The funeral concluded on a solemn note, and Yen embarked on his journey homeward, the remnants of his earlier frustration lingering despite the events of the day.Upon reaching his apartment, he effortlessly accessed the gated entrance using the remote control ever-present in his possession."A convenient feature," he mused, a fractional easing of his vexation.Navigating the car within the compound, he watched the gate seal behind him, his vehicle now occupying the spot designated for his previous one.Gazing at the sleek contours of his new car, a burgeoning sense of elation pervaded him, steadily washing away his lingering annoyance.Then, Stem's voice interjected. {Don't forget about the requisite car documentation. Dodging today's situation might have worked, but unless you act now, you'll perpetually procrastinate.}"I'll tackle that later. I'm too drained to head out again."Ding!The sound, once heard a few days prior, resounded anew.[A New Mission has materialized.Mission:
The pill production area buzzed with controlled chaos, illuminated by the dim glow of overhead lights. Rows of cauldrons lined the room, each one poised to orchestrate a symphony of chemical transformations. The rhythmic hum of machinery and the scent of potent ingredients intermingled in the air.Yen's fingers deftly navigated the control panel, his motions precise and efficient. A flick of the switch initiated a surge of electricity that coursed through the veins of the cauldrons, rousing them to life.With the power activated, Yen's synchronization with Stem commenced. Their mental harmony facilitated the seamless progression of tasks. Equipped with a meticulously prepared concoction, Yen's swift movements resonated with purpose.Fluidly, he poured the amalgamated mixture into the diminutive cauldrons, resembling kettle-like vessels. Despite their narrow openings, these cauldrons blossomed wider at the base, their stout stature accentuated by vertical handles that flanked opposing
The thirteenth day of the pill production mission finally dawned, a culmination of days filled with focused dedication and relentless effort.Five days had elapsed since production resumed, and the team had been quick to embrace the methodology Stem had recently devised. This innovative approach not only expedited the process of pill creation but also significantly truncated the time required for this endeavor. The effect was remarkable—an exponential surge in the daily pill production count.In the not-so-distant past, their daily output averaged around two thousand pills. However, under the influence of the new technique, their daily tally now reached almost four thousand pills, a feat that underscored the newfound efficiency in their operations. This surge had propelled their cumulative pill production to an impressive 29,600, a number that was still on the rise within the confines of the bustling production unit.Within the office space allocated to Yen, Rotlitch ventured in, his
The meeting room was saturated with tension, an atmosphere thickened by the gravity of the ongoing negotiations. As the discussions progressed, all four participants found themselves embroiled in a silent battle of intellect and strategy, the ebb and flow of their words mirroring the ebb and flow of a high-stakes chess match.Yen, having deftly navigated through the complex terrain of explanations and value propositions, had meticulously unveiled the facets and significance of every available pill. He went above and beyond, providing each attendee with a compact booklet, a trove of information encapsulated within its pages.The booklet contained a precise breakdown of the pills' uses, quantities, pricing, and instructions for consumption, all neatly summarized for their convenience. This unspoken gesture spoke volumes of Yen's dedication to transparency and professionalism.The issue at hand had its roots in the innocuous-looking booklet Yen had handed out. Within its pages lay the se
Inside the grand edifice that was the Wuhan family residence, chaos reigned supreme. The air buzzed with tension and panic as if the very walls were trembling with distress.The family matriarch, Grandma Mingxuan, lay in a dire state—her frail form confined to the bed, eyes closed, and life hanging on by a thread. The room was awash with an air of despair, the once serene space now charged with a palpable sense of urgency.Wingyu, the family's head, was a whirlwind of emotions. His face displayed a storm of fear, anger, and helplessness as he paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors. He had arrived too late to prevent the tragic event, and his eyes brimmed with tears that he refused to shed.Somewhere in the estate, the perpetrator of this heinous act was locked away. However, Wingyu's mind barely registered his presence, consumed instead by his mother's worsening condition. Desperation etched lines on his face as he clutched his phone, repeatedly dia
"Hell no!" Yen's exclamation reverberated in the room, his immediate response fueled by a mixture of shock and resistance at Rotlitch's words. The implication of what was being asked hung heavily in the air, challenging Yen's convictions."Come on. His mother is dying from poisoning as we speak," Rotlitch's voice held a note of urgency, an attempt to sway Yen's resolve in the face of Wingyu's desperate plea.Yen's mind raced, the internal struggle evident in the creases that furrowed his brow. He closed his eyes for a moment, searching through the corridors of memories belonging to the old Yen. His consciousness delved into the past, seeking a particular memory that would illuminate the connection between him and Wingyu's mother. It didn't take long for him to unearth the moment—a recollection of himself, Ming, and Wingyu's mother sitting together, a shared moment of storytelling that wove threads of companionship between them.The weight of the memories crashed over Yen like waves ag
Yen entered the room, emitting a sigh that carried the weight of his emotions. His footsteps echoed softly on the polished floor, drawing him closer to the center of the space. His eyes met Wingyu's gaze across the expanse, a gaze filled not with unwavering determination but with a mixture of reverence and something else—something unspoken yet palpable. Wingyu, a figure who often embodied authority, appeared surprisingly different now, almost unrecognizable, resembling an ordinary man caught in the tension of the moment."Dr. Yen, nice to meet you," Wingyu's words tumbled out in a rush, his urgency evident in his hasty stride toward Yen, bridging the distance even before Yen had fully crossed into the room."Yeah, nice to meet you too," Yen replied with a forced smile, his arm extending reluctantly to initiate a handshake with one of the individuals he held a deep aversion for.The room seemed to shrink around them, shadows dancing nervously along the edges as if mirroring the underly
Yen, flanked by the others, positioned themselves just beyond the threshold of the room. Their collective presence formed a silent tableau of anticipation as they awaited the conclusion of the maids' task.Yen had meticulously orchestrated this next step. Ensuring that the ladies were equipped with the appropriate materials to shield themselves from the impending olfactory assault, he had made certain that they were armed with nothing more than a pair of pills.These pills, like tiny sentinels of defense, were consumed before entry, a barrier against the impending discomfort that would accompany the cleansing process. And so, as the maids worked diligently within, the small group outside held an unspoken vigil, the corridor a canvas upon which their patience and cooperation painted a picture of unity in the face of adversity.While the maids worked their magic inside the room, their presence a flurry of purposeful activity, the doctors gathered in a huddle, their interactions a blend