He Could Only See Qiu Yu, and He Was Only Willing to See Qiu Yu
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The drone had crashed, the footage was completely erased, and the interview naturally ended in failure.
Qiu Yu didn’t feel distressed. After all, the recordings were just routine remarks—having them or not made no difference.
Moreover, after the drone crashed, Lu Zehou’s attitude toward them improved significantly. He no longer looked at them with a sideways glance.
Qiu Yu wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she kept feeling that Lu Zehou’s gaze toward Chen Cebai was complicated, filled with speechlessness, shock, disdain, disbelief… and even a hint of indescribable fear.
Qiu Yu looked at Chen Cebai in confusion.
Chen Cebai lowered his head and met her gaze.
Their eyes met for no more than three seconds before he suddenly leaned in and kissed her lips. His cold tongue-tip fiercely swept across her lips, and then, as if nothing had happened, he straightened up and spoke in a calm, breezy tone:
“What’s wrong?”
“……” Qiu Yu thought for a moment and felt that his shameless behavior was indeed rather terrifying.
Since the interview had failed and it was getting late, they could only continue another day.
Before leaving, Qiu Yu asked Lu Zehou if he needed financial support.
Lu Zehou frowned. “What do you mean?”
Qiu Yu blinked. “I just counted the number of bedding sets. You’ve provided shelter for nearly twenty homeless people… Although I’ve never rented a place before, I roughly know that renting a warehouse of over 30 square meters isn’t a small expense. After all, most people live in coffin apartments with a height of only 2.5 meters and a floor area of no more than 5 square meters.”
Her gaze was clear, and her voice was sincere. “If you’re having financial difficulties, please let me know. I’m willing to contribute a little.”
At the beginning of his efforts to help the homeless, Lu Zehou had indeed faced financial difficulties.
At the time, his first thought was to attend charity galas and seek donations from celebrities.
He knew that those celebrities wouldn’t donate without reason, but he believed that as long as his persuasion skills were good enough, they would be willing to give generously.
After all, those celebrities often spent fortunes at charity galas. Compared to the billions raised in some charity events, he only needed a few hundred thousand… Some celebrities wore outfits that cost more than that.
Who would have thought that after hearing his cause, a certain celebrity’s first reaction was:
“Oh? That’s an interesting project. Never heard of it before. So, what’s the return rate on this project? How much profit can I expect?”
Lu Zehou was stunned. “Profit? No, no, sir, this isn’t an investment project. It’s a fundraiser…”
But the other party laughed heartily. “Who says fundraising can’t generate profit? Professor Lu, you don’t really expect me to donate money, do you?”
Smiling, he gave Lu Zehou a once-over. “Professor, if you’re short on cash, just say so. Everyone here has a kind heart and would be more than happy to donate to a struggling professor… But asking us to donate to lazy good-for-nothings? Forget it. I’d rather throw my money into a pond than give it to them.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the celebrity laughed and walked away, treating the matter as a joke to share with his companions.
Lu Zehou stood there, frozen, staring at the celebrity’s departing figure, unable to react for a long time.
A friend who had accompanied him and knew the whole story sighed sympathetically and said, “I told you before, no one comes here to do charity.”
Lu Zehou murmured, “…If not for charity, then why hold a charity gala?”
The friend countered, “Do you know what kind of people they love to donate to the most?”
Lu Zehou shook his head.
“They prefer to donate to disabled individuals,” his friend said calmly. “Because their appearance is the easiest to evoke sympathy. Moreover, as long as they don’t have cognitive impairments, most disabled people can be cured through cybernetic prosthetic surgeries.
“Of course, these surgeries aren’t free. The capitalists claim it’s to protect the dignity of special groups. But the public doesn’t know that all those ‘donated’ disabled individuals have signed high-interest loan agreements. To pay off their debts, they must work for these companies for decades. Meanwhile, the capitalists will shamelessly announce to the world that they are ‘teaching people how to fish rather than simply giving them fish.'”
“Apart from that, they also heavily fund a foundation called ‘Safe Travel.’ On the surface, this foundation exists to help those unable to cope with gun violence by providing them with free firearm training courses and even offering the most basic handguns at no charge.”
“But in reality…” His friend gave Lu Zehou a meaningful look. “You and I both know that the best way to sell firearms is to make sure everyone has a gun.”
Lu Zehou was speechless.
—Indeed, the most basic handgun would never be enough for self-defense.
Imagine if you were confronted by a criminal, trembling as you fumbled out an old-fashioned revolver, your hands shaking as you loaded it—would your attacker just stand by and watch?
No, they would simply use a more advanced firearm to take you down.
