He arrived once again at the villa where he had stayed with Zhi Ran for a while.
Li Dong's feelings were a mixture of longing, melancholy, and complexity. Scenes of his time with Zhi Ran flashed before his eyes.
Her unguarded body, wrapped only in a thin bath towel, appeared before him.
Two slender, shapely legs, dazzlingly white, were exposed. She held her half-damp, jet-black hair in her hand, letting him dry it as she sat on the sofa.
Warm yang energy emanated from his palm as he combed through her silky, even black hair with his fingers, feeling it become incredibly smooth and supple, like a young girl's skin.
His eyes didn't know where to look. Her well-proportioned, fair back, her slender, snow-white shoulders, the deep cleavage beneath her breasts—a perfectly sculpted figure, neither more nor less than perfect.
The bath towel hung low, revealing most of her snow-white breasts. The tips of her nipples, a delicate, rounded pink, were partially visible. Although the full view was obscured, the exposed areolas were as tender as silkworm membranes.
He tried his best not to look, but the vast expanse of white skin, the deep cleavage, and the silkworm-like pinkness seemed to possess an uncanny allure, making it impossible for him to look away.
Zhi Ran seemed to pretend not to notice where his gaze was fixed, but as China's most talented woman, her icy clarity, unwavering composure, and subtle languor seemed unable to maintain.
Her breath seemed to carry a faint warmth, a delicate blush rising from her earlobes, tinging her snow-white collarbone and breasts.
This added an unparalleled beauty to the jade-like woman…
In the days that followed, he would sometimes find a pair of discarded underwear in a conspicuous place in the living room. Thin lace, semi-transparent, adorned with exquisite floral and butterfly patterns.
A faint dampness emanated from the crotch, revealing elongated oval-shaped welts with delicate folds.
And then, Zhi Ran, who was taking a bath, emerged as he was bewildered, her freshly bathed, radiant white body, her full, rounded buttocks seated beside him.
She picked up a nearly empty glass of red wine from the coffee table, her slightly flushed face gazing at him with a slightly dreamy expression.
Her underwear, spread open on the armrest without any attempt at modesty, combined with the warm, lingering scent of her pinkish body after her bath, filled the air.
The entire atmosphere seemed to be infused with a warm, fragrant, orchid-like aroma…
That was the most alluring Zhi Ran he had ever seen.
Such scenes occurred frequently, and the underwear left behind grew smaller each day, from normal lace to palm-sized triangles, with two blush-inducing thin strings…
He wasn't a dullard; how could he not understand Zhi Ran's feelings for him?
But at that time, he couldn't reciprocate Zhi Ran's feelings.
In the moment of Zhao Zhi Ran's disappearance, longing and a faint regret gnawed at his heart like venomous snakes.
Entering Zhao Zhi Ran's room, it seemed somewhat different from what he remembered.
It seemed a little messier, especially the drawer under the wardrobe, which was open, with various underwear scattered about.
His breathing quickened. Had Zhi Ran returned?
He hurried to the drawer, where the underwear that had stirred his heart was right before him, one pair hanging halfway on the edge.
It was a very thin fabric, the front and back panels barely larger than a palm, a pale purple lace panty with rose patterns, transparent and sheer.
He couldn't resist holding the underwear in his hand. It was so light and soft; these were the underwear Zhi Ran had once worn… deliberately placed where he could easily reach them.
Back then, he hadn't touched them.
But now, he couldn't help but gently stroke the thin, delicate fabric with his fingertips, the fabric that had once covered Zhi Ran's fuller, softer areas.
He couldn't resist gently bringing it to his nose and inhaling its fragrance, as if it still carried Zhi Ran's delicate, orchid-like scent.
For some reason, he didn't put it back in the drawer.
Instead, he carefully placed it in his pocket.
He got up and looked around, trying to find more traces of Zhao Zhi Ran. His eyes quickly caught sight of the drawer being opened and the bed being somewhat messy.
The sheets had large wrinkles… but that wasn't the main point.
What truly caught his eye was a patch of dried liquid stains on the bed.
The crumpled marks on the light, silky fabric were clearly visible. Patches of dried water stretched from the foot of the bed to the lower middle, covering an area roughly the size of a human head, surrounded by splattered dots.
Because high-quality sheets shrink slightly after liquid dries, leaving small dents, these marks were particularly noticeable.
"These…what…"
Li Dong touched it. It wasn't "water"; it felt more like dried mucus, with a slightly hardened texture, similar to the white stains Zhi Ran occasionally left on her underwear.
He had a vague idea of what it was.
But the sheer size of the stain was too shocking, making him feel a sense of disbelief.
Forcibly suppressing his inexplicable emotions, he fled Zhao Zhi Ran's room as if escaping.
"Right, look for the tools Zhi Ran left behind," he muttered to himself, as if reminding himself or trying to reassure himself.
He hadn't come here by chance; he was here to analyze the "evidence" he'd obtained from Luo Shaoheng.
He'd lived here for a while; Sister Zhiran had a simple workshop in the basement.
He went there and unlocked it with a password known only to him and Zhao Zhiran. A faint, dusty smell wafted out, proving no one had been here in recent years.
After a quick setup, he turned on the device. Even after several years, it was still functioning perfectly.
Next, it was time to decipher the evidence.
He found two storage chips in the small bag—the latest neural network storage chips, their encryption program extremely complex.
Ordinary people couldn't access them without the key, but with the device Sister Zhiran had personally modulated, almost nothing was unbreakable.
He inserted one of the chips into the device, and as the progress bar slowly ticked by—
Some data appeared, but it wasn't the clue he expected; instead, it was the design data for a chip.
A brain-computer interface chip?
Although he didn't understand these things perfectly, he had been exposed to them by Zhao Ziran's side and naturally knew more than the average person.
A neural operating system?
He frowned slightly. He had heard before that prosthetics would be the mainstream of future development.