On How To Defeat Dr. Qing Leng Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Heartache

The message was from Fan Qingzhi.

[Yelan, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t expect the results to turn out this way. CEO Zhao and the others probably prioritized the project’s short-term application prospects and team collaboration ability. Your fundamental research is excellent; you’ll definitely have better opportunities in the future. Don’t lose heart!] [hug emoji]

Wen Yelan stared at the hypocritical message of comfort, desperately suppressing the turmoil inside him. He immediately closed the chat box and buried his face in his cold hands.

Why? Why couldn’t someone who genuinely focused on research defeat opportunism? Why must pure academia always be tainted by these filthy methods?

A profound sense of powerlessness and rage threatened to drown him. He recalled the forced abandonment of the scientific expedition on Mount Everest, the hard liquor he was forced to drink at the banquet, and now, the loss of this crucial project… It was as if no matter how hard he tried, there was always a force pushing him toward the edge.

He felt like a small boat lost in a dense fog, which had finally glimpsed the faint light of a lighthouse, only to be dragged back into deeper darkness by a sudden undercurrent.

Wen Yelan’s body trembled slightly. He knew exactly what he needed to do. If he went to see that representative Zhao now and used Fan Qingzhi’s methods, the project would very likely take a turn for the better.

These representatives weren’t fools; his proposal was clearly superior. That representative Zhao was clearly bisexual, and the only reason he hadn’t succeeded was because he hadn’t—he hadn’t lowered himself…

Just then, Fan Qingzhi approached his desk. “Yelan, are you alright? Honestly, you have such bad luck. Representative Zhao insisted on choosing me. Maybe it’s because I’m better at handling people.” Fan Qingzhi sighed dramatically, then chuckled softly, leaning in to whisper, “It’s a real waste that you have such a handsome face.”

Wen Yelan clenched his fists tightly, then slowly released them.

He couldn’t do it. Let it be.

……

Pei Yan discovered the incorrect name on the project progress briefing a week later.

The assistant placed the progress report for the Moonlight Foundation-funded Institute of Geological Sciences project on his desk. He casually flipped it open, his eyes scanning the Project Lead column. It wasn’t the expected “Wen Yelan,” but another unfamiliar name: “Fan Qingzhi.”

His brows instantly furrowed. He thought he had misread it. He double-checked the project title and the funding amount. No mistake, it was the exact research direction he had specifically instructed them to support.

“Who is this Fan Qingzhi?” Pei Yan looked up and asked the assistant, his voice carrying a subtle chill.

The assistant had clearly done his homework and immediately replied, “Mr. Pei, Fan Qingzhi is an associate researcher at the Institute of Geological Sciences, who started working two years before Dr. Wen Yelan. According to our information, Dr. Wen and another Dr. Su were the final candidates in the internal review. The review committee gave Dr. Wen higher academic marks, but the chief review representative, Zhao Hua… seemed to favor Fan Qingzhi’s proposal, believing it to be ‘more application-oriented and possessing better collaborative affinity.’”

The assistant’s words were cautious and objective, but Pei Yan was too sharp not to catch the subtext. “Collaborative affinity?” He scoffed. “Has this Dr. Fan been in frequent contact with Zhao Hua recently?”

The assistant hesitated but reported truthfully, “Yes. According to some unofficial feedback from the Institute, Fan Qingzhi had multiple private meetings with Manager Zhao during the review period, including dinner. Whereas Dr. Wen… did not seem to have any non-work-related communication with Manager Zhao.”

Pei Yan’s face darkened completely. A sudden, nameless anger flared up. He hadn’t expected that his seemingly thorough arrangement, instead of helping Wen Yelan, had made him a victim of such sordid tactics! He trusted Wen Yelan’s ability, which was why he hadn’t named him specifically, but he had underestimated the petty, underhanded dealings that also existed in the academic world!

“Bastard!” he cursed under his breath, unsure if he was cursing the lustful Manager Zhao or blaming Wen Yelan, who had suffered injustice but didn’t speak up or come to him! He was angry at his lack of fight! The opportunity Pei Yan provided was for him to seize based on merit, not to be squeezed out by such despicable means!

“Go investigate! Get me the full details of the process!” Pei Yan ordered the assistant through clenched teeth.

“Yes, Mr. Pei.”

After the assistant left, Pei Yan irritably loosened his tie and walked over to the massive floor-to-ceiling window. Outside was Beijing’s bustling nightscape, bright with lights, but they couldn’t penetrate his gloomy mood.

Pei Yan recalled Wen Yelan’s cool eyes, his stubborn mouth, and the slight tremor of his eyelashes that morning at the breakfast shop as he sipped his congee. What state must a person like that be in right now? Given his personality, he would likely bottle up all the grievances and anger, enduring it alone.

The black Audi merged into the night traffic, speeding toward the direction of a bar. Pei Yan gripped the steering wheel, his face taut.

He had initially intended to go to Wen Yelan’s apartment, but the lights were off, and no one answered after he knocked for a long time. Fearing something had happened, Pei Yan had his subordinates check his location.

Wen Yelan was at a bar.

Pei Yan was stunned when he heard the news. He imagined Wen Yelan drowning his sorrows in such a chaotic place, and the thought of his fragile stomach and his stubbornly aloof demeanor caused his anger and anxiety to intertwine, nearly exploding.

“Wen Yelan, you better be okay!” He gritted his teeth and pressed the accelerator, increasing his speed.

