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墨書 Inktalez
The spotlight in the congressional hearing room carved Mao Yixuan's profile into a cold, hard sculpture. He unbuttoned his custom Armani suit, revealing the crisscrossing scars of electric shocks on his back—those meticulously treated wounds formed the words "Subject A" in Russian under the camera's gaze, and the live broadcast instantly surged to the top of global trending topics.
"This is the secret that Mao Group has guarded for twenty years." He plugged a USB drive into the terminal, and a laboratory surveillance video from 1999 began to play: Zhou Mingli, clad in protective gear, was injecting green slime into an embryo culture dish, with a faint reflection of Li Ce's biological father's face visible in the glass.
Han Xiao sat in the audience holding a child, her medical mask unable to conceal her pale complexion. The child's smart temperature patch displayed 39.5°C, and an encrypted message from the Berlin Medical Team flickered on her phone screen: "Antibody replacement causing abnormal hippocampal discharge; immediate termination of treatment recommended."
Suddenly, a crowd of protesters surged through the side door of the hearing room, brandishing placards reading "Gene Demon." Han Xiao recognized the leader as the surrogate mother who had gone missing three years ago; faint pregnancy stretch marks on her abdomen revealed a tattoo code from Renai Hospital. As security personnel's stun batons sparked with blue electricity, the child suddenly whispered in Russian: "Underground Level Two, Cold Chain Truck."
In the underground parking garage, emergency lights elongated the shadows of the container truck like monstrous fangs. Han Xiao used her iris to unlock the cold chain system; as cold air surged out, hundreds of embryo storage tanks materialized in the mist. Each tank bore medical codes from different countries, and surveillance footage showed these were indeed the "goods" being auctioned on the dark web.
"Mommy, third row, seventh one." The child's finger traced a chemical formula on the Bulletproof Glass. Han Xiao pried open the target tank and discovered not only embryos but also stacks of organ transplant records—Li Ce's name appeared on every recipient list, with surgery dates perfectly coinciding with his "death."
A roar from A Yong erupted through the intercom: "Cold Chain Truck is rigged with a remote-controlled bomb!" At that moment, a countdown timer's red light illuminated; Han Xiao caught sight of the countdown numbers reflected in the child's pupils—they matched exactly with the rescue deadline from the Berlin Medical Team.
In the dimly lit corridors of the congressional building, shadows twisted into phantoms. Han Xiao pushed the Cold Chain Truck through a labyrinthine passageway, where the child's cries collided with the ticking sound of the bomb's countdown against concrete walls. Suddenly, her phone connected to a dark web live stream: a host wearing a Li Ce mask was auctioning her real-time location, with bids coming from none other than a certain country's health minister.
"Turn left!" The voice command from Mao Yixuan abruptly cut into the vehicle's navigation system. Han Xiao slammed on the steering wheel; the Cold Chain Truck crashed through safety doors and barreled onto an underground track, narrowly avoiding an oncoming subway train. As shards of glass sliced across her cheek, the child suddenly recited a string of numbers in German—the deactivation code for the cold chain bomb.
The countdown halted at 00:07, and Han Xiao's fingertip hovered over the confirmation button. A final ultimatum came from Berlin: "Injecting antibodies now will preserve his language center." Yet at that moment, the Cold Chain Truck jolted violently, and alarms blared from the embryo storage tanks.
The main screen in the congressional hearing room suddenly switched images: twenty years ago in a laboratory, the young Father Mao was shaking hands with Li Ce's biological father. The terms of the contract magnified on camera—the supplementary agreement for the "Twin Embryo Experiment" revealed that if Subject (Mao Yixuan) experienced rejection, Backup (Li Ce) would be used for brain tissue transplantation.
The protesting crowd suddenly turned against their leaders, who tore off their disguises to reveal Zhou Mingli's adopted son's face. The recording he played caused an uproar in the room: "…to ensure Han Xiao gives birth to a perfect vessel…" This was the very conversation Han Xiao had overheard while unconscious in the delivery room.
"This is the truth they wanted!" Mao Yixuan ripped open his shirt, exposing a transplant scar over his heart. Under the live broadcast's close-up, the scar's shape perfectly matched the DNA model of the cold chain embryo. At that moment, shares of The Mao on the New York Stock Exchange plummeted, and representatives from twenty nations in healthcare collectively left.
At the end of the underground track, the Cold Chain Truck crashed into a buffer zone. Han Xiao rolled onto the tracks while holding her child, and the antibody syringe in her hand shattered upon impact. The Berlin Medical Team sent their final plan: "Immediate bone marrow transplantation is required, but donor mortality rate is 99%."
Suddenly, a hidden door at the top of the air raid shelter opened, and Lin Xiao descended via rope: "Interpol has located Li Ce's biological chip signal!" The locator she held pointed to the back of the child's neck—where tissue fluid was seeping out, matching the green mucus.
"Mom, it's okay." The child suddenly comforted her in perfect Russian, opening his palm to reveal a blood-stained wedding ring's inner circle. Under a magnifying glass, Han Xiao saw Nano-Level Engraving: "By December 24, 2030—Li Ce."
An air raid siren suddenly blared through the Capitol building, and all screens synchronized to broadcast a dark web ultimatum: "The human gene bank has been released into global water supply systems." Han Xiao watched as molecular structure diagrams flickered in her child's pupils and suddenly recalled the abnormal components of the IV fluid from that night in the delivery room—the pale green liquid was slowly flowing from faucets around the world.
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