The first time Lan Lingyan saw that person was on his way to the laboratory.

She lay quietly in the nutrient fluid, looking as if she were merely asleep; were it not for the distinctly feminine cast of her face, the body, long since disfigured beyond recognition, would no longer have resembled its original owner. Tubes of various sizes pierced her, her blood replaced entirely by the nutrient solution, yet her face had been preserved impeccably by the scientists, as though it were a most cherished antique. If, using a common analogy, all women in the world were fine wine, she would undoubtedly be the one with two slices of lemon added to the glass.

For some inexplicable reason, Lan Lingyan found himself staring at her for a long time, with an emotion he himself couldn’t quite decipher.

Many small and large orifices dotted her body, the tubes within resembling intricate, tangled roots deeply embedded in her flesh. Her skin was so pale it verged on blue, and her lips were bleached white. Yet, despite the lack of color, they were exquisitely maintained, retaining their necessary moisture, giving them a surprisingly tender appearance. Her eyelids were so thin one could almost see the orbs beneath, though she could barely manage to open them now, her breathing faint to the point of nonexistence. Professor Raymond in the laboratory regretfully informed him that this experimental subject, possessing a fragile constitution but remarkably resilient spirit, was nearing her end.

The laboratory had recently developed a new type of drug—one designed to minimize physical harm while maximizing addiction potential. Crucially, once absorbed, it became impossible to quit. This was the subject of a major contract Lan Lingyan had just finalized, the proceeds of which would be enough to make him wealthier than any nation. Best of all, only his laboratory could produce it, presenting an opportunity beyond measure. While he was already quite wealthy, this particular business venture also benefited the Lan family, thus piquing his rare interest in negotiation.

But even with minimized damage, the research process for this drug was slowly eroding the vitality from her body.

For some reason, Lan Lingyan felt a distinct displeasure brewing within him.

There were many specimens in the lab, and many women among them. There were certainly beauties surpassing hers, but none like her—none who made his heart itch, his fingers twitch with the urge to do something, yet left him paralyzed. Lan Lingyan looked at the array of openings on her body, some turning faintly white from soaking in the nutrient solution, making her resemble a mannequin. Yet, strangely, she exuded an air of profound, tranquil serenity.

“What is her name, and how did she arrive?” Lan Lingyan inquired, his expression cold. His eyes were icy and distant, seemingly devoid of any emotional fluctuation, yet the corner of his mouth curved into a smile that sent a chill down the spine. This was his laboratory, his domain. The scientists here were fiercely loyal; he needed no pretense. His demeanor at that moment was dangerously volatile, causing the tall, thin professor to pause.

“Please allow me to check.” With that, Professor Raymond summoned an assistant to bring a holographic tablet. He donned a monocle, and after a moment of scrutiny, a smile touched his lean face. “She was sent by the Master. Her name is Ning Yunhuan.”

In that instant, Lan Lingyan couldn't quite place the sensation in his heart—a frustrating agitation he couldn't vent. Ning? The surname felt vaguely familiar, as if he’d heard it somewhere before. Lan Lingyan suppressed the annoyance, his expression unshifting. Within a few breaths, he recalled it: the young woman the infatuated Mu family boy was obsessed with, offered to him as a gift.

“Her body has reached its limit. If she weren't forcing herself to endure, she likely wouldn't wake up.” Even if she did awaken, it might only be an unconscious opening of the eyes. Her respiratory system was already controlled by computers; whether her heart functioned was irrelevant—it was merely the body’s instinct to keep the mouth moving. In truth, the air she inhaled offered no benefit. Her body was sustained entirely by machinery, but this shell was becoming useless, destined to be discarded as scrap soon. It was a pity, for this woman’s tolerance was extraordinary; many men couldn't match it. All the molds brought in with her batch had already perished, and even those introduced much later were mostly dead, yet she persisted.

Although Professor Raymond wasn't sure if what remained could still be called life, he felt a pang of regret for specimen A0743216—what a terrible waste.

What troubled the professor even more was his boss’s seemingly unusual fixation on this test subject. He was quite vexed. The situation was clearly irreversible. Even with a multitude of geniuses in the lab, including surgical prodigies, and despite the professor himself having excelled in medicine before joining the facility, Professor Raymond had to admit that even if God himself descended, saving this Chinese girl’s life was impossible.

Lan Lingyan said nothing more. He even sensed Professor Raymond’s distress but offered no comment, merely nodding once. He glanced again at the specimen suspended in the nutrient fluid—Ning Yunhuan. He shouldn't have needed to remember, but inexplicably, his gaze lingered. He could even visualize her soft skin and peaceful sleeping face with his eyes closed. If one overlooked her setting and her ravaged body, he saw her long hair drifting in the fluid, like a Sleeping Beauty awaiting a prince’s kiss to awaken her in her castle.

