Humanity is a truly marvelous species, the sheer divergence in individual differences and modes of existence is breathtaking. After thoroughly examining Cai Yuantu’s body, Wang Zhuo really couldn't find any area showing signs of lesion or other symptoms—other than being somewhat overweight and large in stature, there was nothing particularly unusual.

As for the lung shadows caused by smoking and the impact of alcoholism on the liver, these were hardly worth mentioning; many men of this age group have the same conditions, essentially normal and not considered sickness. “What?” Seeing Wang Zhuo staring intently at his large belly, Cai Yuantu chuckled, “Interested in my gut?” Wang Zhuo grinned slyly and said, “If you shaved your head, you wouldn't need any props to play the Maitreya Buddha!” The Old Tang Ramen was served just then, wafting a rich fragrance.

The large bowl floated a thick layer of grease, sprinkled with some chopped seasonings on top, instantly whetting the appetite just by looking at it. Wang Zhuo used his spoon to push aside the oily flowers, discarding the calories before tasting a mouthful contentedly.

Gan Shuang, however, frowned slightly, carefully scooping the top layer of oil out, spoonful by spoonful. Women are inherently image-conscious; excess fat is something they dread, and Gan Shuang was certainly no exception.

So, no matter how savory or delicious that layer of oil was, she politely refused it. “Oh, my dear sister.” Seeing her skimming off the oil, Cai Yuantu felt it was a great pity.

He couldn’t help but say, “That oil on the noodles is the best part! You’re throwing away the essence—you won’t get that original flavor!” Gan Shuang smiled at him and replied, “I can’t help it if it’s delicious; I’m afraid of getting fat.” “You aren’t fat at all!

A little bit of this oil won’t matter!” Cai Yuantu said earnestly, “Trust me, just eat it without worry.” Gan Shuang smiled and shook her head, eventually leaving a small pool of the oil film before finally starting to eat her noodles. The conversation between the two stirred something in Wang Zhuo’s mind.

While eating, he kept a close watch on the restaurant patrons. He had studied the digestion and absorption of fats back in school, knowing the pathways and formation methods of body fat.

It was due to differences in individual physiology and lifestyle habits that people varied so much between being slim and stout. His earlier research into the hangover cure had been his first venture applying the Clairvoyant Eye to medicine, and the results were unexpectedly excellent.

He had anticipated a lengthy research period, but the more he used it, the more proficient and adept he became—completing the project in just a few short months. Although there would be much follow-up work after the anti-intoxication beverage was released, the foundation had been laid, and the rest wouldn't be a major hurdle.

This gave Wang Zhuo a sense of complete self-assurance. Now, the sudden thought of fat accumulation sparked a bold notion in his mind: cracking the obesity code!

Wang Zhuo knew that to thoroughly solve the problem of obesity, a three-pronged approach was needed: reducing absorption, inhibiting generation, and breaking down existing fat. This was one of the top challenges facing human medicine.

If he could conquer this puzzle, accolades like the Nobel Prize or the Royal Order of Merit would be within easy reach! Having arranged to have dinner with Cai Yuantu, Wang Zhuo drove Gan Shuang home afterward.

On the way, he was entirely preoccupied with thoughts concerning ‘fat,’ so much so that Gan Shuang, feeling somewhat neglected, asked him twice if something was troubling him. “What’s your weight right now?” As the car pulled into the complex, Wang Zhuo suddenly asked the unrelated question.

Gan Shuang was startled. “Why the sudden question?” “Just curious,” Wang Zhuo chuckled.

“Maybe around 105 [jin]?” Gan Shuang said with a wry smile. “It’s all your fault; you’re practically turning me into a little piggy.” “Only 105?

Just maintain that weight,” Wang Zhuo’s smile carried a hint of sultriness. “As long as you don’t get a pot belly, we’re fine.

If we can’t buy the right bra, we’ll have one custom-made!” Gan Shuang was caught between laughter and tears. With an extra pound, Asian women’s busts aren't as prominent as their European counterparts, so her size was genuinely hard to match with a satisfactory bra.

The one she was wearing now had been custom-made for her by Qi Fei from Hong Kong. With her weight increasing towards winter, it was becoming too tight again!

She placed a hand over her chest and murmured somewhat awkwardly, “Everyone else gains weight in their stomach, why is mine accumulating right here…” Wang Zhuo shook his head speechlessly and laughed, “Now that’s a happy problem.” The car reached the garage entrance, only to be blocked by a black Audi. The car was positioned perfectly between the two garage doors, obstructing Wang Zhuo from entering either one.

“It looks like a government plate,” Gan Shuang said, recognizing it immediately as she had some knowledge of the local license plate series. Wang Zhuo frowned, sizing up the black Audi A6.

Logically, an Audi A6 was a vehicle reserved for officials at the vice-provincial level or above. Even the Municipal Party Secretary in this city was only at the department-director level, meaning this car exceeded the authorized allocation standard for civil servants.