Just like how, when air pollution worsens, the sales of filtration masks surge, every time a mass shooting occurs, gun stores experience a buying frenzy.
The existence of the Safe Travel Foundation wasn’t to ensure that unarmed people could travel safely—it was to sell guns.
Only researchers like Lu Zehou, who had spent their lives buried in academic work, could ever believe that charity galas were truly about charity.
From that moment on, Lu Zehou never sought help from anyone again, nor did he believe that anyone would ever “donate” to his public welfare project, which had no financial return.
In the past, Lu Zehou would never have believed that the word “charity” could one day be linked to “profit.”
At this moment, hearing Qiu Yu’s words, he couldn’t help but feel dazed.
How many years had it been… since he last heard such a normal statement?
No wonder Chen Cebai treated her like a treasure.
As long as someone lived in this world, how could they not be drawn to her?
Just like an old-fashioned moth lamp—moths could see the countless corpses piled beneath the glowing light, knew full well that flying toward it meant death, and yet they still couldn’t resist diving toward the burning-hot glass.
Unknowingly, Lu Zehou had been staring at Qiu Yu for a long time.
So long that Chen Cebai’s cold voice finally warned, “Professor Lu.”
Lu Zehou chuckled, finding the dynamic between Chen Cebai and Qiu Yu rather interesting.
Chen Cebai’s intelligence was undoubtedly far beyond the officially reported numbers. It was highly likely that he had already surpassed the limits of human cognitive capabilities.
Given how biotech corporations operated, he had most likely undergone genetic modification.
Yet, instead of dying from complete DNA chain collapse, he had somehow gained the ability to freely control his cellular structures and achieve infinite regeneration.
Most likely, his genetic makeup had already exceeded the upper limit of biotech’s expectations.
In other words, biotech corporations had unwittingly created a being that could annihilate them at any moment.
What an interesting thing.
Even more intriguing—if Chen Cebai’s intelligence had truly surpassed the limits of human cognition, he should have become a being of extreme rationality, no longer susceptible to emotions like an ordinary person.
Yet, the result was the complete opposite.
On the surface, he indeed appeared to be far more composed and rational than an ordinary person, as if he would never be controlled by emotions. But in reality—just now, when Qiu Yu remained silent for merely a few seconds, he had nearly killed everyone here.
—Of course, “everyone” did not include Qiu Yu.
A mad plan began to take shape in Lu Zehou’s mind.
During the development of nanosecond-level chips, he had come across many secrets that ordinary people would never have access to.
Those secrets were like fermenting dough, expanding and spreading within him. If he kept them buried, if he chose silence, he would be complicit—an accomplice to murder.
But he had no way to expose those secrets.
The corporation controlled everything.
They monitored, they eavesdropped, they were omnipresent.
All of Lu Zehou’s social media accounts were under strict surveillance.
The corporation allowed him to post inflammatory rhetoric—after all, the internet was already flooded with sensationalist articles, suggestive implications, and so-called exposés. One more or one less made no difference.
The tide of information was so overwhelming that for an ordinary person trapped in a cocoon woven by big data, distinguishing truth from falsehood was nearly impossible.
As long as there was no concrete evidence, as long as no one took the first step to ignite the flames of revolution, the corporation’s rule would remain unshakable. Yes, they permitted Lu Zehou to spread conspiracy theories online, but they forbade him from releasing real evidence.
That was even crueler than simply silencing him outright.
—At first, netizens believed what he said. But as time passed and he failed to present a single piece of solid proof, he gradually became nothing more than a clown in their eyes, desperate for attention.
At that point, no matter what he said, no one would believe him.
People would only assume he was chasing clout, trying to ride the wave of online trends.
In this world, was Chen Cebai the only one who had lost control?
Lu Zehou felt that he, too, was spiraling out of control.
A wildfire burned within his thoughts—blazing, surging, eager to break free and spread across this land built of silicon, steel, and electric wires.
But he was trapped inside a glass cage by the corporation.
He couldn’t escape. All he could do was writhe inside that glass prison, tormented by the fire in his mind, silently screaming in agony.
The entire world watched him struggle, watched him moan, watched him pound helplessly against the glass.
Yet no one could hear him. No one knew his pain. No one even knew why he had been locked inside the glass prison to begin with.
Lu Zehou was not a madman seeking to destroy the world—he only wanted to find a way for the world to be reborn.
The monopoly corporations were a cancer upon the world. They tore nations apart, turned people against each other, left farmland barren, and reduced countless cities to desolate, lifeless ruins.
Unfortunately, he had neither the power to cure this “cancer” nor the means to expose it.
But now, things were different.
Chen Cebai had the ability to wipe out the monopoly corporations completely.