Inside the bar, the light was dim and hazy, and deafening electronic music pounded against everyone’s eardrums. The air was a mix of alcohol, perfume, and various desires.

Silhouettes swayed on the dance floor. Wen Yelan sat alone in an inconspicuous corner of the bar. He had already drunk quite a bit, with several empty whiskey glasses in front of him.

The alcohol burned his throat and stomach, bringing a numb, stinging sensation, but it also temporarily dispersed the suffocating images in his mind—Fan Qingzhi’s smug smile, Representative Zhao’s scrutinizing gaze, the sympathetic or gloating looks from colleagues, the glaring name on the public notice board…

He had a low tolerance for alcohol. Although he had only ordered a few low-proof, colorful drinks, the world was starting to spin and blur.

His usually taut nerves, dulled by the alcohol, became sluggish and fragile. Wen Yelan leaned on the cold wooden bar, his face pressed against the counter, his eyes unfocused as he watched the figures swaying on the dance floor. He looked like a piece of exquisite yet fragile porcelain, abandoned amidst the clamor.

Men and women in questionable designer clothes came over to chat, only to be glared away by his icy, even disgusted, look. He didn’t need company, he didn’t need comfort. He just wanted to use this spicy liquid to extinguish the unvented rage and overwhelming sense of injustice in his heart.

Why? He asked himself again and again. He just wanted to do his research. Why was it so difficult? Was it just because he wasn’t smart enough to understand the so-called “rules”? Or was it because he was inherently unworthy of a smooth life? The loneliness of his childhood, the hardships of his studies, the failure on Mount Everest, and now this filth… All the long-suppressed negative emotions surged up now, amplified by the alcohol.

He picked up another glass, intending to down it, but a hand gently pressed down on his wrist from the side.

Wen Yelan raised his head, his eyes blurry with drink. Against the light, he saw a tall, imposing figure standing next to him. The blurred outline was somewhat familiar, but his muddled brain couldn’t immediately identify him.

“Stop drinking.” The man’s voice was low, carrying a hint of suppressed anger, yet it strangely cut through the loud music, landing clearly in his ears.

Wen Yelan forcefully shook off the hand, his tone nasty. “Get lost! I don’t need you to tell me what to do!”

Pei Yan looked at Wen Yelan and felt a sharp pang in his heart. The Wen Yelan before him had an unnatural flush on his cheeks, his eyes were hazy and vulnerable, and his usually meticulously combed hair was slightly messy, with a few damp black strands clinging to his smooth forehead.

He was wearing a simple blue shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing his delicate collarbone. His entire presence exuded an unprecedented air of decadence and allure.

“Look at the state you’re in!” Pei Yan forced down his temper and reached out to help him up. “Is that worthless project worth this?”

“Worthless project?” Wen Yelan seemed stung. He abruptly lifted his head and glared at Pei Yan, though his eyes lacked focus. “What do you know?! That was… that was the only thing I could hold onto right now! People like you… you’ll never understand!”

His voice was hoarse and agitated from the alcohol, drawing glances from people nearby.

Pei Yan ground his back teeth. He didn’t want to argue with him in public. He immediately wrapped an arm around Wen Yelan’s waist, trying to pull him away from the bar. “Come home with me!”

“I’m not going back!” Wen Yelan struggled violently, pushing Pei Yan away with his hands and feet. He was heavily drunk, but his strength was considerable, and Pei Yan was momentarily unable to restrain him.

“Wen Yelan!” Pei Yan roared, tightening his grip, practically half-carrying him and dragging him toward the bar exit. “Have you made enough of a scene?”

“Let go of me! Pei Yan! You bastard!” Trapped in Pei Yan’s embrace, unable to break free, the alcohol magnified his emotions. His grievances and anger burst forth, and he lashed out recklessly. “You’re all the same… relying on your money and power… thinking you can do whatever you want… looking down on people… playing with the rules… Bastard!”

Listening to his drunken rant, Pei Yan felt both exasperated and heartbroken. He knew Wen Yelan wasn’t truly cursing him, but rather Manager Zhao and the underlying corruption, yet his heart felt heavy. He stopped wasting words, determined to get the man out first.

After finally managing to shove the struggling Wen Yelan into the passenger seat and buckle him in, Pei Yan was sweating. He got into the driver’s seat and looked at Wen Yelan, who was curled up, eyes closed, breathing slightly, with what looked like dampness at the corners of his eyes. The anger in his chest was gradually replaced by a more complex emotion.

He reached out and gently brushed his thumb across Wen Yelan’s feverish tear ducts, a tenderness in the action that he himself hadn’t noticed.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly. “When you get bullied, you just hide and drink? Why didn’t you come to me?”

Wen Yelan seemed to sense the touch. He stirred restlessly, murmuring unconsciously, “…Find my brother… I need to find my brother…”

Pei Yan’s hand froze instantly.

Brother?

He remembered that night at the hotel when Wen Yelan had also mumbled something similar while drunk.

An indescribable mix of bitterness and stirring emotion quietly crept into Pei Yan’s heart. He looked at Wen Yelan’s defenseless sleeping face, realizing for the first time how much hidden vulnerability and longing lay beneath the surface of the iceberg he wanted to melt.

The night was deep. The myriad lights outside the car window seemed to have nothing to do with the pitiful person beside him. Pei Yan started the car, driving away from the noisy, hazy area, heading toward a destination that wasn’t entirely clear even to himself. He didn’t want to take Wen Yelan back to that lifeless, old, cramped apartment again.