Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 16

Some time later, in the Adrenaline Division’s meeting room, all research staff had taken their seats.

Zhu Sui glanced at the folder in front of her. “If I’m not mistaken, all of you were part of the temporary Z-serum task force assembled two years ago when you went abroad, correct?”

The researchers exchanged looks and nodded.

They had indeed been a last-minute team, thrown together two years ago.

“So, who was part of the original team? Just you, Dr. Cheng?” Zhu Sui asked.

It was rare to hear a “you” from her that didn’t sound cold, but somehow it still came off strangely sarcastic.

“No, there were three of us at the start,” Cheng Lang replied.

“Song Zhen, Zuo Tian, and you. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Cheng Lang suddenly realized why Zhu Sui had gone to the affiliate lab yesterday. Back then, Cheng had gone abroad, while Song Zhen and Zuo Tian stayed behind. Yet now, with the affiliate lab about to be shut down and its original key members not absorbed into the main project—yes, it was odd.

Understanding this, Cheng Lang remained calm. “Yes. But later, they stayed in the country.”

“To provide real-time data from experimental drug trials on patients, right?” Zhu Sui continued.

“Partially. One, I was the project initiator and lead. Two, both Song and Zuo are Betas. Compared to Alphas and Omegas, their cognitive and spiritual thresholds just don’t measure up. Considering everything, we made the appropriate decision.”

Zhu Sui frowned.

The others around the table didn’t react. Not because they agreed, but because the cutting-edge researchers in the institute were predominantly A or O. This project had national-level attention, and the team had been hand-picked: all high-level Alphas. Not a single Beta in the room.

Zhu Sui leaned back in her chair, brow arched. “So Dr. Cheng, you’re saying Betas aren’t qualified to be part of this project?”

Cheng Lang paused, then gave a superficial smile. “Of course not. Equality has been advocated for half a century. We’re all highly educated—we don’t discriminate. But it’s well-known that Betas generally rank below Alphas and Omegas in mental capabilities.”

Zhu Sui’s brows arched higher as she scanned the room. “So, Betas are inferior intellectually to AOs?”

The room filled with awkward but polite smiles. Zhu Sui got the message.

And then, she dropped the pretense.

“In that case, maybe I should replace you all.”

That landed like a bombshell.

“Betas might be ‘inferior,’ yet according to the data, Z-serum has overcome seven major technical barriers over the past two years. One was solved using foreign tech, three by your team under Dr. Cheng’s lead—and the remaining three? They were initiated by the affiliate lab. Your final breakthroughs were built off their leads.”

She swept the room with her gaze. “If we’re being honest, apart from Dr. Cheng, the rest of you Alphas didn’t even outperform a group of so-called ‘inferior’ Betas. So tell me—why should the Adrenaline Division keep you?”

Silence.

None of them had expected Zhu Sui to know that much. Cold sweat broke out on foreheads around the room.

Cheng Lang replied evenly, “But Director Zhu, as you said—the affiliate lab only provided the direction. It was still a joint effort in the end.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Exactly.”

With Cheng leading the tone, the rest quickly echoed support.

Zhu Sui sneered. “I’m not a researcher, but I’d love to know—how easy is it to ‘only’ provide the direction? My understanding is that the Tong family’s lab in Sector 3 is notorious for being stuck at ‘direction-setting’—their shortest bottleneck period lasted a full year. Are you suggesting their team is incompetent?”

Her words were sharp and deliberate.

She might not be a scientist, but she clearly understood this field well enough—not just superficially.

The air turned ice-cold.

Nobody dared meet her eyes. Most had already lowered their heads.

Cheng Lang smiled thinly. “I’ll admit the affiliate lab made substantial contributions. But the decision to shut it down follows national policy.”

Zhu Sui pressed her brows together. “Dealing with an affiliate lab doesn’t have to mean termination. The lab can be absorbed into the main project. Given their proven contributions, I believe they are more than qualified to continue.”

Cheng Lang stayed composed. “But this isn’t just our decision. The institute approved it. The military district sealed it. It’s a comprehensive decision, not something made solely by us.”

“And, as you mentioned, Director Zhu, you’re not a scientist. From a technical standpoint, Z-serum has already entered the clinical phase. The formula’s basically finalized. As for development breakthroughs?

Those are behind us. There’s no current need for the affiliate lab to continue.”

“But that lab’s been aiding pregnant patients with stabilizers based on interim results,” Zhu Sui countered.