However, given that there were current examples in the smaller county towns where secretaries misappropriated poverty alleviation funds to buy Audi A6s, it wasn't unheard of to see a bureau-level cadre driving a beast like this in a third-tier city. There used to be a saying: 'If the people don't report it, the officials won't investigate.' Nowadays, it was even less necessary; everyone knew that if you pointed fingers too often, you’d end up labeled mentally ill—better to just pretend not to see it!

Judging by the tire tracks on the ground, the car hadn't been parked here long, probably less than an hour. Wang Zhuo used his Clairvoyant Eye and noted that the heat signature inside the vehicle hadn't completely dissipated.

“What should we do? Should we call property management?” Gan Shuang asked.

“Let’s wait a moment,” Wang Zhuo pouted and honked the horn. He continued to honk intermittently for several minutes with no response.

However, two patrolling security guards heard the commotion and came over to Wang Zhuo’s car. Rolling down the window, Wang Zhuo asked them, “Whose car is this?” The two guards didn't recognize Wang Zhuo, but they had already heard the fame of his champagne-colored Audi, knowing it belonged to the richest mogul residing in the complex for brief stays.

Thus, they recognized Wang Zhuo’s status based on the car. The taller guard spoke politely, “This is Director Zheng’s official vehicle.

It’s blocking your garage, isn’t it? I’ll contact him for you right away.” “Director Zheng?” Wang Zhuo sounded slightly surprised, suddenly recalling that someone named Zheng was indeed a director.

He casually asked, “Is it Zheng Mingshun from the Finance Bureau?” The guard nodded vigorously like a pecking chicken, “Yes, yes, yes—you know him?” “No, I don’t,” Wang Zhuo chuckled darkly, then said to the guard, “Please, help me contact him!” The guard didn't think much of it and immediately took out his walkie-talkie, asking his colleague on duty to call Zheng Mingshun’s home to report the situation. Taking advantage of the delay, Gan Shuang asked, “You know the owner of this car?” Wang Zhuo scoffed, “The owner is the entire nation, but I happen to know the public servant using it.” Knowing rather than knowing indicated Wang Zhuo’s attitude.

Gan Shuang became curious and pressed further, “You seem to have some strong feelings about this public servant?” “Of course, I do,” Wang Zhuo raised an eyebrow and pointed at the offending Audi A6 blocking the way. “He’s causing trouble for my normal life, so naturally, I have opinions about him.” By this time, someone from the property management office had been notified, and a call was placed to Director Zheng’s residence.

“It’s blocking his garage?” The Director’s wife, receiving the call, frowned slightly, then replied coolly, “Didn’t he buy up all the independent garages in his section? He has so many empty ones; why can’t he just park in one of those and leave?

Why must I move the car?” What she called ‘buying up all the independent garages’ was actually that Wang Zhuo had purchased the remaining ones after many had already been sold when the complex first opened. Although this action was reasonable and legal, other owners who wanted independent garages would certainly complain if they heard about it.

In fact, Director Zheng’s family was different from the other owners; they already possessed their own independent garage, which housed their son’s Toyota. The Director and his wife had official vehicles from work, so why would they buy another car?

“Mr. Wang said all his other garages are full, and only these two are left empty,” the property management staff explained.

“Rich, so rich,” the Director’s wife sneered, letting out a cold huff. “Tell him to wait a bit; we’ll come down to move the car later!” The message was quickly relayed back to Wang Zhuo.

He scanned the nearby buildings and asked the guard, “When did Director Zheng move into this complex? Which building does he live in?” “Building C, Unit Nine,” the guard replied.

“They were among the first batch of owners here, but their renovation took a long time after taking possession, so they only moved in around the Lunar New Year last year.” “Oh…” Wang Zhuo nodded slowly. So Zheng Mingshun had become an owner here even earlier than him, just hadn't moved in until later—no wonder he hadn't known.

Gan Shuang interjected with surprise, “Unit Nine? Aren’t you in Unit Eight?

They are both in Building C.” “What a coincidence,” Wang Zhuo smiled meaningfully, his gaze tilting slightly upward, piercing through the car roof and the dim evening sky, easily locating Director Zheng’s residence, peering inside. Director Zheng Mingshun was on the phone in his study, his facial expressions extremely animated—alternately smiling coyly and darting his eyes around, seemingly flirting with a woman.

Meanwhile, the Director’s wife sat comfortably on the sofa, munching on snacks and flipping through a magazine, looking entirely relaxed and unhurried. Besides the two of them, there was a woman resembling a housekeeper busy moving between the kitchen and the bathroom—washing clothes while cooking.

There was no fourth person in the house. Wang Zhuo instantly became furious.

The Zheng residence was only on the fifth floor, very close by. They could have heard him honking the horn earlier, yet no one came downstairs to move the car.

Furthermore, after receiving the notice from property management, they verbally agreed but were deliberately delaying—this was utterly unacceptable!