Her lips were pale. Though not dehydrated, they had long lost their luster, and he knew they were cold without touching them. Just a specimen, Lan Lingyan sneered, not looking again nor uttering another word, hands tucked into his pockets as he departed.

He had countless matters to attend to. The Lan family required his oversight. Currently childless, certain antiquated members of the clan were already plotting to usurp his position as heir or force a Lan-surnamed child upon him through adoption. He was exceedingly busy; purging these old relics would consume significant energy. Furthermore, his father showed no sign of stepping down, and Lan Lingyan could not wait.

Lan Lingyan was twenty-nine, while his father remained in his prime. If he waited for natural death, it might be another hundred years. The Lan family possessed many longevity remedies, yet few of their patriarchs died peacefully of old age; most succumbed to sudden, mysterious ailments around the age of forty or fifty. Lan Lingyan held no intention of breaking this tradition through his own passing. However, his father guarded him fiercely. Because he was born two decades later, he currently lacked the absolute leverage to eliminate his father. Rumor had it that the couple was already attempting to conceive a new son, and the assassination attempts against him had recently intensified.

Lan Lingyan returned to his residence. While showering, the face of the dying woman named Ning appeared in his mind. It was bizarre. Though her appearance was still delicate, there were countless women far more vibrant—women with vivid crimson lips and ample bosoms. Yet, thinking of them brought him no agitation. It was the vision of her face, pale almost to transparency, that caused his fingers to twitch involuntarily, as if reaching out to touch her cheek. But his touch met only water slipping through his fingers. Beneath the damp, clinging hair, a pair of ominous eyes flashed with dangerous malice.

A faint snap was swallowed by the rush of water, but Lan Lingyan, cautious to the core throughout his life, coldly grasped the pistol hidden inside his robe. The lights remained on; he hadn't bothered to dress. As he yanked open the bathroom door, the would-be assailant never found her opening. She only heard a muffled grunt, saw thin smoke curl from the muzzle, and watched a spray of blood erupt from a hole the size of a peanut between her eyebrows, trickling down her distorted face.

His father could not wait any longer, daring to employ even such a readily disposable asset. Lan Lingyan rewrapped the gun in his bathrobe. By the time he finished brushing his teeth and stepped out of the bathroom, the body was gone, and the bloodstains meticulously scrubbed away.

This life was dreadfully tedious. Apart from the pursuit of unseating his father and seizing control of the Lan family, Lan Lingyan could not conceive of any other current interest.

Except there was one! The image of that woman—the one who elicited a subtle, almost chemical reaction within him—floated into his mind. Ning. Ning Yunhuan. Lying there, sleeping so soundly, fragile yet imbued with a strange peace that made one reluctant to disturb her. Lan Lingyan frowned. He felt something was wrong with himself, but as of yet, he held no deep aversion to his own reaction.

By the time he returned to the laboratory late in the middle of the night, Lan Lingyan understood his strangeness. He knew the risks of venturing out after dark for a man like him; his head commanded a hefty price, and countless rivals awaited such an opportunity. His power base was not yet fully established; his father was intent on pruning his influence, keeping him within manageable limits. The current situation favored his father, yet he still went out. He intensely desired to see if the woman who constantly occupied his thoughts—the one giving him this unsettling feeling—still possessed the mesmerizing quality that captivated him.

If she truly possessed such power, Lan Lingyan decided he would commit a foolish act. He could convince himself to indulge this foolishness once more. He needed to confirm whether the sensation he felt upon encountering her earlier was merely an illusion. If it was, then he would discard the matter without further consideration.

Hesitation was never part of his nature. Confronting problems, not evading them, had always been Lan Lingyan's modus operandi. Running away only bred more trouble; it was better to resolve the issue directly. Like treating a wound: an infected one hurts terribly, and squeezing out the pus is difficult, but ignoring it leads to far worse consequences. Lan Lingyan always knew which method was superior.

He was a man who was ruthless to others, but equally ruthless to himself.

It was the dead of night, yet many scientific madmen still toiled frantically in the laboratory, existing almost without the concept of day or night—only the availability of energy mattered. Ning Yunhuan had lost her utility; though a slight pity, the geniuses had diverted their attention. They were all immersed in their work, offering Lan Lingyan only a brief salute before returning to their experiments. No one remained by her side; only two lights shone overhead, and the indicator on the central computer managing her vitals glowed green, confirming she had not completely ceased to exist.

