VHBF -Chapter 123 The Bigshot Researcher Daddy (Part 13)

For Lin Ju and Li Jiaxing, being persuaded to leave the research institute was like having the last straw in their hands knocked away. The moment they stepped out of the institute, they would forever be separated from this heavily guarded place—one that outsiders were not allowed to enter easily—by an enormous, insurmountable gulf.

Not to mention reporting or exposing anyone; even if they wanted to steal the virus out and destroy it, it would be anything but easy. It could be said to be as difficult as ascending to the heavens.

This was a national research institute, guarded by a dedicated armed force. If they approached without a legitimate reason, it wouldn’t be surprising if someone pointed a gun straight at their heads.

Director Lin gave them one day to leave—meaning that after tomorrow, they would no longer be allowed to set foot in this place.

When the news spread, the other interns from the same batch couldn’t help feeling a bit schadenfreude. The couple, Lin Ju and Li Jiaxing, were truly unpleasant to work with—never doing their jobs properly, their eyes constantly darting around as if plotting something.

Over this period of time, the other interns had all improved to varying degrees. These two, on the other hand, showed no signs of progress; in fact, they were even less attentive than when they first arrived. They had to be urged to do everything and frequently made mistakes.

Under gazes that were either cold or gloating, Lin Ju wore a sour expression as she slowly packed her things into a cardboard box, dragging her feet.

Someone clicked their tongue and muttered, “Reaping what you sow.”

“We do research by keeping our heads down and working honestly. All those tricks are useless, right, Old Huang?”

“You’re right. Just work properly!”

“Tsk, tsk…”

Lin Ju felt nothing about her colleagues’ indifference. In her heart, these people were all going to die sooner or later anyway. So what if they were smug now?

Sooner or later, they’d die stupid deaths!

Li Jiaxing stood to the side, slowly packing up with his girlfriend. They couldn’t just leave like this. Once they left, there really might be no way out.

Lin Ju slowly tossed things into the box, inching along like a turtle. A nearby researcher glanced over and couldn’t help wanting to roll his eyes. No matter how much you dawdle, you still have to leave. If you don’t hurry back, are you planning to stay here and embarrass yourself?

When there was no one left around—everyone having gone to the cafeteria for lunch—Lin Ju finally glanced around and said in a low voice to Li Jiaxing, “We can’t just leave like this…”

Li Jiaxing nodded. If they left now, that would be the end of it—but what awaited them would be the apocalypse not long after. By then, they truly wouldn’t be able to do anything to Mo Linqing anymore.

In their previous life, the entire world had been hunting him down, and yet no one managed to take him out. Some people even betrayed everyone else and defected to him, worshipping him as a king, revering him like a god.

“But… what can we do?” Li Jiaxing hesitated. “Lin Ju, you have the space. Think of something?”

Lin Ju lowered her eyes and thought for a long while. Her space could be entered and exited at any time—perfect for escaping or stealing things.

“Don’t rush packing,” she said. “Drag it out. When there’s an opening, I’ll hide in the space. You take the jade pendant and bring me in, then find a chance to slip away. Once I message you, you come back to cover me.”

Li Jiaxing looked at his girlfriend, disbelief in his eyes. “You…”

“Yes,” Lin Ju said. “We’ll directly steal the Z virus. Then we’ll use the physical evidence to expose Mo Linqing’s conspiracy, and after that, destroy the virus. That way, we prove our righteous stance and stop the world from being destroyed. They should be thanking us.”

Li Jiaxing truly hadn’t expected his girlfriend to be this bold. She was really throwing caution to the wind. Stealing something from a research institute—if they were caught, even if the armed police shot them on the spot, it would be justified. The place was guarded that strictly, and she actually dared.

Li Jiaxing was still hesitant. Lin Ju hiding in the space would be fine, but he would be the one carrying the jade pendant and sneaking into the professor’s office—he’d be the obvious target. The hallways were full of surveillance cameras; if anyone got caught, it would be him.

From the start, Li Jiaxing hadn’t been without covetous thoughts about Lin Ju’s jade pendant space. Unfortunately, it was bound to its owner. Lin Ju had said that outsiders couldn’t use it, and Li Jiaxing had tried—it really didn’t work. Even entering the space required Lin Ju’s consent.

Seeing his expression, Lin Ju smiled and said, “Don’t you want to live a good life? Spend the rest of your days in the apocalypse? Don’t you want to be a savior?”

No matter which one it was, Li Jiaxing wanted it. Precisely because he had experienced the despair of the apocalypse, he wanted even more to live in a peaceful world. Between the two reasons, Lin Ju—the transmigrator—was actually more interested in the latter: being the savior.

The two reached an agreement. When the researchers returned after lunch, they found that these two still hadn’t finished packing—their desks half-cleared, things left there, and the people nowhere to be seen.

