99% Match, But He Smells Like My Ex-Boss - Chapter 8
Chapter 8
The information the Matching Center provided was thorough.
Two years ago, Qingyao applied for a batch of pheromone predictions under the guise of a workplace safety assessment for executives.
My name and Lu Zhiheng’s name were highlighted in red.
Predicted matching rate: 98.97%.
Three days after the application, I was transferred into the Yunqi classified project team.
On the fifth day, my heat came abnormally early.
On the sixth day, Lu Zhiheng’s rut also came abnormally early.
On the seventh day, the project accident erupted.
The timeline, like a rope, strung all the coincidences together into an attempted murder.
The Matching Center staff member said quietly, “Ms. Song, we will also share this file with the regulatory authorities.”
I asked, “Can the inducer’s source be traced?”
“If the sample from back then is still preserved, yes.”
I thought of the Qingyao infirmary.
The temporary suppressant I used that night should have a batch number record there.
When I left the Matching Center, sure enough, Lu Zhiheng was waiting downstairs.
The rain had stopped.
He didn’t approach.
Just looked at me.
I said, “To the Qingyao infirmary.”
He nodded.
“The car is over there.”
This time, I got in.
On the way, we didn’t speak.
Until the car stopped in the Qingyao underground garage.
Lu Zhiheng suddenly spoke.
“Song Zhi.”
“Hm?”
“If we investigate and it turns out I was plotted against back then too, will you hate me a little less?”
I looked ahead.
“No.”
He fell silent.
I said, “You being plotted against and you hurting me are two separate things.”
Lu Zhiheng said quietly, “I understand.”
“But I’ll believe you a little more.”
He turned to look at me.
I didn’t look at him.
“A little.”
He laughed very softly.
The old doctor at the Qingyao infirmary was still there.
When he saw me and Lu Zhiheng, his expression changed.
“President Lu, Ms. Song.”
Lu Zhiheng placed the file in front of him.
“The retained sample records from the abnormal heats in the Yunqi Project team two years ago.”
The old doctor’s hand trembled.
“It’s been so long, they might be impossible to find.”
I said, “Then we’ll report it and have them search.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Finally, he took an old box from the bottom of the filing cabinet.
Inside were two empty syringes.
One labeled with my name.
One labeled with Lu Zhiheng’s.
The old doctor said in a low voice, “Back then, CEO Han said these were ordinary suppressants and told me to use them according to emergency procedures.”
Lu Zhiheng asked, “Why didn’t you report it?”
The old doctor’s lips trembled.
“He said it was your intention.”
Lu Zhiheng closed his eyes briefly.
I looked at the two syringes.
A belated nausea rose in my chest.
My heat, my mistake, my resignation.
Every step had been pushed by someone else.
Footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.
Han Che stood at the end of the corridor.
As he saw the box, his expression darkened.
“Song Zhi.”
“You really are a persistent ghost.”