In that isolated corner, the nutrient tank emanated a chilling quality, yet she remained with her eyes closed, seemingly undisturbed by the mistreatment she endured. Lan Lingyan suddenly felt a flicker of irritation. This time, he did not restrain himself. He was absolutely safe here, so no security detail accompanied him. Following his impulse, he reached out, touching her ice-cold forehead. Because her body required freezing to prolong her life, her skin felt like polished ice. The delicate texture beneath his hand made Lan Lingyan linger.

Her eyelashes fluttered slightly. Lan Lingyan held his breath for a moment, sensing she might awaken. He felt a surge of anticipation, wanting to see her eyes open, yet the thought of her seeing him in this state upon waking brought a sudden, inexplicable displeasure.

Still, he remained seated, watching her long, curled lashes tremble twice. Then, those eyes, seemingly locked in slumber, finally opened. In that instant, Lan Lingyan knew he was lost.

Ning Yunhuan's pupils lacked focus, and the light in her eyes had dimmed, revealing a subtle, dull cast. They were dark, tinged with the characteristic brown of Chinese features. Because her skin was so pale, almost transparent, the opening of her eyes possessed an ephemeral beauty. He could almost imagine the vibrant woman she used to be, picturing how her elliptical eyes would curve into lovely crescents when she smiled. Seeing her open them, Lan Lingyan instantly recognized this as something he wanted to possess, to collect.

“Ning Yunhuan?” he whispered. In the adjacent laboratory rooms, the white-coated scientists were so frantically engaged they barely had time to push up their glasses. Here, however, an eerie quiet reigned. Through the transparent barrier, Lan Lingyan’s peripheral vision caught the sight of the others working as if possessed. His gaze remained fixed on the woman who could no longer truly be called alive. His time was precious, yet he wasted it on this discarded specimen. The most frustrating part was that he had no immediate intention of stopping.

She offered no response to Lan Lingyan. He didn't know the sound of her voice, and his mind was already creating its own imagery. Impatiently, Lan Lingyan wanted to grasp something, yet he could do absolutely nothing.

She merely stared with large, vacant eyes, her pale, transparent lips parted as if a fish suffocating without water, yet she drew in no air. Her abdomen had long been opened, her organs replaced by machinery. She absorbed only nutrient fluid, which circulated to sustain her life without producing waste for excretion.

“Ning Yunhuan,” Lan Lingyan called, his voice growing smoother, but his impatience escalating. He spoke her name, yet received no echo. He disliked this feeling intensely.

A dangerous storm gathered in Lan Lingyan’s eyes, the strange emotions within his slender phoenix eyes growing darker. Seeing her mouth open but unable to breathe, he suddenly bent down. The short strands of his fringe brushed her cheek as his warm lips met her cool, delicate ones. He stroked her mouth gently. With his movement, air was transferred from his lungs to hers, but she remained completely unresponsive, only absorbing a trace of his essence through the brief contact.

The scientific crazies outside the lab watched his actions through the glass in astonishment, each forgetting the tasks in their hands. Lan Lingyan knew they must think him insane.

Indeed, he was insane!

He loved seeing Ning Yunhuan’s eyes open, although the duration of her openness was rapidly decreasing. Recently, with his frequent visits, Ning Yunhuan had been removed from the nutrient bath. Her body had been surgically repaired; for her life support, she temporarily could not be disconnected from the tubes and machinery, much to her implied displeasure.

Lan Lingyan knew she wouldn't like it. He began collecting photographs of Ning Yunhuan, then old videos. From the moment he first obtained footage of her, Lan Lingyan heard her voice, and from then on, he was bewitched, utterly beyond self-control. The scientists in the lab began cultivating a heart perfectly suited for her. While resurrecting a person teetering on the brink of death was no simple feat, and while Lan Lingyan was perhaps already mad, for these scientists, nothing compared to such an experiment. Lan Lingyan spared no expense, pouring vast sums into the laboratory, setting these madmen to their work.

From initial groping attempts to cultivating perfect hearts, livers, and lungs, Lan Lingyan felt an odd wave of dissatisfaction. During this period, he accomplished much. This Ning Yunhuan had been handed to him by a woman named Gu. He was deeply displeased that Gu hadn't delivered her sooner, causing him to miss so much precious time. His mood soured further when Lan Father began intruding on his rare moments with her. Lan Lingyan decided to deal with his father first; then, no one could buzz around him like an annoying fly.

He spent half a year orchestrating a trap using his mother, Lin Min, to ensnare his father. Lan Father was overconfident, believing Lan Lingyan remained under his control, weary from constantly fending off assassins sent by his son, and assuming Lan Lingyan lacked the strength to strike back. This complacency cost Lan Father the use of his legs, leaving him confined to a wheelchair.

