Husband, Pay Attention to Me
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When Chen Cebai received Qiu Yu’s message, he had just taken off his vinyl gloves and walked out of the laboratory.
If someone saw this scene, they would realize that this was a biochemical laboratory that did not exist on any satellite maps. Even if one used GPS to navigate here, judging from the exterior alone, they would only assume that it was an abandoned, unfinished building.
Buildings like this were everywhere in Yucheng—no one would pay special attention to such a place. Even if someone had a sudden whim to explore, all they would find were concrete walls and rust-covered scaffolding.
Biotech laboratories had too many restrictions and were filled with surveillance—every move a researcher made was under the watchful eyes of those in power.
Thus, Chen Cebai spent three years personally building this private laboratory.
It was currently the most well-shielded laboratory—ensuring that while the equipment inside operated normally, it was completely isolated from external electromagnetic interference, while also preventing the electromagnetic radiation inside from leaking out.
The company was not unaware of the existence of this laboratory.
They had attempted to dismantle it through both technical and legal means, even going so far as to prohibit Chen Cebai from purchasing certain experimental materials under his personal name.
But no matter how the company tried to restrict him, the laboratory was still successfully built.
It belonged solely to Chen Cebai and was free from any external forces or control.
Chen Cebai gazed coldly at the image projected onto his retina.
It was the genetic sequence he had just tested in the laboratory, undergoing a targeted transformation in a way that was incomprehensible to human understanding.
If this scene were taken as a clip from a sci-fi movie, it would be an incredibly convincing shot—his genes seemed to have developed a consciousness of their own, precisely eliminating highly repetitive DNA sequences and inactive genes.
Moreover, even in science fiction, two completely different DNA sequences could never be recombined.
Yet, in the process of integration and transformation, his DNA sequence had produced specific site integrations, undergoing a recombination that was biologically impossible.
It was as if a human had suddenly grown the rough, hardened scales of a crocodile—something that should never happen.
Chen Cebai closed his eyes briefly.
All the experimental results indicated that he was transforming into an unknown, diseased, unnatural monster.
At that moment, he received a message from Qiu Yu.
[Are you there?]
Chen Cebai looked at the message without moving.
His expression was cold and solemn, his face showing no ripples of emotion. When his gaze filtered through the lenses and fell onto the tablet, it almost carried a hint of cold mockery.
With such a demeanor, it seemed impossible to associate him with the term “wolf-like.”
Yet, when he saw Qiu Yu’s message, there was indeed something wolf-like about him.
Like a long time ago, when he stood in the corner of the school, watching her.
No one knew that, in the quiet depths of the night, he would calmly calculate the probability of them falling in love.
He remembered once, when Qiu Yu hosted the school’s music festival, she had deliberately changed into a deep green long dress, wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a black mesh veil covering the lower half of her face.
The mesh veil was adorned with tea-green gemstones, which draped over half of her face, casting a faint, eerie glow at dusk.
Her attire was so elaborate, yet her eyes were exceptionally lively. The corners of her eyes lifted as if at any moment, they might overflow with brilliant laughter.
The dance floor for the music festival had already been set up—humid and oppressive like a tropical rainforest, with occasional flashes of dazzling light.
From all directions came the intense rhythms of electronic music. The attendees wore various outfits—some dressed as gentlemen and ladies of the nineteenth century, others in jingling dark punk attire. Some wore oversized, heavy mascot costumes, while others even dressed as Native Americans, donning feathered headdresses and dancing wildly in the center of the dance floor.
Because there were too many people, the air became murky and stale.
Yet, around Qiu Yu, it remained as fresh and clean as fruit.
She hosted on stage with poise and confidence, while two boys discussed her in private.
Thanks to those two talkative boys, Chen Cebai learned that Qiu Yu was the most popular girl of their year, and also that her parents were executives at a Nordic monopoly company.
If nothing unexpected happened, she would marry Pei Xi—the so-called “Pei Xi,” who was also the son of an executive at a monopoly company and had grown up with her.
Chen Cebai withdrew his gaze, no longer looking at her, yet he did not leave the dance floor.
He stood there, wearing rimless glasses, his figure tall and upright, dressed in a pristine white shirt and black trousers. His presence was starkly out of place with the surrounding crowd, quickly drawing many eyes to him.
Someone walked over, half out of curiosity and half to stir up trouble, urging him to pick a cocktail from the tray.
Chen Cebai’s sense of smell was naturally more sensitive than that of ordinary people. In an instant, he could tell that all the cocktails on the tray had a high alcohol content.
He picked one up and, amidst the sudden uproar around him, drank more than half the glass in silence.
The alcohol rushed to his head almost instantly, and his vision blurred for a brief moment.
But because he had exceptional control over his facial expressions, not a single trace of intoxication was revealed—when intelligence reaches a certain level, it enters a state of absolute rationality.
He could calmly and precisely calculate the probability of every event.
For example, the drink he had just consumed carried a 29% risk of intoxication and a 2% risk of causing cancer.
If he refused the drink, there was a 49% probability of conflict and a 51% probability of being ridiculed. The entire situation was highly likely to escalate into physical confrontation.
Thus, he chose to drink it.
Perhaps due to the alcohol surging through his system, at that same moment, his mind also constructed an algorithmic model—factoring in genes, sexual orientation, personality, family background, hobbies, and values—to calculate the probability of falling in love with Qiu Yu: 2%.
