At a grand academic conference, I publicly released the laboratory security footage showing my fiancé and his female student. The passionate scenes played out, sending the entire hall into an uproar. A week ago, while lurking on an obscure overseas academic forum, I came across an advice-seeking post: [My professor keeps holding me while we do experiments. Is this normal?] Someone commented below: [What kind of experiments?] She replied: [He guides my hand to use the micropipette, hugging me from behind. His body is so hot I can't even align the pipette tip with the well plate...] Someone immediately responded: [That's a bit beyond the scope of normal instruction.] She was quick to defend him: [But he said I'm the most special student he's ever mentored, not like that block of wood who only knows how to study and has no romance in her.] [His fiancée is also in research. All she cares about are data and papers; she has zero sex appeal. He's been sick of her for a long time. He said that only when he's with me does he feel truly alive.] The post included a blurry profile picture. The cuff of the man's lab coat revealed a silver wristwatch with a tiny scratch on the edge of the dial. It was exactly the same as the one I gave Arthur Vance. 1 He scratched it while setting up the lab, moving equipment himself. At the time, he laughed, ruffled my hair, and said that even with a mark, it was still his favorite watch, our exclusive memento. Even more glaring was the chromatography machine in the background of the picture. The side of the machine still bore the engraved initials of our names. Back then, I traveled to nine different countries just to finalize the model. It was the only one of its kind in the country, my engagement gift to him, which I personally carried to his dedicated lab bench. My blood froze, and even breathing became difficult. Arthur had truly betrayed me. But years ago, I was also his student. With trembling fingers, I refreshed the post. Many netizens were expressing their doubts: [Are you actually seeking advice, or just bragging about your affair with your professor?] She immediately retorted: [What affair? The professor and I have a mutual appreciation for each other. He arranged for me to be in the lab, right under his fiancée's nose. He even gave me the Chief Scientific Officer's debut project, helped me publish it, and paved the way for me.] Someone cursed below: [I hate abuse of power the most. And this isn't called 'taking', it's stealing! Does what you're doing do justice to that Chief Scientist?] She replied: [What's there to be sorry about? The professor just loves me more. He needs an understanding flower like me, not a cold, research machine.] Every word was like a poisoned needle plunging straight into my heart. Ten days ago, I received an instruction from Arthur: "Your proposal and experimental approach have already been published by someone else. You need to dig up a new one." Always the same excuse. I was deceived by him time and time again. I never thought he was taking my blood, sweat, and tears—my experimental project—to use as a stepping stone for the other woman. He used to be the one who followed the rules the most, exuding an aloof and ascetic aura. People in the industry said he was as pure as the purified water in the lab. When I was still his student, he would intentionally maintain an arm's length distance when discussing experimental data with me. When teaching me how to use a micropipette, he merely steadied my wrist, and his ears turned bright red. He had also said I was his most special and outstanding student. After we secretly developed feelings for each other, he was terrified of people gossiping about me. So, he waited until I graduated, until I stood at a height equal to his, before he dared to hold my hand openly. That restrained tenderness and innate righteousness once made me fall deeply for him. The day he proposed, he said that researchers value sincerity and perseverance above all else, and his sincerity and perseverance were reserved solely for me. Now, looking at the diamond ring on my ring finger, and then at the bodies intimately intertwined in the post's photo, a cold chill ran down my spine. The words and vows he once spoke had turned into cheap, vulgar pickup lines for his female student. My dedication and persistence to research, which he once treated as a precious treasure, had become what he called an "unromantic block of wood." It wasn't until the photos in the post refreshed, and the image of Arthur lowering his head to bite her earlobe suddenly struck my eyes. I couldn't bear it any longer. My stomach churned, and I vomited until my internal organs ached. But the fiercer the curses in the post got, the more smug and arrogant she became: [I won't say any more. The professor's fiancée is sick, and he's afraid of catching it and passing it to me, so he specifically took me abroad to relax.] And this morning, before Arthur left, he held my sickly self in his arms, his tone gentle and heartbroken: "While I'm abroad attending the seminar, I'll definitely help you find some new experimental ideas. You stay home and rest like a good girl. Don't overwork yourself; it makes my heart ache." He knew perfectly well that this was my last year for a title promotion. Yet he cruelly stole my experimental proposal and gave it to someone else. I was forced to work day and night, racing against time to polish a new project before