The head of the Lan family could not be a mere cripple. Lan Father was ruined. Although Lan Lingyan spared his life, his inability to walk meant the chairmanship naturally fell to Lan Lingyan. He shipped his parents off to a deserted island, arranging only for periodic airdrops of food, with no means of contact provided for their self-destruction.

After neutralizing his parents, he focused entirely on Ning Yunhuan. Professor Raymond informed him that the most suitable organs had been successfully engineered. The professor was ecstatic: her will to live was incredibly strong, and the new heart was already placed in her body and beginning to generate blood—a monumental breakthrough. Lan Lingyan visited; a touch of color had returned to her cheeks, and she was disconnected from the central master computer. She could manage faint breaths now; the respiratory system was the first part completed.

A faint blush colored her cheeks, her lips no longer translucent—everything was trending toward a successful revival. Only the final step remained before she would be brought back to life.

This experiment electrified the entire laboratory personnel; it was the collective pride of these geniuses, who felt like gods having created a person anew!

But Lan Lingyan was not happy. She was coming back to life, and he already cared for her—whether it was love or mere possession, he cherished her past self, not the woman who might awaken with all memories erased, the one Professor Raymond called a newborn.

Even if she retained her old memories, Lan Lingyan could not bear her hatred. If she hated him, he would rather she were dead!

He sent the woman named Gu to an island nation. Since she so craved men and could not live without them, he ensured she enjoyed her fill! Day and night, subjected to every conceivable flavor, Gu Yingxi’s body soon contracted HIV. Lan Lingyan delivered her to the very men who had once adored her, who now scrambled to distance themselves. He forced Ning Yuncheng into the laboratory, making him suffer every torment Ning Yunhuan had endured. As for Mu Jinzhi and the others, he repaid them in kind: Mu Jinzhi had confined his mother to a mental asylum, and Lan Lingyan imprisoned Mu Jinzhi using the same method.

With everything concluded, Gu Yingxi died tragically amidst the ruin of her body. Lan Lingyan had achieved everything, yet a profound sense of emptiness washed over him.

Ning Yunhuan’s body was gradually recovering. Professor Raymond said she was beginning to stir back to life; the time she kept her eyes open was increasing, her gaze growing brighter, the luster returning to her strands of hair, and a fleeting smile occasionally gracing her lips.

Lan Lingyan cherished this possibility, yet he could not allow it.

If, upon awakening, she was no longer the person she was, Lan Lingyan had no need for her continued existence. But if she was the person she used to be, she would surely hate him—she would never smile at him again, never look at him with those wide, guileless eyes, never be as endearingly cute as she was in the videos. If her living meant she would only despise or resent him, then he wished Ning Yunhuan would never wake up at all.

If hate was the outcome, he preferred her dead!

He personally extinguished the life force in the body the scientists were hailing as ‘newly born,’ watching as the ** that kept her corpse preserved began to engulf her. Lan Lingyan ignored the protests of Raymond and the others. They had successfully cloned vital organs and resurrected a dying person—such an achievement was enough to shock the world—but Lan Lingyan cared little for acclaim. He watched Ning Yunhuan’s breathing grow ragged, the color draining from her face. Amidst the regretful shakes of heads and sighs from the onlookers, her complexion gradually turned ashen, her eyes involuntarily widening. Lan Lingyan smiled as he watched his own reflection slowly vanish from her gaze.

After Ning Yunhuan’s death, the Lin family attempted to send a woman his way, but Lan Lingyan was not one to be manipulated. He had no heir and, for the time being, felt no woman was worthy of bearing his son. He cared nothing for the turmoil that might afflict the Lan family once he grew old; as long as he could suppress the ghouls and goblins stirring beneath the surface during his lifetime, he would not concern himself with a deluge after his passing.

For the remainder of his life, he poured his energy into the ethereal concept of a time machine. The mad scientists in the lab were galvanized by this proposition. Ning Yunhuan’s body was preserved perfectly, looking as fresh as the day she died. It was only after more than twenty years, when a team of scientists finally developed the machine hailed as capable of altering history, that Lan Lingyan considered its potential. Whether this temporal device would ever prove useful was irrelevant; he had driven himself mad for this pursuit his entire life, and now, everything would conclude.

He watched Ning Yunhuan’s body disappear from the platform, just like in previous experiments. Lan Lingyan laughed. He had been insane in this lifetime, but if events could truly be replayed, he swore that before anything had ever begun, he would seize hold of that thing—which he only recognized as love after years of obsession—and he would never, ever let her vanish again!

Though reluctant to admit it, he realized he had fallen in love with the girl who had never spoken a single word to him from beginning to end.

Farewell, my princess, my love! RS