.

“Didn’t think the boy had that kind of ability,” Lu Boyuan said, his expression complicated.

According to the reports, Yu Hanfeng had fallen in love with him at first sight in the hospital, after his incident. To the always straightforward Lu Boyuan, if one could fall in love at first sight in a hospital, then it must truly be love.

After all, at that time, Fang Yongnian had such a bad temper that no one dared to go near him. Even his parents occasionally had to beg the thick-skinned Lu Yixin to help persuade him to eat.

If it really happened around that time, it might explain Fang Yongnian’s financial resources over the years.

“Could it be that boy is really innocent?” Lu Boyuan drank a mouthful of strong tea. Ever since that dinner, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, and his insomnia had gotten so bad he suspected he might soon go bald.

Professor Wu, who rarely visited their home, didn’t reply—he only sighed.

“If he didn’t do those things, why did he withdraw from the research institute?” Lu Boyuan finally voiced his doubts.

He had always believed that Fang Yongnian’s resignation after his sick leave ended was because he felt guilty.

And over these years, the way that boy looked at him—it was as though looking at an enemy. Every time he spoke a few words to him, he’d get a cold sneer in response, always dripping with sarcasm. He had thought it was a change in temperament brought by losing a leg, but now it seemed it might not be that simple.

Professor Wu picked up his teacup and drank a mouthful of the strong tea.

There was no particularly good tea in Lu Boyuan’s house, and at his age, such bitter, harsh tea could only upset his stomach. He frowned and set it aside.

Lu Boyuan didn’t notice.

His mind was filled entirely with thoughts of Fang Yongnian.

Had he, all these years, wronged him?

But why hadn’t he defended himself?

Within the industry, the rumor had already spread so widely that it was almost taken as fact that the reason their project back then lost its investors was because Fang Yongnian had leaked critical data.

That boy was never one with a good temper. If he had really been wronged that badly, why hadn’t he said a word?

“Let’s not talk about him anymore.” After a long silence, Professor Wu waved his hand.

He had grown much older these past two years. Once, he had been vigorous and full of spirit, but a few years ago, after that project’s downfall, he had fallen gravely ill for more than half a year, and his health had never quite returned to what it was before.

His hair had already turned completely white. Every afternoon, he had to sleep for half the day. He had gradually handed over many matters to Lu Boyuan and was slowly stepping back into a secondary role.

In the past two years, Professor Wu had mentioned his once-prized disciple, Fang Yongnian, less and less.

If the project were to be restarted, he and Fang Yongnian might never have any further connection.

There was, of course, regret in that—but this was indeed not the time to speak of such things.

“The key now is still investment,” Professor Wu said, sighing. “Though at this time it’s hard to say who would be suitable, I really can’t bear to give up.”

“The inflammatory target of Alzheimer’s discovered by the University of Bonn is completely consistent with the direction of our pharmaceutical research. If we can, within five to ten years, develop a safe NLRP3 inhibitor that can successfully cross the blood-brain barrier, then my life’s greatest dream might truly be realized.”

To inhibit or cure Alzheimer’s disease, this was the original intention for which their group had once been willing to take a thirty percent pay cut just to join the project and do research.

Lu Boyuan fell silent.

He poured the strong tea down his throat like it was plain water.

To restart this project, they had sought out countless experts, prepared endless data, and he had even been using his spare time from other projects to work on the preliminary synthesis of compounds for this one. In truth, he wanted to complete it more than anyone.

Two years ago, the world’s largest pharmaceutical company, Merck, announced the failure of its Phase III clinical trials for a new Alzheimer’s drug—a devastating blow to the entire beta-amyloid theory. Some gave up on the low-dose diabetes-drug strategy for treating Alzheimer’s; others abandoned their glutamate modulator BI409306; still others spent over seven hundred million dollars acquiring an antihistamine, only to fail and trigger mass layoffs across their neuroscience division.

For those like them, developing original drugs for neurodegenerative diseases, this event ushered in a long, harsh winter.

Now, just as spring thunder finally seemed to sound, the dawn of hope looked ready to be snuffed out again.

Not to mention Professor Wu, who had devoted his entire life to Alzheimer’s research—even he himself lay awake night after night, his heart heavy and blocked with frustration.

“There’ll always be a way,” Lu Boyuan said, uncertain whether he was comforting himself or Professor Wu. “As of now, there’s still no drug in the world that can treat or even delay Alzheimer’s. Aging is becoming a social issue in China. The market demand is enormous, we will find investment.”

Even if they could only slow the disease’s progression, it would already be an immense contribution.

Professor Wu patted Lu Boyuan’s hand, his increasingly aged face filled with yearning.

“I want to live to see that day.”

“Even if it’s just the project being officially approved, I want to live to see that day.”

That was the final wish of his life, the culmination of his lifelong dream.

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

If what happened afterward hadn’t occurred, Lu Boyuan might have gone on as usual—still torn over whether Fang Yongnian had leaked the project documents years ago, while putting most of his focus on restarting the research.

Just as their conversation was winding down, Professor Wu received a phone call. Before answering, he gestured for Lu Boyuan to step aside.

This was part of their usual routine. Professor Wu never liked taking calls with others present, so Lu Boyuan didn’t think much of it. He left the study to the professor and went to smoke in the living room.

Lately his sleep had been poor, leaving him often parched. When he picked up his cup to drink, he realized that the one he’d been using all afternoon was still in the study.

Without thinking, he walked toward the study and reached for the half-closed door—only to freeze when he heard the professor’s aged but furious voice from inside.

“Where am I supposed to find you that list?” the old man’s tone was filled with anger. “Where do you expect me to find you that list?!”

