Fortunately, Yin Tongguang caught it early. He angrily asked a moderator friend to delete the post, and even double-checked that the poster was only mouthing off and hadn’t actually taken money to share the uncensored photos.
Even so, Yin Tongguang was still furious and called the person directly.
That student was from a different department. The reason they shipped Yan-Qiu at all was because they spent too much time idling on the forums. Since they weren’t from the clinical school, they rarely saw the two in person. Finally spotting the legendary OO couple, they got overexcited and snapped a photo.
Thankfully, the person had at least some morals—they remembered to blur the image before posting it, and when others flooded them with WeChat requests, they managed to resist.
“I didn’t take any money! And I didn’t add anyone on WeChat either!”
Although Yin Tongguang had now become a pitiful Beta living alone, he still habitually worried over this unmentionable secret romance. He nagged that careless poster like an old parent before hanging up.
But just before the line disconnected, the other stubbornly retorted:
“If they dare to flaunt such a forbidden romance so openly, they should be prepared to be watched!”
Yin Tongguang nearly choked and wanted to run to the hospital for oxygen:
“…Forbidden romance???”
Did this kid even know how to use words properly?!
Forbidden romance—was that what this was supposed to mean?!
He was about to keep scolding the word choice when the other, still obstinate, simply hung up.
Yin Tongguang: “…”
Listening to the beeping tone, he rolled his eyes up at the dorm ceiling.
They don’t know a damn thing!!!
Meanwhile, because of internal strife among KB’s executives, not just the affiliated hospital but hospitals nationwide began slowing down their rollout efforts. Some opportunistic media dug up the articles Yu Zhenghao had published over the past few days, and once the two narratives overlapped, conspiracy theories flourished.
Some tried to whitewash KB, claiming it was just a power struggle among the higher-ups. Whether the executive’s daughter had really suffered adverse effects from the company’s inhibitor remained uncertain. This sudden scandal, they argued, was only an excuse to delay the product launch due to profit-sharing disputes—the 3.0 inhibitor itself had no issues.
Of course, others took a more shocking stance, insisting the executive’s daughter incident was true, that KB’s R&D had long known about such problems and deliberately concealed them. Some even spun darker rumors, saying KB had conducted inhumane experiments for the drug and that countless innocent Omegas had suffered…
Others directly pointed to KB’s flawed ownership structure, internal discord among management, and weak technical execution—spinning entire corporate-drama storylines out of it.
While everyone was busy speculating, the president of Qicheng Medical University was the first to step forward.
Liang Chen stated that, after thoroughly understanding the facts, he respected Yu Zhenghao’s article even more. He condemned KB Pharmaceuticals for disregarding basic medical ethics, calling their behavior disgraceful. And after the scandal broke, instead of taking responsibility, they merely halted their market push without any explanation—unworthy of their current scale and unfit to monopolize the inhibitor industry.
He publicly announced that, effective immediately, the university would reclaim the two advanced laboratories it had lent KB under prior agreements, dissolve all research teams collaborating with them, and suspend other partnerships with the company.
A stone thrown into the lake stirred up a thousand waves.
Qicheng Medical University was already one of the nation’s top medical schools, with substantial influence in the field. Now, being the first to issue an open condemnation, it set the tone—soon, even the fence-sitting media had no way to keep defending KB, and one after another followed suit, criticizing the company.
Medical students at Qicheng who had been gossiping before: ???
Why are we suddenly part of this drama?
Was the president really this bold?!
Under the mounting pressure, KB issued a statement claiming slander and defamation. They put on a show by releasing a lawyer’s letter, saying their legal team would reach out to Yu Zhenghao to “understand the situation.”
But Yu Zhenghao had faced such tactics before and showed no fear. At first, he’d worried these students might be intimidated, but once he met with them, he realized his worries were unnecessary.
If they were afraid, they wouldn’t have chosen to stand up in the first place.
This time, even Xu Yishu came along, saying that since he also counted as a piece of evidence, it felt safer to be with them.
“KB says they won’t issue any further response. At most, they’ll send a lawyer to meet with us,” Yu Zhenghao told the group. “You need to be mentally prepared for that.”
They understood and waited at the agreed place.
Yu Zhenghao reminded them that KB’s representative might not even be anyone important. But when they arrived at the appointed location, they didn’t expect to run into someone familiar.
“Jiang Xinglan?”
When the man in a black trench coat stood before them, several people who recognized him couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise.
