Chapter 62 Rose Group

The uninhabited area spanning 500 kilometers is characterized by a dry and hot climate, with strong winds frequently lashing the ground, whipping up sand and gravel that obscure the endless black soil and gray hills.

Until the end of the world, no one knew that a company was hidden underground in the no-man's-land.

Rose Group, Office of Top Management.

The office, equivalent to three bedrooms, is decorated in a grand and elegant style, with a simple color scheme of only black and brown. Overall, it appears dark and somewhat oppressive.

However, a mural of a single pink rose behind the desk illuminated the room like a holy light in the darkness. The blooming petals were vibrant, reflecting a shimmering gold hue, and if you stared at it for a while, the colors seemed to flow slowly.

Misiko stood at a distance, her deep eyes fixed on the mural.

From a third-person perspective, her beauty blends seamlessly with the mural, creating an eerie yet magnificent atmosphere.

QQ!

Someone knocked lightly on the door.

Missy glanced back. Ah Liang was standing by the door.

"Come in."

Ah Liang came in and stood about a meter behind Missy.

"The new R manager, Bai Zhi, was promoted by Ji Fenglan, and has now been dealt with."

Missy gave a meaningless hum, as if in response. She turned her head and asked, "What about the previous R manager?"

Ah Liang raised his starry eyes beneath his long bangs, his tone somewhat disdainful.

"He didn't resist, he agreed quickly, and even swore that he was willing to do things for you, Big Sister."

Missy became interested in his tone. "What? You don't like R's management?"

"He surrendered without resistance, but he's a cowardly opportunist, not even as good as his former subordinate Bai Zhi. Sister, recommend someone else for management. Keep that man in the group, or he might stab you in the back."

Missy shook her head.

“We need him. After all, he’s been with the group for over a decade, he knows a lot about things inside. Once we have all the information—” Missy looked at him, her eyes full of meaning. “He’s at your disposal.”

Ah Liang smiled, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Missy took a few steps closer to him, her expression very serious: "I hope that in the future, you can help me manage the group."

Ah Liang's eyes widened slightly, his smile vanished, and then he nodded vigorously.

Missy patted him on the shoulder with satisfaction, then walked outside. Near the door, she stopped and said, "Don't look for me. I'm going to check on an old spot."

...

She was only 17 years old when she left.

Misico strolled down the unfamiliar corridor, her deep eyes searching for a familiar corner from her youth.

Standing before a wall sign, a sharp and vibrant green rose.

His deep gaze swept across the room. The same spot, the same color of roses, yet so different from the style of his memory.

It's obvious that someone has made changes.

The petals have clean lines, and the cool green color exudes aloofness and arrogance. Compared to the gentle elegance when the mother was in charge, the current overall style has a sharp, rational feel.

Even a single flower perfectly embodies Ji Fenglan's style.

Touching the rose with my fingers, I recalled the two years I spent living in the group's research department. The memories were hazy, except for the warm, dimly lit scenes of me with my mother, which became clear as if they were just yesterday.

Carrying the few remaining beautiful memories, we continue to move forward.

"boss."

"boss."

Ahead, the two guards noticed her approaching from afar, and as she drew near, they turned and nodded respectfully to her.

He stopped in front of his two subordinates, glancing at the room behind them where a group of research department employees were being held. These people stood obediently in three rows, waiting for the people sent by the newly arrived boss to check and verify their identities one by one.

Her subordinate's earlier address of her as "boss" drew curious glances from a crowd.

These people, these gazes, seem so familiar.

A scene from my childhood flashed by, gradually becoming clearer.

The mother led the way, holding her hand, while all sorts of men and women around them stopped to watch.

She was fifteen years old that year, and it was her first time visiting the company. These people, who all looked like highly educated intellectuals, were her mother's subordinates. Their curious gazes turned to amazement the moment they saw her. Some covered their mouths, speechless; those who managed to remain calm kept exclaiming—how could there be such a beautiful, dreamlike girl in the world? They almost suspected she was the daughter of the Western God who had been sent to earth.