Lu Boyuan lowered his hand from the door handle and stood still.

“What else do you still want me to do?” The old professor’s voice was ragged, nearly reduced to wheezing breaths. “He’s also someone’s precious son, raised by his parents—just because you became disabled, what more do you want from him!!”

Lu Boyuan’s pupils shrank sharply, and he instinctively took a step back.

Because of his daughter, who loved eavesdropping, several doors in the house had been specially soundproofed; after stepping back, the professor’s voice became too muffled to make out clearly—only the faint traces of his continued shouting could be heard.

The kind filled with grief and anguish.

Lu Boyuan stood there motionless.

Among all the people they knew, the only disabled person was Fang Yongnian.

He recalled his suspicions, and also the way the professor had sighed and changed the subject earlier when Fang Yongnian’s name came up.

He rubbed his face hard.

He must have misheard.

He was definitely overthinking it…

Back then, Professor Wu had defended Fang Yongnian so strongly, and even after Fang had left the research institute for so many years, he still remembered to bring him back into the project.

Perhaps the professor knew some other disabled person. Besides, that car accident had been an accident—it wasn’t about anyone harming anyone.

He must not have been fully awake and was imagining things…

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

“Fang Yongnian still hasn’t come back?” Lu Boyuan was distracted during dinner.

Lu Yixin had been unusually well-behaved lately. Other than her daily lunch money increasing slightly, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Her lifelong best friend Zheng Ranran hadn’t told Lu Boyuan about her running away from home that time. She had only used it to blackmail her for a month’s worth of lunches.

Everything appeared calm and peaceful.

Except for the fact that she herself no longer felt the same.

“Not yet,” Lu Yixin said, scooping up a mouthful of rice.

There were only four dishes on the table, all richly sauced red-braised dishes. After several days of eating the same thing, she now thought that the most delicious food in the world was plain white rice.

Lu Boyuan hummed in response, still distracted.

Lu Yixin glanced at him.

She wasn’t in a good mood either. The love story between Fang Yongnian and Yu Hanfeng had become her daily lunchtime soap opera.

But the more she watched, the more wrong it seemed.

She had always clung tightly to Fang Yongnian; ever since his car accident and return to Hecheng, she had found time almost every day to hang around his shop.

The so-called love story the reporters described, she had never seen even a trace of it.

Unless Fang Yongnian had the ability to be in two places at once, those reports had to be fake.

She knew perfectly well that if he was creating fake rumors, it must have been for her. The rest of it—those so-called “adult matters”—she couldn’t understand.

She looked at Lu Boyuan again.

Her “leak mission” was still unfinished. Opportunities for her and her father to sit down and have a calm conversation were rare; most of the time, before she even opened her mouth, the two of them were already quarreling.

“Why are you looking for him?” Lu Yixin bit her chopsticks, deciding that today was a good time.

“I have something to discuss.” Lu Boyuan picked up a piece of red-braised winter melon and placed it into her bowl, warning, “Don’t be picky.”

Lu Yixin pulled a bitter face and stuffed the winter melon into her mouth.

“I saw a photo of his girlfriend on Weibo,” she mumbled through her food, her words muffled. “She looks really rich.”

Lu Boyuan frowned, sensing something wasn’t quite right. “You’ve been sticking around Fang Yongnian all this time and never saw his girlfriend?”

Only then did he recall that last month Liu Miqing had asked him to help find a match for Fang Yongnian. For the sake of restarting the project, and to find a reason to get closer to him, he had even introduced a few women. Though all of them had ended without result.

Lu Yixin: “…”

Swallowing her food, she once again despised her own intelligence.

At times like this, she really should’ve let Zheng Ranran possess her body.

“He doesn’t tell me everything…” she said vaguely, trying to muddle through.

Lu Boyuan thought about it but didn’t press further.

“But…” Lu Yixin pulled the topic back, “that woman really does seem rich.”

“Nonsense. Her father’s in the steel business.” Lu Boyuan replied absentmindedly, chatting idly with his daughter.

“No wonder…” Lu Yixin pretended to realize something. “I was just wondering how Uncle Fang could afford to open a pharmacy. I clearly remember his salary wasn’t even as high as yours.”

Lu Boyuan frowned.

Lu Yixin quickly covered it up by shoveling another spoonful of rice into her mouth.

It seemed… she had overdone her performance when pretending to “realize” something.

Her acting was terrible…

She really should have rehearsed with Zheng Ranran first.

“Who taught you to say that?” Lu Boyuan’s attention suddenly snapped back.

Lu Yixin: “…”

“What did Fang Yongnian tell you in private?” Lu Boyuan’s tone grew serious.

Lu Yixin knew she was terrible at lying. Even though her father only saw her a few times a year, he remembered vividly how poor her acting skills were whenever she lied.

That exaggerated look she had just now—her eyes almost popping out of her head—was far too suspicious.

There was no way a young girl would care about where an adult man’s money came from. The only explanation he could think of was that Fang Yongnian had planted the idea.

That boy, what was he trying to test?

For a moment, Lu Yixin panicked.

Zheng Ranran had told her to repeat everything she’d overheard—neither adding nor omitting anything. The more she said, the deeper the misunderstanding would grow. If she explained too clearly today, her father would definitely go confront Fang Yongnian.

“I overheard it,” she said carefully, one word at a time.

“I heard Uncle Fang talking on the phone with someone about the car accident. He said it wasn’t an accident.” She skipped the clumsy acting this time and went straight for the answer.

Then she looked at her father, just like the adults in TV dramas who had just suffered a shock. His hand went slack, and the rice bowl slipped from his grasp, crashing onto the floor with a loud clang.