Roughly the same probability as developing cancer from drinking that cocktail.
Chen Cebai’s lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.
At that time, he was still a normal human being, and even then, Qiu Yu was almost certainly never going to love him.
Now that he had turned into a monster, it was even more impossible for her to look at him differently.
And so, for once, he found himself behaving a little wolf-like, unsure of how to respond to her message.
For the past week, he had been restraining his thoughts of her, avoiding watching her every move with the greedy obsession of a deranged stalker. But at this moment, all that restraint suddenly collapsed.
Just then, Qiu Yu sent another message:
[Husband, pay attention to me.]
An illusion rose before his eyes.
Bloodshot veins spread across his gaze as he once again cast his eyes upon her, filled with an abnormal fervor.
Bit by bit, he outlined her silhouette in his mind—like he was about to use his calm, detached stare to silently lock onto her throat.
More than ten minutes passed, yet the prying gaze not only did not disappear but became even bolder.
Qiu Yu broke out in goosebumps.
She stood up, pretending to pour herself a cup of coffee.
However, no matter how she moved around, the prying gaze followed her like a shadow, clinging to her like adhesive, as if peering at her from another dimension.
Qiu Yu couldn’t help but feel her scalp go numb—With such advanced technology, couldn’t it be used for something better? Why waste it on spying on her?
Then, something even more unnerving happened.
As she drank her coffee, her throat bobbed slightly.
The gaze seemed to glide along with the movement of her throat, as though two overlapping, converging, and merging shadows were forming another kind of silent kiss.
Qiu Yu abruptly set down her coffee cup.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing, and quickly walked back to her desk—but a hint of panic still slipped through.
She had no idea how to handle the situation before her.
Call the police?
—The city government’s police force was not even one-tenth as effective as the company’s security personnel.
Tell her parents?
—She would be sent back to Northern Europe in no time, where she would spend the long daylight season under the watchful eyes of hundreds of security personnel, bored out of her mind.
Tell Pei Xi?
—It would be no different from telling her parents.
Her only option was to seek help from Chen Cebai.
He was the only person she could truly rely on at the moment.
Qiu Yu picked up her tablet, unlocked it, and deliberately typed slowly:
Chen Cebai…
Just as she finished typing his name, she hesitated, then deleted it.
After pondering for a moment, she swallowed her shame and forced herself to type:
[Husband, pay attention to me.]
The moment she sent the message, she couldn’t care less whether the prying gaze had seen it—she herself couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.
She tossed the tablet aside, covered her cheeks with both hands, and felt her ears burn so hot that they nearly stung.
Thus, she did not notice that the moment she sent that message, the prying gaze instantly turned incomparably deep and obscure, almost carrying a hint of hunger so intense it made one’s hair stand on end.
Like a predator that had been starving for too long, finally waiting for the moment to feast, desperate to swallow her whole.
The gaze was both cold and burning hot, carrying a terrifying intensity, as if it could drill two holes into her back.
Qiu Yu felt “his” gaze but no longer had the energy to discern “his” emotions.
The shameful heat burning at her ears was nearly enough to pierce two holes through them.
At that moment, the video call notification sound rang.
Chen Cebai did not reply to her message—he called her directly.
Qiu Yu was startled, her face heating up to the point of spontaneous combustion. She really wanted to hang up, but thinking of the prying gaze lurking in the dark, she could only grit her teeth, cover one cheek with her hand, and use the other to accept the call.
Chen Cebai’s deep, cold voice came through:
“Qiu Yu?”
Qiu Yu’s face was flushed red—she didn’t even dare to face the camera.
Chen Cebai paused for two seconds. “Did someone else touch your tablet?”
Well, it made sense.
She had never called him that before, so it was only natural for him to think that.
Qiu Yu took a deep breath, trying to recall the disturbing gaze of the prying watcher, attempting to suppress the burning shame at her ears and speak to Chen Cebai in a normal tone.
But she simply couldn’t stop feeling embarrassed. The shame was so overwhelming that chills ran through her body in waves, as if her body was instinctively trying to counteract the burning heat.
She had never encountered such a situation before and was momentarily distracted.
Only when Chen Cebai called her name again did she snap out of it, resolutely picking up the tablet and facing the camera.
Chen Cebai was also using a tablet.
He seemed to have just come out of the laboratory and was in the middle of changing clothes, casually placing the tablet on the nearest table.
The camera, angled from below, captured him in an unflattering “death perspective.”
Yet, from this angle, his jawline appeared even sharper and more defined. The fingers adjusting his sleeve cuffs looked especially long and slender.
After fastening his cuffs, he picked up a mechanical watch and buckled it onto his wrist. The combination of his slightly protruding wrist bone, the faint veins on the back of his hand, and the subtle stretch of tendons exuded a kind of sharp, untouchable beauty—one that could only be admired from a distance, never defiled.
Chen Cebai turned slightly to the side, not looking at her, and calmly, patiently asked:
“Qiu Yu, do you need something from me?”
His voice—calm and steady as always—stood in stark contrast to the prying gaze, which was growing increasingly dangerous and oppressive.
“He” seemed to perceive her accepting Chen Cebai’s video call as a provocation. The gaze directed at her became even more intense and frenzied, pinning her down with unwavering fixation.
Afraid that Chen Cebai might hang up, Qiu Yu dared not hesitate any longer.
Steeling herself, she clenched her teeth and asked:
“…Husband, can you come pick me up from work?”