More than a decade has passed, and there isn't a single familiar face in the crowd. Not even an employee photo from the personnel file could be seen, which is enough to show that G's internal purge was carried out very cleanly.

"Does any of you know where Dr. Normage lives?"

Misiko wanted to leave, but then she realized that she had been gone for 15 years and that her mother’s work-living residence had probably been demolished and rebuilt long ago after a fire. So she decided to find a staff member from headquarters to guide her.

“Ideally, they should be long-term employees who have worked here for more than ten years,” she added.

The crowd looked at each other.

Only one petite woman in her early forties stepped forward. She pushed up her thick-rimmed glasses, her tired eyes filled with caution.

A fish that slipped through the net during the Great Purge? Missy didn't give the woman another glance before turning and walking away.

The petite woman followed.

Missy may have deliberately slowed down, letting the woman walk in front.

When did you join the company?

The petite woman tilted her head back slightly, as if to take a look.

"October of the 35th year." The voice was neither loud nor soft.

Missy lifted her eyelids slightly.

“Oh, what a coincidence, the fire that burned Dr. Normage to death also happened around this time,” she said casually.

The petite woman stumbled a couple of steps, seemingly very nervous, and then lowered her head and let out a muffled "hmm."

"No wonder you're the only one who's willing to step forward and lead the way."

The woman didn't answer, and Missy didn't seem to care. The two walked on in silence.

They stood near an old-fashioned partition wall, out of place with its surroundings; anyone with a discerning eye could tell it had been added later.

Missy looked at the petite woman.

The woman adjusted her thick glasses. "G management has regulations that prohibit anyone from approaching this area, let alone entering."

Missy's gaze wandered, stopping at the base of the wall and the ground, where there were arc-shaped friction marks.

"If you can't come in, who can? G management?"

The petite woman looked at the ground following the new boss's gesture, her cautious eyes revealing confusion, followed by surprise.

Missy reached out and pushed open an invisible door with ease, as if it had never been closed.

Missy lowered his head to go inside when he suddenly heard the woman behind him hesitate and ask a question.

"You are the doctor's daughter?"

Missy didn't respond, but turned around and gave a polite, slight smile.

"Thank you for showing me the way."

After saying that, she went inside without looking back, her long, golden curly hair dimming in the gloom.

Tap, tap, tap...

I walked in low heels on the dirty black floor, which was covered with a thick layer of dust and ash, making it a bit slippery.

A row of voice-activated LED lights on the ceiling above my head flickered weakly, sometimes blinking frequently due to insufficient power.

The passageway was dimly lit, the air was murky, and tiny dust particles could be seen floating slowly.

Missy covered her itchy nose.

As she went deeper, the blackening of the walls intensified, and she felt as if she were being swallowed by a gaping maw of hell.

She had reached the end of the T-shaped passage and was looking at the intersections on both sides.

To the right was the path to the source of the fire—the mother's study; to the left was the path to the living room.

After a second of thought, I turned left.

It is said that in the year before her mother died, a classified project that had been under research for nearly 20 years had just broken through to the third key point. Since she was secretly moved and sold by Lin Zhijun, her mother, unaware of this, spent most of her time in her private research room in order to speed up the progress. She practically treated the research room as her home, eating, drinking, relieving herself, and sleeping there. Any needs or progress were relayed by her most trusted genius student, Ji Fenglan.

The living room was much better than the study, although black smoke still filled the entire corridor.

A light in the room not far away lit up, easing the heaviness of the darkness.

His deep eyes narrowed.

—There's someone inside.

I tiptoed closer to the door.

I peered into the half-open door.

The living room isn't large, laid out like a hotel-style one-bedroom apartment. Aside from a separate bathroom and a partitioned kitchen, there are two beds. A desk is placed at the foot of the beds, and a wardrobe is against the wall outside the bathroom.

The mysterious woman who arrived before her sat at the desk with her back to the door. Her head, with strands of white hair mixed with black hair, swayed as her withered hands carefully searched through a drawer that she had pulled out separately from the desk.

