However, the nightmarish scene reappeared. Starting from the area where the chip was implanted, the reticular neurons began to break apart inch by inch, turning from a glossy brown to a dilapidated grayish-white, instantly appearing lifeless.
On the observation platform, the display showing the loss of connection with Experiment 3 highlighted yet another failure.
Jiangcheng fell silent.
Shen Yiran turned her head away, her eyes suddenly reddening. She was already emotionally sensitive, and the successive blows were making it hard for her to accept. She might need to rest for a while.
She lowered her head dejectedly, tears falling like beads from a broken string. Shen Yiran's crying was silent; she remained quiet, but her sobs were very infectious to those around her, casting a somber mood throughout the laboratory.
"That's enough for today." Jiang Cheng stood up, not looking at the researchers, and walked out of the room. He needed a quiet environment to think.
By the window.
Jiang Cheng gazed at a red willow tree growing in the wind and sand in the distance, his thoughts gradually drifting away.
He didn't think about why he failed. Now he wanted to let go of all thoughts, let his mind wander, and empty his mind as much as possible.
The tension was exhausting; he seemed to be looking at the red willows, or perhaps at the air itself, lost in thought.
Failure is not terrible... What's terrible is not knowing the reason, then there's absolutely no way to solve it.
Jiang Cheng couldn't show confusion or sadness, nor did he want to see the experimental subject deteriorate again, but to gain something, one must pay a price.
So where exactly is the key to breaking this deadlock?
Jiang Cheng let out a breath and pursed his lips.
Just then, his phone vibrated several times in his pocket. This is how it works when a call comes in while the phone is on silent. Jiang Cheng took out his phone in confusion and found that it was a call from Luo Xiaoli.
He pressed the answer button, and a familiar voice came from the other end of the line, "Hey, bro, are you busy right now?"
"I'm not busy, what's up?"
"I'm in the hospital now..."
"What happened?"
Upon hearing this, Jiang Cheng immediately tensed up, and his tone became more hurried.
"It wasn't me who got into trouble..." Luo Xiaoli hesitated, "It was Zhao Xuerou. She's unconscious right now, and I'm waiting for her family to come."
Jiang Cheng was stunned. He never expected that Xiao Li would be involved with Zhao Xuerou. And what was the reason for her unconsciousness?
Then, through the phone conversation, Jiang Cheng learned how many thrilling things had happened in Lanjing during his absence…
The story begins a dozen or so hours ago...
······
"Forehead······"
"Rustle and rustle..."
When Zhao Xuerou suddenly woke up, she was in a dimly lit room.
As soon as she regained consciousness, an indescribable pain spread through her limbs and bones... Zhao Xuerou's lip was cracked, and the wound had not yet scabbed over. Pulling on the corner of her lip would tear the soft flesh apart.
Her brain was throbbing, her leg muscles twitched occasionally, and she felt a numbness in her left cheek. Reaching up to touch it, she found a large, swollen area. The sharp pain that made her gasp and recoil as if electrocuted made her flinch.
She stood up, and as soon as she made a move, a "whoosh" sound rang out, quite jarring in the quiet room.
Zhao Xuerou looked down at her ankles and found herself chained to a thick iron chain. The other side of the chain was embedded in the wall. The heavy, cold chain looked like it belonged to a large animal, and it hurt her tender ankles.
The small room, only a few dozen square meters, was completely empty and looked dilapidated. She lifted her swollen face and looked around.
There were many spider webs in the corner, and a male spider with a brightly colored tail was diligently weaving its web, preparing to catch a confused moth.
The walls were only painted with a thin layer of white paint, so thin in some places that you could see the ugly gray-brown surface underneath. There was a puddle of something on the floor that looked like spilled and dried cough syrup. Oh... no, after a while, Zhao Xuerou realized it was blood.
She turned to look at the only tall window in the room, sat on the floor hugging her knees, her expression normal. In this confined space, Zhao Xuerou was unusually fearless and did not scream. She just stared quietly, completely lost in thought.
Upon closer inspection, it can be seen that Zhao Xuerou has many wounds on her body, with bruises clearly visible on her legs and wrists.
Outside, in a dilapidated hospital separated by a courtyard, in a huge, factory-like building, there were many patients sitting in chairs.
Most of them were seventeen or eighteen years old, and some were even younger. They had brightly colored hair, scars on their hands, and blank expressions with lifeless eyes.
These people looked like elderly people with dementia, but they were so young, creating a strange contrast. The atmosphere in the factory was also strange; no one spoke, everyone remained silent, and some people's saliva dripped from the corners of their mouths, soaking their front clothes.
Several middle-aged doctors in white coats dragged a teenager into the factory. They were all wearing masks, their faces hidden underneath, and their eyes were exceptionally cold.
The fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy struggled desperately, but his hands and feet were held down tightly. He cursed and shouted, the veins on his neck bulging, spewing out all sorts of vulgarities, but he couldn't make the doctors' expressions change at all.
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