Chu Yanshen stared at his cell phone, looking at the message he had just finished typing.
In his mind, a scene flashed:
A girl in a red dress, wearing a golden mask, walked with a graceful, lithe figure. Her long fingers held a cigar, which she deeply inhaled from, and with her red lips, she gently exhaled a smoke ring.
Then, the pair of pitch-black eyes beneath the mask turned towards him.
The woman's thin lips slightly parted, her voice clear, cold, and languid:
"527, remember this well, when dealing with scientific researchers, you must show respect, for they are the future of this world."
527 was his code number within that organization.
She would always mock him, even his code number sounded like "I love my wife," suggesting that he would be a man who adores his wife in the future. He asked her what she liked.
The woman would continue to laugh: "518, I love fortune, that's right, I just love money!"
He couldn't help but laugh.
Of course, he knew she didn't love money.