Missy pressed his hand on the gun handle at his lower back and deliberately pushed the door open.

The door lightly bumped against the wall.

The mysterious woman's hand paused abruptly. She turned her head and glanced at her stiffly.

That one glance was enough to make Missy draw his gun instantly.

Her eyes were filled with hatred, but she did not immediately kill the murderer of her mother; instead, she held the weapon by her side, ready to strike.

After recognizing her, the mysterious woman continued rummaging through the drawers.

Missy gradually gets closer to the nonchalant killer.

For a moment, she didn't know whether to scold her or laugh at her. Facing the culprit who murdered her mother, she remained remarkably calm.

The gun was pressed against the killer's head.

"Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?"

The murderer ignored him and pulled out another drawer. He took out a notebook, and a pen suddenly fell to the ground, rolling a few times on the table.

The murderer was clearly stunned, his hand holding the notebook motionless.

With his other hand trembling, he picked up the pen.

His pale, wrinkled face was filled with extraordinary joy, almost to the point of tears. No, tears welled up in his eyes the moment he blinked.

Missy looked at her with a strange expression.

He escaped from solitary confinement for decades, all for his mother's pen?

She turned her gaze to the pen; the paint was worn and peeling, revealing the original state of the pen barrel.

“She’s using it; she’s been using it all along.”

The murderer looked at her with tears in his eyes.

Missy's eyes were cold, as if she were watching some clown show. In fact, she was thinking about a small incident that happened when she lived with her mother for two years.

Without telling her mother about this small matter, she took it upon herself to throw away her mother's old fountain pen. Her mother, upon finding out, didn't utter a single word of reproach. That night, she stared at her mother's empty bed, only seeing her again when she opened her eyes in the morning. The old fountain pen she had thrown away was stuck neatly in a book on the table. She had asked her mother why she had picked it up overnight, and her mother said it was something she was used to.

"This is a birthday gift I gave to your mother. I didn't expect that she would keep using it."

The murderer closed the pen with both hands, a tender look on his face.

Is he savoring the pleasure of killing someone?

Misike felt a strange, sudden wave of nausea.

Seeing the woman's dazed expression as she pressed the pen against her face.

--"madman!"

He swung a gun and smashed it into the woman's face.

The woman slammed her head against the edge of the table.

The old, dilapidated table made a creaking sound as it fell apart.

The woman awkwardly raised her face, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the notebook. Oblivious to the pain, she frantically searched for the pen that had flown away.

Missy glanced disdainfully at the woman lying on the ground in front of him, his gaze drawn to the dangling pendant around her neck.

When he saw what it looked like, his face changed color abruptly.

How did the family necklace that her mother had worn since childhood end up on her?

The woman happened to find a pen and used the corner of her clothes to wipe away the ashes.

A shadow loomed down upon them.

"How did you obtain our family's necklace?"

The heavy questioning overhead was like the whisper of a demon.

The woman paused for a second, then quickly tucked the necklace into her collar. She curled up into a turtle-like shape.

"It was given to me by your mother."

Missy was taken aback, but quickly retorted. Impossible! A mother wouldn't even give her own daughter to her, how could she give her to someone who's been a third party?

The woman in front of her had been observing her closely. Taking advantage of the moment, she suddenly stood up, shoved Missy aside, and ran towards the door.

Missy ignored the excruciating pain in her brow bone and chased after him.

During the chase, Missy recalled many details he had previously overlooked. These details, instead of resolving the doubts, brought forth even more mysteries.

The woman was thin, yet she ran incredibly fast.

Missy raised his gun as he ran and shouted a warning: "Stop!"

The woman turned around once, then continued running away.

The gun fired a bullet, deliberately missing its target and hitting the ground.

The woman didn't stop; instead, she ran into the research lab. Missy followed, only to become lost in the chaos. All he could see were charred and broken pieces of equipment; the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Missy gripped the gun handle tightly.

Deep, dark eyes.

What exactly is their relationship?