the end of the year, ruining my health in the process. When I dropped him off at the airport, I was still wiping away tears of guilt, blaming myself for being too sick to accompany him and making him worry and work so hard for my sake alone. I never expected that not only would he stab me in the back, but he would also take his lover on a romantic getaway abroad during my most difficult time. Ring— My phone suddenly rang. It was Arthur. Whenever he traveled, he always called me the moment he landed to let me know he was safe. On the other end of the line, his voice was full of concern: "Chloe, why is your voice so hoarse? Have you not been resting and taking your medicine again?" Seeing that I didn't reply, he seemed to have made a major decision: "I've thought about it. Even if you can't come up with a new experimental project, I'll use my connections to guarantee your promotion this time." Hah, the illustrious Professor Vance is really willing to pay a high price for me. But how could he not know that if he really did that, I would be forever nailed to the pillar of shame as someone who got in through the back door and had no real talent? "Arthur, didn't you say you didn't want my talent to be obscured, and even more so, didn't want me to be gossiped about..." He sighed softly and interrupted me, his tone incredibly sincere: "But I can't just watch the person I love most struggle. Besides, in my heart, you are the best. Even if people say I'm abusing my power, I accept it!" He spoke with such genuine emotion, but my heart sank inch by inch. A moment later, a soft, coquettish female voice faintly echoed from the other end of the line. I gripped my phone tightly and asked in a low voice: "Who's outside your door?" He caught off guard, gave a light cough, hiding his panic: "It's room service. I asked them to bring some paper and pens." "Alright baby, you must take good care of yourself. There are pastries I bought for you in the fridge. Even if you don't have an appetite, try to eat a little." It seemed that his eagerness to report in every time he landed at a hotel wasn't out of thoughtfulness, but merely out of fear that I would randomly check up on him and ruin the good time he was having with his lover. Five years of being together day and night, my wholehearted devotion, had ultimately turned out to be a massive joke. Late that night, I reopened that post. She had updated her status again: [The aloof flower has finally been pulled down from his pedestal by me. In life, he remembers my tastes; in academics, he guides me hand-in-hand to publish papers. Being with him now is just a natural progression. He said tonight was his most unforgettable night.] I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and closed the post. Suppressing my churning emotions, I opened the fridge. The pastries inside were completely covered in crushed peanuts. And I am allergic to peanuts. The daily logs in that post recorded Arthur's attentiveness to her; he searched several streets just to buy her peanut rice cakes. These pastries were what that female student loved to eat, not me. In the end, I still sent a message to Arthur: [Arthur, are you really going to use public office for private gain like this?] He thought I was talking about the promotion and replied earnestly: [Chloe, who in the industry doesn't know you're my fiancée? Even if I do nothing, it's inevitable that people will gossip when you get the promotion. It's better if I actually pull some strings for you, at least you get a tangible benefit out of it.] Yes, even if he did nothing, and I reached the top of the industry step by step through my own efforts, taking the position of Chief Scientific Officer, people would still view me through colored lenses. Just like how he and I only confirmed our relationship after I graduated, but we were still reported by someone with ulterior motives. They claimed I had an improper relationship with my professor while I was in school. The criticism online was so harsh that it became unbearable to read. Over the years, to break free from these shackles, I threw myself into the lab. Working day and night for results and research, I was finally recognized by everyone and recommended as the Chief Scientific Officer of the research institute. He saw all of this; the countless late nights I endured to earn my dignity and confidence bit by bit. And now, he just said it so lightly, crushing everything I fought so hard to protect. The person who once faced layers of investigations from the university, the disciplinary committee, and the petition office for me, yet remained uncompromising in defending me. The person who would rather give up an easily attainable fellowship title than agree to break up with me, no longer existed. All that was left was a sickening and sleazy shell. My computer screen popped up an email notification once again. It was an offer letter from the largest overseas research institute. They kept raising the salary and benefits just to poach me for their core lab. But all I wanted was to stay by Arthur's side. When Vance Labs was first founded, it relied on the projects I had in hand. In five years, it went from a three-person workspace to being listed on the tech board. His most frequent phrase was: "Chloe, my eyes didn't deceive me. You truly are the most outstanding, and the greatest contributor to Vance Labs." Yet he secretly squeezed a female student into the lab, flirted