Jiang Xinglan had joined KB through his mentor’s recommendation. Because of his strong professional ability, he was the most outstanding among the many legal interns. Normally, he handled only internal company matters, but after just two idle days, he was suddenly assigned to this case.
The head of the legal team also knew this wasn’t a simple matter. But since he was tied up with other urgent company issues, he sent Jiang Xinglan instead. He only reminded him to watch his words carefully—stall if needed, gather information first, and then report back to the legal team so the entire group could decide how to respond.
He hadn’t expected to run into these people.
In fact, Jiang Xinglan had long since let go of any personal feelings for Liang Yan. Still, facing him so suddenly under such different circumstances felt slightly awkward.
But since things hadn’t ended on bad terms between them, he politely greeted the group.
Meanwhile, Yin Tongguang was silently comparing Jiang Xinglan with Lai Qiutong in his heart, trying to decide who came off as more “Alpha.” His eyes swept back and forth between the two, pretending to be casual, and in the end, he firmly crowned his goddess as the champion.
And because there were outsiders present, the pair of Omegas in love weren’t clinging to each other, appearing relatively normal.
Only Xu Yishu, who knew nothing about the situation, pointed at the well-mannered yet almost overly polite Alpha in front of them and asked softly, “You… know each other?”
Yin Tongguang quickly explained the situation in a few words.
“Oh, oh.” Xu Yishu, still a little shy around strangers, had only just gotten used to being with Ji Qiu and the others. Since it was said he was a friend, he tentatively reached out his hand. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Jiang Xinglan showed a perfectly measured smile and shook hands with this seemingly naive Omega.
He glanced at the Omega standing beside him, still not fully understanding why this stranger was here.
But he wasn’t in a hurry. After checking the time, he smiled and said, “Since it’s you all, it’ll be easier to talk. I see everyone has some free time. My friend’s restaurant is nearby—why don’t we go eat together? That’ll make things easier too.”
Yu Zhenghao hadn’t expected it to be someone they knew. Since he happened to have other matters, he simply exchanged a few words and left early. He trusted Ji Qiu and knew he would handle things well.
The place Jiang Xinglan chose really wasn’t far— a Western restaurant tucked among tall buildings, quiet amid the bustle, with few people inside.
Xu Yishu still felt a bit awkward, but since they were already there, he went along.
Jiang Xinglan was indeed smooth with words. Perhaps because he was only an intern lawyer, he didn’t come across as stiff or cold like KB’s official representatives.
After the waiter came to take their orders, the atmosphere gradually eased from its initial awkwardness into something more comfortable.
Because they knew each other, the topic didn’t dive straight into business. Yin Tongguang cracked jokes, Ji Qiu lightened the mood, Lai Qiutong delivered her sharp remarks, while the two Omegas played their parts—Xu Yishu kept laughing at their banter, while Liang Yan just stared blankly at the freshly served food.
Ji Qiu tilted his head to look at him. “Yan Yan? What’s wrong?”
Liang Yan shook his head and said it was nothing.
He wasn’t picky about food. He’d been to this restaurant before, the one Jiang Xinglan mentioned, and it was quite good.
In front of him, the steak was cooked perfectly, with beautiful crisscross grill marks, sizzling softly. Every detail showed the chef’s pride.
It was clearly the chef’s signature dish.
Liang Yan sliced it open with a small knife, and the tightly locked juices and aroma escaped together, along with faint red blood.
Blood.
He felt a little dazed.
For some reason, a sudden wave of nausea rose up in Liang Yan. Startled, he instinctively turned away, one hand covering his mouth, the other clutching Ji Qiu for support, burying himself in his arms and dry-heaving twice.
The movement was so abrupt that even he hadn’t expected it. He coughed twice along with it before finally managing to catch his breath.
“Yan Yan? Yan Yan?”
Ji Qiu was startled. He quickly grabbed some tissues for him, worried he might still feel sick, and even poured a glass of lemon water from the table. He carefully patted his back, holding and coaxing him until he was sure Liang Yan was fine, only then did he relax.
Jiang Xinglan, however, didn’t feel like he was being force-fed dog food, nor did he mind this display of affection in front of him.
It was just that…
This restaurant was one of his little hidden gems. He knew the owner, and whether it was the ambience, service, or food, there was never anything to complain about. Before coming, he had even called ahead to make sure they’d be well taken care of.
Now he started to wonder—at which point had something gone wrong?
For the first time, Jiang Xinglan, usually the picture of refinement, showed a trace of awkwardness on his face. Hesitating, he glanced at the delicate dish on the plate across from him and carefully asked:
“…Was it really that bad?”
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