Meilin returned to the main hall.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, laying long bands of gold across the polished floor. The house was quiet now—too quiet after the earlier warmth.
Grandpa Tang stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back.
He hadn't moved since seeing Old Master Mo off.
He was thinking.
Deeply.
When Meilin stepped inside, he turned.
"Come here, granddaughter."
His voice was calm, but there was something heavy beneath it—something that had already been decided in his heart.
Meilin walked over and stopped in front of him.
Grandpa Tang studied her for a long moment. Not the way one looks at a child, but the way a man looks at someone he intends to protect for the rest of his life.
"Meilin," he said slowly, "have you ever thought about changing your surname?"
She blinked.
"…Changing it?"
He nodded. "To Tang."
The word landed softly—but firmly.
"Your biological father," Grandpa Tang continued, voice steady, "has never fulfilled his duty. A surname is not just blood—it is responsibility. Protection. A place to belong."
He paused, then added quietly, "You've been living under a name that has never truly sheltered you."
Meilin's fingers tightened slightly at her side.
Grandpa Tang went on, as if afraid she might hesitate.
"I've already arranged things. I had your household registration records transferred from your original city. The paperwork is ready. Today, we can go to the Public Security Bureau's Household Registration Office and complete the name change."
He turned to face her fully.
"If you are willing… from today onward, you will be Tang Meilin."
Silence filled the hall.
Meilin lowered her gaze.
Her mind drifted—not to her father's face, but to cold nights, broken trust, and a home that had never felt like home.
Then—to this place.
To warm breakfasts.
To a garden filled with morning light.
To a grandfather who stood in front of her like a mountain.
I'm alive because of the Tang family.
I'm protected because of the Tang family.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"…Why not?" she said softly.
She lifted her head, eyes clear.
"Grandpa, from now on… I'll be Tang Meilin."
For the first time that morning, Grandpa Tang's expression broke.
His eyes reddened just slightly.
"Good," he said, voice thick. "Very good."
He reached out and placed his hand gently on her head—a rare, restrained gesture, but heavy with meaning.
"Get ready," he said. "We'll go now."
An hour later, a black sedan pulled out of the Tang residence.
Destination:Capital City Public Security Bureau – Household Registration Division (户籍管理处)
As the city streets passed by the window, Meilin rested her head lightly against the seat.
Tang Meilin.
The name felt unfamiliar.
But also—
Like something she had always been meant to return to.
And this time, she knew:
She was real Tang now.
She was finally claiming her place.
""""""""""""""""""""""
The moment Meilin stepped inside, the air changed.
Filtered. Sterile. Charged with the faint hum of precision instruments.
White corridors stretched ahead, glass walls revealing sealed laboratories bathed in cold blue light. Researchers moved with clipped efficiency, tablet screens glowing with scrolling data.
An assistant was already waiting.
"Miss Tang," he said, bowing slightly.
Meilin nodded. "Take me to the lab."
Yes."
They passed through biometric locks—retinal scan, palm vein authentication, DNA verification. One after another, barriers fell away.
Finally, Jin stopped in front of a sealed chamber.
Inside, a holographic display floated midair.
TOXIN PROFILE: Triple-Strain Neuro-Inhibitor
Meilin's eyes sharpened.
She read silently.
Component 1: Identified (Antidote available).Component 2: Unknown Synthetic (Requires molecular mapping).Component 3: Latent Neuro-Suppressant• Structure: Unknown• Activation: Delayed• Lethality: High
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"Component 3," she said. "Pull up its behavioral data."
The screen shifted.
Neural transmission graphs flared to life—synaptic suppression curves, neurotransmitter depletion rates, cerebral cortex activity plunging in stages.
Jin spoke carefully. "It doesn't kill immediately. It binds to neural receptors silently, bypassing the blood-brain barrier. Once it accumulates past threshold—"
"The autonomic nervous system shuts down," Meilin finished. "Respiration first. Then cardiac rhythm."
Jin swallowed. "Yes."