Lu Zehou had initially wanted to extend an olive branch to him directly, but after half an hour, he realized—Chen Cebai had no interest in any of this at all.
When Lu Zehou introduced the backgrounds of the homeless people, only Qiu Yu was listening attentively.
Chen Cebai didn’t spare him a single glance—his gaze remained fixed on Qiu Yu the entire time.
He could only see Qiu Yu, and he was only willing to see Qiu Yu.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have remained a top researcher for the corporation despite having the ability to resist them.
Lu Zehou was highly perceptive and immediately saw through Chen Cebai’s intentions—he only wanted Qiu Yu.
Anyone who stood in the way of him being with Qiu Yu would be mercilessly eliminated.
Lu Zehou thought, fortunately, Qiu Yu was a kind and innocent girl. Perhaps he could use her as an entry point to persuade Chen Cebai to join his “Newborn Plan.”
With this thought in mind, Lu Zehou asked, “May I have a few words with Miss Qiu Yu alone?”
As soon as he finished speaking, Chen Cebai rejected him outright, leaving no room for negotiation. “No. Say it here.”
As expected, whenever it came to Qiu Yu, Chen Cebai’s terrifyingly high intelligence became completely useless.
He hadn’t even considered the possibility that this might be a trap.
Lu Zehou smiled faintly. “Dr. Chen, aren’t you being a little overcontrolling? I know you and Miss Qiu are very close, but she is an independent person. She has the right to decide whether or not she wants to speak with me alone.”
“Or… do you, deep down, believe that Miss Qiu is not an independent person, but merely your possession? That she doesn’t even have the right to speak with me alone?”
Lu Zehou admitted that his words were a provocation, poking the tiger.
If Qiu Yu weren’t present, Chen Cebai would have definitely killed him on the spot.
In fact, even without Chen Cebai making a move, the chilling, terrifying, and overwhelmingly aggressive aura radiating from him was enough to nearly suffocate Lu Zehou.
Luckily, Qiu Yu was genuinely kind.
She reached out, wrapped her arms around Chen Cebai’s neck, and kissed him lightly.
The terrifying, bone-chilling aura vanished instantly.
Lu Zehou, drenched in cold sweat, let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Chen Cebai lowered his gaze to look at her.
Qiu Yu whispered, “It’s fine, just a short private conversation. I guess Professor Lu wants to make a donation but feels embarrassed to bring it up in front of you…”
Chen Cebai clasped her hand, pressing the lower half of his face into her warm palm, closing his eyes. His cool, rapid breath spread across her skin.
After a long pause, his Adam’s apple rolled, and in a slightly hoarse voice, he said,
“…I don’t feel at ease letting you be alone with him.”
“Professor Lu is a good man.” Qiu Yu chuckled. “Besides, are you underestimating me? I’ve never fallen out of the top ten in the corporation’s combat and firearms training courses. With Professor Lu’s old bones and stiff joints, do you really think he can take me in a fight?”
Lu Zehou’s mouth twitched. “Could you at least lower your voice when badmouthing someone?”
Chen Cebai opened his eyes and looked at Qiu Yu.
Seizing the opportunity, Qiu Yu took off his glasses, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his thin eyelids gently. Her voice was sweet and crisp as she said, “Please?”
Even without her pleading, there was no way he could refuse her request.
Chen Cebai could only agree.
He pressed his fingers against his brow. “I’ll wait for you here. If anything seems off, call me.”
Qiu Yu found it amusing. “This place isn’t that big—what difference does it make whether I’m here or there?”
Chen Cebai didn’t respond.
Seeing his cold gaze sweep toward Lu Zehou, Qiu Yu stepped in to block his icy stare, gently placing the thin-framed glasses back on his face. She kissed him again. “Alright, if anything happens, I’ll definitely call you.”
The next second, her wrist was firmly grasped by Chen Cebai.
Qiu Yu tilted her head in mild confusion.
Chen Cebai closed his eyes briefly, then leaned close to her ear. His Adam’s apple moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he remained silent.
After a pause, he finally said, “Go ahead.”
Qiu Yu kissed his fingers lightly before turning around to face Lu Zehou with a smile. “Professor Lu, where shall we talk?”
Lu Zehou looked past her shoulder and met Chen Cebai’s icy, warning gaze.
It was clear—his possessiveness over Qiu Yu had already reached a pathological level.
Even a brief moment out of his sight, even a one-on-one conversation with a professor who was no physical threat whatsoever, was something he couldn’t tolerate.
Lu Zehou chuckled.
Since that was the case, he was even more determined to have a private conversation with Qiu Yu. A conversation completely isolated from Chen Cebai’s sight and perception.
“This way, Miss Qiu,” Lu Zehou said.