TYMIMA Chapter 45

The intern dorms assigned by Blue Pivot weren’t big, but not too small either. A 1.5-meter bed could barely fit two people.

 

But even though the kiss hadn’t been completed and they’d just acted so reluctant to part, neither Lance nor Zhan Pingchuan invited the other to sleep over, since they both needed space to carry out their tasks alone.

 

So, during the time they were apart, Zhan Pingchuan was anxious and Lance was nervous, both afraid the other would bring up the subject.

 

Lance had already thought up an excuse—he’d say his heat was coming soon, afraid things would get out of hand, afraid he couldn’t control his feelings. That way, he wouldn’t hurt the little idiot’s heart and it would sound reasonable.

 

Zhan Pingchuan had also prepared an excuse—he’d say he was entering a susceptible period, like a wild beast losing control, and to protect Lance, he had to self-isolate. That way, the little fox would be touched, and he wouldn’t seem physically weak.

 

Luckily, neither of them had to use their excuse before they split up.

 

The first day had no specific tasks, mainly to familiarize themselves with the environment—but only the areas they could access, like the crowded open offices.

 

District One happened to be on the first and second floors, with just a floor separating it from the basement.

 

Zhan Pingchuan memorized the possible routes to the third basement level, the elevators, and the ventilation system, while chatting non-stop with Robert.

 

“Teacher Luo, is the basement a parking lot? I saw the inspection team all drive black Alfas. Does Blue Pivot provide cars? If I work here in the future, can I park my car downstairs?”

 

Robert turned back, fixing his blue eyes on him as if looking at a country bumpkin.

 

“First, my surname is White, not Luo. Second, do you think this is a mall, parking underground? Third, only official business gets a car—if you want one, buy it yourself!”

 

Robert’s tone was full of disdain, but Zhan Pingchuan wasn’t bothered. He cheerfully continued: “So if there’s no parking underground, that means District One owns the basement? District One really is the most promising.”

 

Robert snorted: “District One is naturally the best department, but the basement isn’t ours. The first basement is a lab, mainly used by Districts Four and Six. The second basement is a storage room, where the Federation’s most advanced weapons are kept—each district has to apply in advance for mission use. As for the third basement…”

 

Robert paused, as if debating whether to tell a newcomer more.

 

Zhan Pingchuan casually added: “Oh, the third level is the secret archive only Blue Pivot higher-ups know about, just like in the movies.”

 

“Tch, what secret.” Robert, provoked by Zhan Pingchuan, forgot his reservations. “The third level is just a bunch of useless historical records, gathering dust.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan was surprised: “I thought there weren’t any historical records left?”

 

Robert’s rough voice carried a hint of Blue Pivot pride: “Of course there aren’t any outside, but Blue Pivot has backups. It’s all useless stuff, though—meaningless, and nobody looks at it.”

 

Robert was bulky and slow, giving Zhan Pingchuan plenty of time to observe.

 

Zhan Pingchuan glanced out the window, then seemed to remember something and asked on a whim: “Mr. White, I know a cute, well-behaved, top-student red-haired Omega who’s really into history. Could I get some materials as a Dawn Day gift for him?”

 

Tang Li: “……” Could you be any more obvious?

 

“Heh—” Robert seemed to see right through Zhan Pingchuan’s intentions. Nowadays, some Alphas, especially high-level ones, didn’t want to use suppressants during susceptible periods and would do anything to trick pretty little Os into bed.

 

Those naive little Os just idolized high-level Alphas, getting all starry-eyed and shamelessly tangled up together for days. Once the susceptible period ended, the Alpha would pull up his pants and leave.

 

Robert didn’t even need to think: that redhead was probably in his first relationship, pure and reserved, while the black-haired one was probably dying to get in bed already.

 

“My surname is White, not Luo, and stop with your restless thoughts. Only district chiefs and Federation councilors have access to the third basement. Don’t lose your head over your lower half!”

 

Tang Li hadn’t thought of this, but with Robert’s crude warning, his face flushed red.

 

Because it’s not just Alphas who have susceptible periods—Omegas have heats too. When that time comes, without suppressants, nobody can control themselves.

 

Zhan Pingchuan just smiled indifferently, as if he didn’t care that Robert thought he was a scoundrel. He even teased, “Maybe I’d be willing to die under a magnolia. Any chance our district chief could make an exception?”

 

Robert, both annoyed and secretly titillated by the idea, imagined a naive little O being coaxed into bed with a few small favors, getting marked, then being forcefully opened up—exactly the kind of plot he liked best.