Meilin leaned closer, eyes scanning molecular simulations.
This isn't a conventional toxin," she murmured. "It's a neuro-inhibitory scaffold, probably peptide-based, but stabilized with a synthetic carrier. Whoever designed it understood neural plasticity—and weaponized it."
She straightened.
"Component 1 can be neutralized. Component 2 needs mapping. But none of that matters if Component 3 remains active."
She turned decisively. "We start with receptor binding analysis. Run in-silico docking simulations across known neural receptors—GABA, NMDA, acetylcholine, dopamine."
Jin's fingers flew over the console.
"And prepare CRISPR-modified neuronal cell cultures," she added. "I want to observe suppression patterns at the cellular level. If it inhibits ion channel transmission, we can trace its footprint."
"Yes, Miss Tang."
Meilin exhaled slowly.
Her mind was already racing—chemical antagonists, enzyme inhibitors, competitive binding agents.
To counter a toxin like this, she wouldn't just need an antidote.
She would need to outthink its creator.
"Component 3 first," she said quietly. "Once I isolate its structure, we'll design a reversal agent—something that can cross the blood-brain barrier faster than it can suppress."
Her gaze hardened.
"Then," she added, "we move on to Component 2."
Because this wasn't just about saving one life.
This toxin had been designed for deployment.
And Tang Meilin had no intention of letting it succeed.
The lab clock shifted.
17:58 → 17:59 → 18:00
Meilin didn't look up.
Her screen was layered with molecular lattices—rotating peptide chains, receptor docking simulations, probability trees branching endlessly and collapsing just as fast.
Component 3 remained untouched.
Not unsolved—unmoved.
She had traced its behavior across neural synapses, mapped its suppression curve, even isolated its temporal release pattern. It wasn't aggressive. It was patient. A toxin designed to wait.
She removed her gloves slowly.
The room felt colder without the hum of concentration holding it together.
Jin stood nearby, careful not to interrupt. He had noticed hours ago that the lunch tray sent in at noon had remained sealed, untouched, and eventually taken away.
"You should rest," he said gently. "At least eat something."
She shook her head once.
"Not yet," she replied. "This compound resists forced extraction. If I rush, I'll miss its flaw."
But even as she said it, her vision blurred slightly—not from emotion, but fatigue.
She saved the final simulation, tagging it INCOMPLETE, then leaned back for the first time that day.
A long way to go.
Component 3 was layered—designed by someone who understood both medicine and killing. Whoever made it never intended a quick death.
She checked the time again.
Six.
That was her limit today.
Meilin stood, slipped her coat on, and left the lab without ceremony. No announcements. No goodbyes.
Outside, the evening air felt sharper against her skin.
Commander Yan was already by the car, opening the door the moment he saw her.
She sat back against the leather seat, eyes closing briefly—not sleep, just stillness.
Only then did she notice it.
The hollow ache.
Her stomach tightened, reminding her she had skipped more than just lunch—she had skipped herself.
"Miss," Yan said as the engine started, "should we stop for food?"
She opened her eyes, gaze settling on the city lights beginning to bloom.
"No."
A pause.
"Capital University," she said instead.
Yan glanced at her through the mirror but didn't question it. "Understood."
The car pulled into traffic.
Outside, the city moved on—students laughing, street vendors calling, life unfolding as if nothing were wrong.
Inside, Meilin rested her head against the window.
Component 3 remained unsolved.
He remained poisoned.
And tonight—she needed to see him, even if only from a distance.
The gates of Capital University exhaled students into the night.
Xie Zihan walked beside Xu Feng, backpack slung over one shoulder, steps steady but measured. The campus lights faded behind them, replaced by the uneven glow of streetlamps further down the road.
Xu Feng broke the silence first."We can't rely on the bar anymore," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Neon Light's done with us. Maybe we should look for another part-time—"
"No need," Zihan interrupted calmly.
Xu Feng turned. "Huh?"
"I've finished seventy percent of the game engine," Zihan said. "Core mechanics, physics loop, reward system—all stable. Tonight I'll complete the remaining modules."
