There was a sharp cartoon perfectly illustrating the difference in thinking between a man and a woman when they embrace sweetly. In the cartoon, both minds contained a heart and an arrow, but the difference was that the woman's heart was upright, with the arrow piercing it diagonally through the center, whereas the man's heart was inverted, closely resembling a woman's buttocks, with the arrow entering near the V-notch of the heart shape...

Wang Zhuo and Fu Xinran were in a situation much like this.

Wooing a woman had to be a gradual process. Wang Zhuo, deeply understanding the adage that haste makes waste, knew that such matters couldn't be resolved overnight; they required a natural culmination. Exceptional cases like taking down Ning Yao or Ruan Mingqing were rare occurrences. To conquer a woman as resolute as Fu Xinran, he needed to take his time. Despite Fu Xinran's exterior, which made men want to seize her the moment they saw it, she was actually quite conservative at heart. Otherwise, she wouldn't have only had one relationship by the age of twenty-six, and even her kissing technique was clumsy. Wang Zhuo even suspected she had never experienced a deep, passionate kiss before. He couldn't help but silently scorn and thank Ji Guang; it seemed that a shut-in who only played video games had absolutely no future, not even comparable to the repressed homebody who masturbated with a box of tissues!

...

After mistranslating several sentences in a row, Fu Xinran realized her mind was in turmoil. She turned her head and saw Wang Zhuo still tinkering with his lab mice in the laboratory. His expression was calm and focused, as if nothing had happened moments before. She turned back with a bitter smile, staring blankly at the screen, wondering why the gap between men could be so vast. Ji Guang was a gentle scholar, uninterested in matters of the opposite sex. She had always considered him the model of a good man, but Wang Zhuo’s behavior had subverted her understanding. She realized that a man’s roughness, dominance, assertiveness, coupled with persistent attention and sweet talk, was far more vivid and flesh-and-blood than being merely proper. In direct comparison, Ji Guang seemed like a self-proclaimed sophisticated mannequin, affecting maturity in everything, which was merely posturing. Wang Zhuo, however, acted spontaneously, operating by his own rules—he only did what he believed was right, considering what others thought or saw as nothing more than a passing breeze, completely unbothered. Comparing them this way, Fu Xinran finally understood that Ji Guang was never the right match for her. Even without that pyramid scheme incident, the ideological gap between them would have surfaced quickly, leading to a split. Similarly, a lasting relationship with Wang Zhuo was also impossible—no woman could ever have him entirely to herself! How could she bridge the distance back to where they were before? Fu Xinran frowned slightly, contemplating this problem.

Wang Zhuo was reviewing the experiment logs. The bald, ugly little white mouse was thriving, seemingly having adapted well to life after losing its fur. It ate, slept, and was active and healthy. The other mice in its group had either died from an overdose of the agent or perished under Wang Zhuo’s dissection. Only this sole survivor remained. If Meng Shengdi hadn't joked about it casually, this monster might have been swept into the trash bin the next time he cleaned the workbench, annihilated inhumanely, because this failed experiment had already yielded a conclusion—just like Edison inventing the lightbulb: the wire filament couldn't work! Americans aimed to invent cardiovascular drugs but ended up creating Viagra for erectile dysfunction; Newton merely wanted to take a nap but was inspired by an apple to formulate the Law of Universal Gravitation. Scientific research is full of accidental discoveries, moments of serendipity, and unintended breakthroughs. “Maybe this rat could actually lead to a hair removal invention.”

He worked happily, treating it like a small, casual game. He pulled up the mouse's relevant file, remixed the exact same dosage, and then asked Meng Shengnan to bring over a new set of mice, handing the agent to her for individual injection. “Be careful not to prick your hand,” he joked casually, “See that monster? If you prick yourself, you’ll end up looking like it.” With strict safety protocols in place, accidents like pricking a hand were impossible. Meng Shengnan gave him a bright smile; her movements were steady and practiced, perhaps not even inferior to researchers with over a decade of lab experience. Wang Zhuo watched her operation approvingly and said, half-jokingly and half-seriously, “Come work for me as an assistant when you graduate. With your skill at handling rodents, you won't have trouble finding a job anywhere.” The girl’s eyes immediately lit up with excitement: “Okay, but that’s still years away. Can you wait that long?” “It won’t take that long!” Wang Zhuo waved his hand dismissively. “Interning here is more useful than college. You can start right after high school graduation.” “Really?” Meng Shengnan was overjoyed. Wang Zhuo chuckled, “Of course, it’s true. Would you rather memorize Mao’s writings and Deng’s theories?” Political tests were the bane of Meng Shengnan’s existence, second only to algebra and geometry. Forcing a simple girl from the deep mountains to learn such things was indeed asking too much. Having secured Wang Zhuo’s promise, Meng Shengnan happily ran off to share the good news with her sister! “What an innocent girl,” Wang Zhuo smiled knowingly, watching her cheerful retreat after finishing the injections on the last remaining mouse and placing it in the observation cage.