under the guise of conducting experiments, and climbed up by stealing my projects. Those security camera malfunctions that happened at just the right times, and how my experimental concepts always seemed to lag one step behind. All the suspicions now had the most sordid answers. I dragged my sick body to the research institute, only wanting to copy back my original data. But I was stopped at the door of his office area. The secretary stammered: "C... Chief Chloe, this office area is managed by Mr. Vance's graduate student, Ms. Mia Harper." It was utterly ridiculous. I couldn't even enter the office area of the research lab I built from scratch. Unable to bear it any longer, I sent a message to Arthur: [Maybe you should just get a new fiancée. That Ms. Harper by your side seems very suitable.] The message sank like a stone in the ocean, and the calls went unanswered. The gazes of the colleagues around the cubicles were full of probing and sympathy. The bitterness welling up in my heart was wrapped in a chill that seeped straight into my bones. Finally, I received a provocative message from Mia: [It seems Chief Chloe has a premonition that she's about to become an abandoned wife? Professor Vance is taking a shower, and I have his phone. He has no time for you.] [Oh right, he said you're nothing noble either, just a slut who seduced her professor while still in school.] [I'm not like you. The professor pursued me actively. He said he didn't know what uncontrollable love meant until he met me.] A dull pain struck my chest. I coughed violently, and tears fell uncontrollably. Back then, the overwhelming rumors nearly broke me. It was Arthur who held me tightly, guarding and encouraging me day and night. Now, not only did he plunge the knife into my deepest wound, but he also gave the authority to an outsider who had usurped the nest. This was a thorough calculation and defense against me, and an extreme humiliation. I stumbled home to a cold, empty house, never to feel its former warmth again. It wasn't until the middle of the night that his call finally came. "Chloe, why didn't you contact me at all today? I'm feeling a bit disappointed." His tone was sugar-coated, but it only sounded absurd to me. He didn't even know Mia had texted me using his phone. My voice was exhausted: "I sent you messages and called you; you just didn't see them." He paused, then laughed awkwardly: "I must have been too busy today and missed them. But I do have some good news to share with you." "The graduate student I'm mentoring this time has your style from back then. She spoke eloquently at the seminar, and she's exactly the person who proposed the same experimental concept as you." "I plan to make her the Chief Scientific Officer of Vance Labs, and you can be her deputy. This way, you two can complement each other, and she can leave your name as a co-author on the project. With my maneuvering, your promotion this time shouldn't be a big problem." "Chloe, are you listening? You really have to thank her this time. Her name is Mia Harper. It is the fortune of my life to have you two as my beloved students..." It's his fortune, but my disaster. His shamelessness angered me. I gritted my teeth and asked: "Arthur, what if I don't agree?" He gave an impatient "tch" on the other end of the line. "Stop being stubborn. Besides, the position of Chief Scientific Officer belongs to the capable. You can't even squeeze out a single project right now, so why humiliate yourself?" I stood on the balcony, letting the cold wind blow over me, reflecting on my contributions to Vance Labs over the years. Every big and small item in the lab, from a small beaker to every instrument, was set up by my own hands. When I worked around the clock to rush projects, I was once so exhausted I was hospitalized for recovery. I poured my heart and soul into it, staying up countless days and nights to lift the lab to the top of the industry. Only to quietly become someone else's stepping stone. I wiped the tears from my face. I took out my phone, opened that offer letter, and replied accepting the position. A few days later, Arthur finally returned to the country. The first thing he did was eagerly drag Mia to the lab bench for some thrills. Meanwhile, the power outlet of that chromatography machine was flashing a nearly imperceptible red light. I watched the monitor in my hand, found the right moment, and pushed the door open. Arthur's face changed, and he immediately shoved Mia away. I handed him the documents as if nothing had happened: "The progress of the previous project needs your signature." He felt guilty, and seeing it was a routine document, he signed it without even looking. Resignation letter, done. I turned to leave. Arthur hurriedly called out to me, walking slowly over with a concerned tone: "Look how thin you've gotten. Didn't I tell you to take time off and rest well at home?" "I heard about you going to my office area. It's Mia being immature; she forgot to give you access." I smiled indifferently: "If she's that immature and you still keep her around, it really must take a lot of your effort." Just as I was about to leave, I was stopped by Mia again. "Chief Chloe, stop being so passive-aggressive. I was just worried about ungrateful backstabbers in the company..." "Shut up!" Arthur violently pulled her away, placed his hands on my shoulders, and said with utmost sincerity: "Chloe, don't listen to her nonsense. You are my