The researchers exchanged glances and shrugged helplessly. In any case, they wouldn’t be seeing them again. That was a good thing. Having to work with people like that for a lifetime would be pure suffering.

For lunch, Yinyin ate a bento brought from home—made by Good Daddy. Somehow, Good Daddy had had an epiphany and learned online how to make delicate children’s meals: chubby little pig-shaped buns, cute rice balls, beautifully carved vegetables, and even a strawberry-flavored mini cake baked in the home oven.

The proportions, ingredients, and size were all made strictly according to the online recipes, not the slightest deviation. It looked great and tasted even better, making Yinyin overjoyed.

She didn’t pester about going out to eat anymore, happily hugging Daddy’s bento and eating until she was full.

After Yinyin obediently finished her meal and fell asleep on the small sofa in the office, Mo Linqing covered her with a small blanket and then went out.

He went to speak with the institute director about the specific details of officially entering the research phase of the project. Even now, the director still couldn’t believe that Professor Mo was going to research a drug capable of curing terminal illnesses. Because he couldn’t believe it, he kept asking again and again. Mo Linqing’s answer never changed: they were doing it, watching it, and waiting.

No sooner had Mo Linqing left than the office door was pushed open.

Who would dare to privately push open Professor Mo’s office door in the research institute? Normally, people would walk extra carefully even passing by that area, afraid of disturbing the bigshot’s peace. Who would have thought someone would have the audacity to enter?

Yinyin’s little mouth opened and closed as she slept soundly. She was young and loved sleeping; usually after lunch, she needed one or two hours of sleep before she’d be energetic again.

Li Jiaxing looked around. There was no one nearby. Those who had work were holed up in their labs doing research; those who didn’t had gone to the cafeteria. This moment happened to be a perfect gap.

After carefully pushing the door open, he immediately closed it guiltily, took out the jade pendant, and whispered, “Linlin, we’re here—come out.”

The next second, a living person appeared out of thin air. Lin Ju materialized in the office. She subconsciously swept her gaze around—Mo Linqing really wasn’t there.

“All right, leave the rest to me. Hurry up and get out. Remember to wait for my message and come cover me.”

After finalizing everything, Li Jiaxing retreated and even thoughtfully closed the door behind him.

Mo Linqing’s private laboratory for cultivating the Z virus was inside this office, connected directly to it. The only entrance was also within the office.

Lin Ju wandered around a bit and reached out to push the door—it opened with just one push. Was Mo Linqing so skilled and bold, or just carelessly sloppy? He didn’t even lock the lab door?

The corner of her lips curled upward. One minute—she only needed one minute to steal the virus. Surely, within such a short time, Mo Linqing wouldn’t make it back.

Lin Ju took out her phone and sent a message to Li Jiaxing, who had just left: “One minute later, wait for me at the office door.”

The reply came quickly: “Okay.”

Lin Ju smiled. A sense of victory within reach suddenly washed over her. She felt that transmigrating really did have meaning—heaven wouldn’t send you to another world for no reason. This trip of hers was probably meant to stop the villain from wreaking havoc, expose his crimes, and return peace to the world.

The lab wasn’t small or large. The walls were silver-gray, as was the floor, filled with cold instruments and transparent containers cultivating various small things.

Lin Ju found the largest transparent sealed container in the very center at the back. Inside was a mass of something indistinct to the naked eye, faintly emitting a pale blue glow.

She leaned in and looked through the microscope, letting out a cold laugh in her heart. So Mo Linqing wasn’t just cultivating a single Z virus—he was raising a whole group, like breeding gu. They were even devouring each other.

Lin Ju suddenly thought of something: back then, the drug made from the Z virus to cure terminal illnesses had a companion drug. Could it be that Mo Linqing was studying that companion drug by letting these viruses devour each other?

No matter what, it had nothing to do with her now. She just needed to steal the thing.

Lin Ju pressed a switch, and the transparent cabinet enclosing the Z virus opened. She reached in and took out the sealed transparent container holding the virus.

When you reach the bridge, the boat will straighten itself out—there’s always a solution. Thinking of how nothing had gone smoothly since she came to this institute, and now, just as she was about to be expelled, she could still turn things around and achieve her original goal by relying on herself, Lin Ju felt triumphant. Let whoever wants to stay in this lousy institute stay—she didn’t care!

Compared to when she came in, Lin Ju’s steps were much lighter when she left, and she even couldn’t help humming her favorite song from her previous life.

The lab was rectangular, and the Z virus was placed at the very back. Lin Ju spent half a minute getting in and another half a minute getting out.

Suddenly, she looked up—and froze.

Standing at the lab entrance was a sleepy little Yinyin. She was rubbing her eyes, one chubby hand clinging to the doorframe, looking over in a daze.