...

Finally, a cooling, steady rain fell, bringing a trace of relief to the furnace-like city. Wang Zhuo finished his morning run in the park and had just reached a newsstand when his cell phone vibrated urgently in his pocket. “Moshi moshi?” He activated his Bluetooth headset and cheerfully greeted Gan Lin, who was calling, in Japanese. “Are you working out?” Gan Lin said breathlessly. “Hurry and find a newsstand, buy today’s morning paper—there’s major news about us!” “I’m already at a newsstand,” Wang Zhuo asked in surprise. “Is it the Jiangzhou Morning Post? Which section?” Gan Lin replied, “It’s on the second page—a joint statement from several distilleries. Buy a copy and see for yourself first!” Wang Zhuo was a regular at this stand. He handed over a one-yuan coin, and the owner swiftly presented him with today’s Jiangzhou Morning Post, Finance Express, and Social Herald—a heavy bundle. He pulled out the first page of the morning paper, tucked the rest into the elastic band of his athletic shorts, and walked toward home without any regard for his appearance, reading the paper while simultaneously picking up some street breakfast.

Joint Statement from Six Liquor Enterprises Regarding Wangchao Wuliang

More than half of the second page was dedicated to this joint declaration. Led by Qifeng Distillery, the six Baijiu companies questioned the chemical composition of Wangchao Wuliang, asserting that consuming this substance before drinking their products could cause unknown effects on the body. Therefore, they issued this statement saying that if a customer experiences health issues after drinking their product following consumption of Wangchao Wuliang, the manufacturer would not be held responsible. Below the statement were interviews with experts and laboratory testing reports. However, the experts' wording was filled with uncertain terms like "possibly," "perhaps," "should," and "approximately," lacking any professionalism. The lab results stated that no harmful components were found, but several suspicious ingredients still required further analysis! “Isn’t this nonsense?” After a quick scan, Wang Zhuo was so exasperated he almost laughed. “Who has nothing better to do than cook this up? Are their brains waterlogged?” “There’s definitely something fishy going on,” Gan Lin analyzed seriously. “Think about it; once this statement is out, it will definitely affect our sales. I think the real goal of the person behind this is to hit our sales figures. This statement is entirely designed to mislead consumers.” “But why would they do that?” Wang Zhuo countered. “Even if our sales drop, there’s no profit for the person behind it. I don't believe this was done by a competitor; there’s no such product on the market!” Gan Lin paused thoughtfully. “What you said makes sense. From a profit standpoint, damaging Wangchao Wuliang doesn't benefit the instigator. But have you considered if it might be someone who holds a grudge against us causing trouble?” “Causing trouble behind the scenes…” Wang Zhuo frowned, and a rapid succession of enemy names flashed through his mind: Hui Hai, Jingtianhui, Ma Qiang—they all flickered like a revolving lantern, even minor players like Shen Feng were included in the list of suspects for investigation. “It seems I have quite a few enemies,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ll go home and eat breakfast first, then I’ll study this carefully.” Gan Lin agreed readily. “Alright, then I’ll come over to your place!” This inexplicable incident had indeed affected Wang Zhuo’s appetite. After returning home, he ate his breakfast distractedly while writing names on a notepad. Fortunately, there weren't many heavyweight adversaries. He soon placed Ma Qiang as a primary suspect. Erasing the less significant names, he pondered for a moment and then wrote down Qin Siqing’s name as well. While he was deep in thought, Gan Lin arrived. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap top and capri jeans today, with several large rips on the cuffs vaguely revealing the white skin beneath. Her fitted top clung to her, and her ample bust was startling. Normally, she would have worn a light cardigan outside to maintain a low profile, but today’s sudden emergency and hasty departure meant she came out in this attire. Wang Zhuo’s eyes lit up. He stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace, chuckling, “Baby, how many men crashed into lampposts on the road because of you today?” “There’s such a huge problem, and you still have time for jokes?” Gan Lin rebuked him playfully, pressing down his hand which was wandering under the hem of her top. “I’m suffocating; how long has it been since we’ve been intimate?” Wang Zhuo playfully batted her hand away and slid both hands inside. “I’m touching myself, it doesn’t stop us from talking business.” It had indeed been a week since he was affectionate with Gan Lin, but whether he had been intimate with other women during that week was known only to him.