The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the laboratory workbench.
Yuan Xu was adding reagents to a petri dish with a pipette, her movements as precise as a fine instrument, even her breathing maintained a steady rhythm.
He only slowly looked up when Yu Jiuyuan's shadow fell on his experimental record, his gaze behind his glasses calm and unwavering.
“Your culture seems a bit abnormal.” Yu Jiuyuan leaned down to look at the petri dish, her fingertip lightly touching the edge. The mycelium there was a darker color than expected, as if covered with a layer of gray.
Her pinky ring had a very pale blue tint, indicating that although Yuan Xu's emotions were calm, there was an imperceptible sense of detachment, like a lake surface covered by a thin layer of ice.
Yuan Xu didn't say anything, but simply put down the pipette and took out the microscope to adjust it.
The slide made a faint sound as it was pushed in, which was particularly clear in the quiet laboratory.
"You were the one who brought up the title of Rong Shenghan?"
He suddenly spoke, his voice devoid of emotion, but his gaze, through the microscope's eyepiece, fell upon the writhing hyphae, as if studying some unfamiliar organism.
Yu Jiuyuan's pinky ring twitched.
She knew that this "pet" engrossed in scientific research, seemingly oblivious to worldly affairs, was surprisingly sensitive to changes around it.
She walked behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek against his back, and said in a soft voice, "So what if it is? Is Yuanxu unhappy?"
Yuan Xu's body stiffened, and the pipette almost slipped from her hand.
He turned off the microscope and turned around, a crack finally appearing in the calm in his eyes: "You know I don't care about these things."
“I know.” Yu Jiuyuan tilted her head back and kissed his chin, her fingertips tracing the buttons on his white coat. “But I care about what you think.”
Her kiss was deliberately gentle, moving from his chin to his Adam's apple and then to his collarbone, like soothing a disturbed experimental animal.
Yuan Xu's breathing gradually became erratic. He reached out and pressed his hand against the back of her neck, taking the initiative to deepen the kiss.
The smell of disinfectant in the laboratory mingled with the scent of gardenias on her body, creating a strange tension.
"Don't lie to me," he whispered on her lips, his voice carrying a vulnerability he himself was unaware of. "And don't treat me like a fool."
Yu Jiuyuan laughed, a sly madness flashing in her eyes.
She knew what Yuan Xu wanted: not an equal title, but his exclusive attention, proof that she still held a special place in this "taming game."
She reached out and unbuttoned his white coat, her fingertips brushing against his slightly cool skin, the blue light of his pinky ring shining just right: "Then I'll prove it to you, okay?"
The drawer of the control panel was knocked open, and the reagent bottles inside made a soft clattering sound.
Yuan Xu placed his hand on her waist, his strength carrying the restraint unique to researchers, but he suddenly lost control when he touched the tears in her eyes.
The shadow of the petri dish flickered on the wall, like a silent mime, recording this belated comfort.
Afterwards, Yu Jiuyuan lay on the control panel, watching Yuan Xu readjust the microscope, and suddenly found the scene very interesting.
This man, whose emotional fluctuations are so predictable, only reveals such an "imperfect" side to her.
“Your mycelium may be affected by temperature fluctuations,” she suddenly said, pointing her finger at the display screen of the incubator. “Try adjusting it back to 37.5 degrees Celsius.”
Yuan Xu looked up at her; the aloofness in her eyes had long since faded, leaving only the gentle warmth of someone who had survived a disaster.
He adjusted the temperature as she instructed, and sure enough, a few minutes later, the color of the mycelium gradually returned to normal.
"Thanks." His voice was soft, yet it carried an unprecedented gentleness.
Yu Jiuyuan smiled, and the blue light from the pinky ring indicated that his positive emotions had increased again.
She knew that she had calmed this "research-oriented" pet down.
When I went to see Xie Zhecheng in the afternoon, he was organizing the award certificates from the flower show.
Each certificate is framed in acrylic and arranged in the order of gold, silver, and bronze, with even the angle of tilt being exactly the same.
Sunlight fell on his gold-rimmed glasses, reflecting a dazzling light.
"Congratulations, President Xie." Yu Jiuyuan leaned against the door frame, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "The Biology Club won the Best Creativity Award."
Xie Zhecheng didn't turn around, but simply hung up the last certificate, saying in a calm voice, "It's all thanks to the members."
His tone carried a deliberate distance, and the blue light of his pinky ring tinged with a very faint gray—a color of dissatisfaction he was unwilling to reveal, like the surface of a lake shrouded in mist.
Yu Jiuyuan knew that this "perfectionist" prey was still resentful about Rong Shenghan's status.
She walked over and hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder: "Are you still angry?"
Xie Zhecheng's body stiffened, but he didn't push her away; his voice was just colder: "I didn't."
"You're lying." Yu Jiuyuan kissed his earlobe, her tongue gently tracing the protrusion. "Your certificate is crooked by 0.5 degrees. You never make this kind of mistake."
The blue light on the pinky ring flashed. [Xie Zhecheng: Favorability 97]
Xie Zhecheng's breath hitched, and sure enough, he turned around to look and found that the gold medal certificate on the far left was indeed crooked, like a thorn stuck in his eye.
He reached out to straighten him, but Yu Jiuyuan pressed his wrist down.
"Never mind that." She tilted her head back and kissed his lips, her voice sweet as honey. "More than a certificate, I want to know what reward President Xie wants."
The specimen box on the bookshelf was knocked and shook, and the cherry blossom specimens inside shimmered with a pale pink light in the sunlight.
Xie Zhecheng placed his hand on the back of her neck, the force carrying the obsessive intensity of a perfectionist, as if he wanted to etch her breath and her warmth into his very bones.
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