Mr. Xian's eyes gleam behind his glasses. "Yunhua, I need a talent like you in this project. You've always been brilliant—your understanding of biological engineering, your instincts… they're rare. I want you to work with us. Use your knowledge, your intelligence—"
He leans forward.
"Help us not just cure disease… but create something beyond. A perfect serum. One that can make superhumans."
This is moment, I realize—they'd destroy something amazing, something innocent, something alive, just to make a powerful drug. And they'd proudly call it science, not murder.
I smile. Sweet. Polite.
"Oh, I'll do it," I say. "Gladly."
Right. I'll gladly help you butcher my alien boyfriend and turn him into bottled superhero juice for billionaires. Sure, why not. Let's all sell our souls while we're at it.
"Good," Mr. Xian says, clearly satisfied, already turning toward his computer. "I knew you'd see the bigger picture."