 

“Sure, go tell your thoughts to the district chief. See if he’ll personally help you with iris unlocking, and apply to the Seventh District to turn off the infrared sensors—all for your one-night stand,” Robert mocked.

 

“If it’s that troublesome, I think the chances are slim, don’t you, Teacher White?” Zhan Pingchuan raised an eyebrow, looking at Robert with hopeful eyes, as if waiting for Robert to enthusiastically deny his pessimistic viewpoint.

 

Liu Bo thought to himself, that’s too subtle, bro. This isn’t just “slim chances”—this would only happen if the District One chief’s brain was filled with shit!

 

Tang Li silently reflected, it’s hard to imagine this is the same man who was colder than Mount Everest and Kilimanjaro.

 

Robert’s belly heaved with anger: “I think your chances of dying are much higher!”

 

Zhan Pingchuan sighed deeply, clearly disappointed.

 

If Lance were here, he certainly wouldn’t think Zhan Pingchuan had impure intentions, because Zhan Pingchuan respected him, and he wasn’t so pure and reserved.

 

He would keenly detect the leading nature of Zhan Pingchuan’s questions, notice the key information about the third basement level.

 

Then, connecting with He Jing’en’s specific mention of interrogation materials and autopsy reports, he would understand that Zhan Pingchuan’s identity was definitely not simple, and that Zhan Pingchuan’s presence at Blue Pivot and even at Star University had ulterior motives.

 

Unfortunately, Lance wasn’t there.

 

Having been assigned to District Two separately, he was now being shown around by a District Two inspection team member.

 

The one introducing him was the most easily bullied unfortunate soul in District Two.

 

When a person is at the bottom of their environment, suffering many unfair treatments, they might develop in two ways.

 

First, they might empathize with those in similar situations and extend a helping hand when others are in trouble.

 

Second, they might be assimilated, contaminated, transferring their suffering to weaker targets, and believing this is all justified.

 

Fortunately, Lance met the first type of person.

 

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll be responsible for delivering meals. I don’t know why they assigned you to do this.”

 

Lance looked up, asking curiously: “Sir, isn’t this job good?”

 

“Don’t call me sir, I’m Lauen.” Lauen waved his hand, shyly declining Lance’s politeness, and explained, “It’s not very good for interns, because delivering meals every day is tiring and busy. You basically won’t have time to do anything else.”

 

Lance pondered thoughtfully: “How many boxed meals need to be delivered? I’m very capable.”

 

Lauen smiled bitterly: “There are many people in Blue Pivot’s Second District. About two hundred people work at headquarters. Some have special requests, like allergies or religious beliefs, so you have to record them in advance the night before. If you deliver the wrong one, it’s okay for me as their colleague, but you might get scolded.”

 

Lance smiled: “It’s alright, I’m not afraid of being scolded. Two hundred people sounds like a lot, but it’s just two floors.”

 

Seeing his optimism, Lauen knew this was a student from a well-protected family with a pure living environment, exactly like himself when he first graduated from university.

 

Lauen saw his younger self through Lance and couldn’t help but tell him more, hoping he could avoid some detours.

 

“Remember, you don’t need to deliver meals to the district chief and his aide. Their work is more mobile, and they may not always be in the office. Also, on the seventh floor, there’s a special…”

 

Lauen pondered his words, choosing a very tactful way to explain: “On the seventh floor, there’s a special colleague, in a room surrounded by a barrier. Don’t talk to him too much. Just push the boxed meal through the flat, elongated slot at the bottom. He may not eat it. If he doesn’t eat, you… you should just encourage him to eat a little. Don’t concern yourself with anything else.”

 

Lance sensitively narrowed his eyes, murmuring: “A special colleague? Aren’t barriers used in prisons? Why does Blue Pivot have them too?”

 

Lauen’s own life wasn’t happy, so he could empathize with those struggling in misery.

 

The sufferings in this world, though different, mostly end similarly—suffering until death.

 

No comeback, no resurgence, no phoenix rebirth. The satisfying plots in movies and TV shows rarely happen in reality.

 

Lauen hoped that person could live slightly better before dying, so he involuntarily began talking at length.

 

“Actually, it’s a solitary confinement room. Several districts in Blue Pivot have them, used to discipline inspection team members who make mistakes at work. But normally, people just reflect there for a couple of hours. That person is different. He’s S-level. Before I came to Blue Pivot, he had already been confined there for many years. They say he committed a major offense and was protected by Director Si, so he must be strictly supervised.”

 

“So he’s a criminal.” Lance casually glanced around with his peripheral vision, shamelessly exploiting Lauen’s sympathy. “To be honest, I despise criminals the most. All that talk about them changing through rehabilitation is nonsense. If it were that easy to reform them, prisons would be empty by now. Forgive my frankness, but these people are inherently evil.”