fiancée, the person I value most." I curled my lips, only finding it laughable. Arthur continued: "At the 13th Scientific Academic Exchange Conference this time, I decided to personally announce Mia Harper as the Chief Scientific Officer of Vance." "This is the only way to establish her authority in the institute, to make it easier to manage the team. But don't worry, I'll have you co-lead that key project with her." I raised my eyes and cast a cold glance at him. "Fine, you arrange it then." It was the first time Arthur had seen me look at him with such an expression. He panicked and tried to make amends: "That day is also our fifth anniversary. Once the exchange conference is over, we'll go get our marriage certificate!" My footsteps halted. He thought I was overwhelmingly surprised and stepped forward to pull me tightly into his embrace. With a face full of deep affection: "Chloe, from now on, entrust your life to me. I will definitely love you even more." The fresh scent on the man was still the cologne I had personally blended. But it couldn't cover the cloying sweetness mixed in from another woman. I frowned and tried to push him away, but he hugged me tighter: "From now on, we'll share three meals a day and grow old together." This had once been my dearest wish. Now I'm only thankful that I finally saw his true colors. After returning to my own office, I turned on the monitor. In the lab, Mia buried herself in Arthur's embrace again, but he dodged her. "Mia, from now on, you are not allowed to run your mouth at Chloe. She will be my wife. She absolutely cannot know about what's between us. That is a principle." Mia immediately shed tears of grievance: "Professor, she clearly gave me attitude the moment she walked into the office. She hates me. If she finds out that the Gene Vector Construction project was originally hers, she'll definitely kick me out." "When that happens, I'll leave you and go far away." Arthur hugged her back tenderly, his tone doting: "Don't talk nonsense. If you leave, who will be the Chief Scientific Officer of my research institute?" Mia sniffled: "But what if she discovers we plagiarized her experimental project?" Arthur's voice was certain: "Don't worry, I made it watertight. I even packaged her original documents for you." Mia rejoiced secretly: "I heard there are other teams constantly trying to poach her. We definitely can't let her take any projects away when the time comes." Arthur scoffed and nodded: "She is utterly devoted to me and won't leave me. Besides, who in the industry doesn't know she slept her way to her accomplishments? Now she even has to rely on my backroom deals for her promotion. Once those teams know, none of them will accept her." After listening to their conspiracy, I gritted my teeth to calm myself down. So he knew clearly what kind of predicament I was facing. He knew that the academic witch hunt against me all those years ago had never stopped. My eyes stung, and the last shred of expectation I had for him vanished into thin air. Mia's post also updated at this moment: [Soon I will become a rising academic star in the industry, and I have prepared a grand gift for my future mentor's wife at the academic exchange conference. I'm really looking forward to that day.] I was looking forward to it too. I hoped she could still be this brazen on that day. The grand academic exchange conference took place as scheduled. I stood beside them like a prop, watching Arthur lead Mia around, just as he had led me back then, introducing her talent to various industry heavyweights and major investors. However, as more heavyweight figures arrived, the academic elites raising their glasses to me also increased. Mia walked over to my side and disdainfully bumped my shoulder: "You don't have much time left in the spotlight. I've prepared the main event for you." As soon as the words fell, a large group of reporters swarmed in. They instantly surrounded me, and sharp questions were thrown at my face: "Ms. Davis, there are reports that you threw your weight around as a senior to force the new scientific genius, Ms. Harper, to give up co-authorship on an experimental project. Is this true?" "Out of all your past experimental projects, how many of the paper authorships did you obtain through such methods?" The crowd continued to press in, and I stumbled back into a corner. With such baseless accusations, any defense would be twisted. I spoke firmly and righteously: "These are all rumors. I advise the media to speak carefully, otherwise, I will definitely pursue legal action to the fullest extent." But the reporters had no intention of letting me go. They pulled out stacks of paper, and sharp questions rang out again: "We have the love letters you wrote to your professor when you were a graduate student. Did you use an improper relationship with your professor to grab research resources back then? Now you're plagiarizing a newcomer's work. Do you deserve to talk about the original intentions of a researcher?" I stared blankly at the yellowed papers, speechless. Every word and sentence on them was in my own handwriting. It was my first awakening of love, what I thought was a mutual pursuit. These love letters, on our first anniversary of marriage, he personally framed, hugging me and saying they were his most precious collection in this life. How did they end up in the hands of reporters now?
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