Xu Feng stopped walking. "You're serious?"
Zihan nodded. "Tomorrow's startup summit. If we pitch it right, we can get seed investment."
Xu Feng's eyes lit up. "Then I'll handle projections, user growth, investor contacts. Leave the tech to you."
"Good."
They turned into the last street before their apartment.
The light disappeared.
No shops.No streetlamps.Only shadow and silence, thick and watching.
—
A black car rolled slowly at a distance.
Inside, Meilin sat in the back seat, fingers curled unconsciously against her coat sleeve. Her eyes never left the two figures ahead.
He's walking too fast, she thought.He's tired.
Commander Yan glanced back. "Miss, do you want to get down?"
Her lips parted—then closed.
What would he think if I suddenly appeared?Why are you following me?Are you pitying me?
"No," she said quietly. "Wait here."
The car slowed to a stop near the university gate.
Meilin stepped out alone, keeping to the shadows, following at a careful distance.
Her gaze drifted—unwillingly—to the memory of the toxin report.
Triple-strain.Latent neuro-suppressant.Still active.
You shouldn't be exerting yourself, she thought, chest tightening.And yet… you never stop.
—
Footsteps stopped ahead.
Five figures emerged from the darkness.
Blocking the path.
The smell of alcohol came first. Then laughter—low, ugly.
"Well, well," one of them sneered. "Looks like the pretty bartender and his friend."
Xu Feng stiffened. "It's them."
Last night's fight.The spilled drink.The humiliation.
One man cracked his knuckles. Another pulled a short knife, the blade catching faint moonlight.
"Thought you could walk away?""Let's teach them manners."
Xu Feng stepped back instinctively.
Zihan stepped forward.
"Run," Zihan said quietly.
Xu Feng clenched his jaw. "Not happening."
The first punch came fast.
Zihan blocked, twisted, drove his elbow into the attacker's ribs. Pain exploded up his arm—but he didn't slow. He moved on instinct, precise, economical.
Two more rushed in.
Xu Feng tackled one, barely dodging a kick.
Then—
A blur entered the fight.
Fast.Sharp.Unhesitating.
Meilin.
She struck from the side, palm driving into a pressure point at the man's neck. He collapsed without a sound.
Zihan's head snapped toward her.
Her?
For half a second—just half—his concentration fractured.
A blade flashed.
Meilin twisted, but not fast enough.
The knife grazed her hand.
Blood bloomed red against pale skin.
"Meilin!" Zihan's voice broke.
Something inside him snapped.
He moved without thought—placing himself between her and the knife, shoulder taking a blow meant for her. Pain flared, sharp and deep, but he didn't retreat.
They fought back-to-back without realizing it.
Every step she took, he covered.Every opening he left, she sealed.
Unspoken. Instinctive.
As if their bodies remembered something their minds did not.
Another attacker lunged.
Meilin kicked his knee sideways—bone cracked—then drove her elbow down.
Her injured hand trembled, but she ignored it.
Zihan saw the blood again.
You're hurt.Why are you here?Why are you risking yourself for me?
Sirens cut through the night.
Blue and red lights spilled into the alley.
The attackers scattered—but not fast enough.
"Police! Hands up!"
Commander Yan emerged from the shadows, phone still in hand, eyes cold and lethal.
The street filled with authority, metal, order.
The fight was over.
—
Silence returned—broken only by harsh breathing.
Meilin finally looked down at her hand.
Zihan reached out before he realized it.
"Let me see."
She froze.
So did he.
Their eyes met.
Too close.Too quiet.
"…It's just a scratch," she said softly, pulling back.
But his gaze lingered—on the blood, on her face, on the fact that she had come at all.
Police questions followed. Statements. Formalities.
None of it registered.
All Zihan could think was—
She came because of me.
And Meilin, standing a step away, thought only—
The toxin is still inside you.And I'm running out of time.
The night swallowed its secrets again.
But something irreversible had already begun.