Velin looked at the wine glass offered to his lips.
The scarlet liquid in the glass swirled under the moonlight, casting an ambiguous halo.
A blush graced Caroline's cheeks—whether from the wine or something else, it was hard to say. Her emerald eyes, usually sharp as blades, now glistened with moisture, clearly reflecting his image.
Memories from his past life surfaced in his mind.
'Ever since my first year of grad school, the senior and junior female students who wanted to get their names listed as the fourth or fifth author on my SCI papers always used similar tactics.'
'They'd treat me to meals, buy me bubble tea, and look at me with adoring eyes, saying, "You're so amazing, senior!" All that buildup would inevitably lead to the request, "Can you include me in this project?"'
'You couldn't say it was identical—you could only say there was absolutely no difference.'