 

Lance spoke with increasing righteousness, just like all young people his age—hating evil, idealistic, seeing things as black and white, all talk and no action.

 

Lauen felt compassionate and quickly said: “He’s not the kind of criminal you’re thinking of. He…” Lauen frowned, sighing heavily, “He’s quite pitiful, and he doesn’t look like he’ll live much longer. If you see him, please be respectful to him. Consider it a favor to me.”

 

Lance gave Lauen a deep look.

 

Frankly, Lauen was really not a qualified District Two member. His heart was soft, he empathized too easily, had no guard against strangers, and no sense of risk.

 

Oliver was an extremely sensitive subject, yet Lauen asked an intern he didn’t really know to respect him. Under the mercurial Si Hongche, showing open kindness to Oliver could potentially bring fatal consequences.

 

Even if Lance did something he shouldn’t, or something that aroused Si Hongche’s suspicion, he could easily shift all blame to Lauen. Their conversation in this corridor would be ironclad evidence to clear Lance and send Lauen to his doom.

 

Such a person full of vulnerabilities was absolutely the best entry point for external forces into Blue Pivot’s District Two, but—

 

Lance thought, if Old Lan were here, he’d probably say Lauen was Blue Pivot inspection team’s last hope.

 

Lance put on a look of disbelief, widening his eyes to ask: “Why do you think he’s pitiful?”

 

Lauen scratched his head, clearly troubled, but to ensure Lance would take better care of Oliver, he had to continue.

 

“Director Si… Director Si has a special habit of humiliating and torturing him. He’s not doing well now, probably has anorexia. But if he doesn’t eat, he’s force-fed liquid food, once every day. You can hear his painful vomiting sounds through the wall. It’s… it’s terrifying.”

 

Cold killing intent flashed through Lance’s eyes for an instant, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly: “Anorexia should be a psychological disorder. Isn’t Blue Pivot allowed to get doctors for prisoners?”

 

Lauen shook his head hurriedly: “It’s not that. Even if they did, it wouldn’t help. Unless Director Si stops… and he also needs willpower and belief, but I think he actually doesn’t want to live anymore.”

 

Lance lowered his eyes, pondering for a long while, before reluctantly conceding: “Alright, I’ll take some care of him, for your sake.”

 

Lauen’s eyes brightened, and he let out a sigh of relief: “Really? Just a little bit is fine. Otherwise, you’ll get in trouble too.”

 

That evening, Lauen made a special trip to the seventh floor.

 

He knew he shouldn’t visit this person outside meal times, and this person probably didn’t remember him much. But thinking that tomorrow a new intern would be delivering meals, and fearing some oversight, he decided to inform Oliver.

 

Lauen rubbed his hands, standing properly at some distance from the main door, not avoiding the surveillance cameras.

 

“Hello, I’m the one who delivers your meals every day, but tomorrow this task will be given to a new intern. I don’t know if I can get it back. You… please try to eat a little in the future.”

 

Through the gaps in the barrier, Lauen saw that Oliver was sitting by the window.

 

It was called a window, but in reality it was just a palm-sized slot for ventilation—after all, this was solitary confinement, and conditions weren’t that good.

 

But at this hour, through that tiny slot, you could actually see the moon in the sky.

 

Oliver tilted his head back, eyes wide open, gazing intently through that window.

 

The moon was silvery white, cool and cold, like a fractured gem draped in a hazy veil on a quiet night.

 

He hadn’t admired such a beautiful moonlight in a long time; it was so bright, as if it had never set.

 

That little golden lion cub must have watched the fireworks blooming over the golden rooftops just like this.

 

Unfortunately, the little lion’s adventure was just beginning, while his was about to end.

 

Dawn Day had come, the interns had arrived, and so had his time to die.

 

It was actually a rather beautiful thing. Before dying, he wanted to remember the few beautiful things in this world—like this lovely moonlight, these dazzling stars.

 

Though his body was trapped in a corner, his heart roamed the world—he was finally, finally about to be free.

 

Lauen waited a long time without hearing a reply, but he’d expected as much. He sighed softly, knowing that person was once again lost in his own world.

 

He was just a fleeting passerby in that person’s world; perhaps that person had never even noticed his existence.

 

But that was okay. He could take it as the moon saying goodbye for him.

 

Lauen turned and walked away with his head down, but after just two steps, he heard a gentle, awkward voice behind him: “Thank you, Mr. Lauen.”

 

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 (advanced chapters available on kofi)