Cheng cut her off, “Of course, in the interest of humanitarian care, those patients can still access medication. That’s not a problem.”

“But we are at a sensitive juncture. Secrecy is paramount. You wouldn’t want the project compromised now, would you?”

Zhu Sui fell silent.

Cheng Lang met her gaze head-on, smiling confidently.

Eventually, Zhu Sui said flatly, “I disagree with the decision. I’ll be filing a reinstatement appeal with the military district.”

The meeting ended on a tense and awkward note.

Zhu Sui knew Cheng Lang had a tight grip on the division—but she hadn’t expected that even after laying out the affiliate lab’s contributions, not a single person spoke up in support.

Clearly, resentment toward her sudden arrival wasn’t limited to Cheng Lang.

But Zhu Sui hadn’t come to Adrenaline Division to be liked.

After the meeting, she sought out Deputy Director Rong and formally submitted the appeal.

Given their family connections, Rong didn’t outright reject her—but he made his stance clear.

“Suìsuì, you’ve only just arrived. Sure, your appointment was arranged by the state, but Cheng Lang is bound to have feelings about this. She just submitted for closure and now you’re trying to reverse it? That’s putting her on the spot.”

“Besides, you’re not a scientist. Even if you file the appeal, the military will base its final decision on policy and input from active research staff. And if they say the lab’s unnecessary—well, you get it, right?”

Of course Zhu Sui understood. This appeal had slim odds.

Still…

“I just think it’s a shame. I’m Division Head now. I have to at least try.”

She smiled. “Submit it, Uncle Rong. I’ll accept whatever outcome.”

Rong nodded, message delivered.

After submitting the paperwork, he remembered something. “By the way, Suìsuì—Xiao Yi hasn’t been feeling well lately. I originally asked Dr. Cheng to give her a check-up. Now that the division is under your management, I’ll just have her come to you directly.”

“She’s not feeling well?”

Rong sighed. “Yes. You know she had two… incidents. Now she’s past the three-month mark, but still feeling off. We’re worried. Cheng Lang specializes in this, maybe she can help ease her symptoms. Anything to spare her more suffering.”

That afternoon, Zhu Yi came in for a check-up. Cheng Lang handled it personally, and the results looked fine.

Afterward, Zhu Sui saw her off downstairs.

Seeing Zhu Yi’s pale face, she hesitated, but finally just said, “Jiejie, if you ever need anything, call me. I’m at Adrenaline now—I might actually be able to help.”

Zhu Yi smiled weakly, resting a hand on her waist. “I know. Don’t worry about me. Go back to work.”

Only after seeing her safely into the car did Zhu Sui return upstairs.

That evening, she recounted everything to Song Zhen, who replied calmly, “Thanks, really. No matter what, we’ll go through the process.”

“I heard the military will hold a formal review meeting next week. Everyone involved will attend, and a final decision will be made on the spot.”

“I know.”

Zhu Sui hesitated. “If it’s officially shut down, what will you do?”

Song Zhen looked down. “I haven’t decided yet. Let’s wait for the result first.”

A week later, the meeting went ahead as planned. All personnel from both labs attended.

It lasted two hours. Just as Zhu Sui and Song Zhen had expected, the appeal was rejected.

Two reasons were given: first, due to confidentiality at this key phase of the project, the affiliate lab would remain closed. Second, the consensus among the primary lab staff—under Cheng Lang’s sway—was also against reinstatement.

After the meeting, Song Zhen and Cheng Lang exited in opposite directions without exchanging a word.

Once Song Zhen got into the car, Zhu Sui apologized, “Sorry, Jiejie. I couldn’t save the lab.”

She hesitated again, then added, “I’ve been thinking… If the lab’s termination is final, the best solution is for your team to join the main division. But…”

Song Zhen nodded. “But with Cheng Lang firmly opposed, bridging that gap will be tough.”

“I’m fine with joining,” she added. “As long as we can keep working on the project… it’s just more trouble for you.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

Song Zhen smiled and teased lightly, “Who else can I count on if not you?”

Before Zhu Sui could reply, her phone rang.

It was Rong Mo—his voice panicked.

“Suìsuì, where are you? Do you have time? Your cousin—she’s in trouble…”

Zhu Sui instantly sobered. “Calm down, Rong Mo. Tell me what happened.”

“I—I don’t know. She was past the three-month mark. Everything was fine. But now… her emotions are unstable. The nanny said it might be the start of another pheromone disruption. I can’t leave work right now, and Qingshan’s not even in Beijing…”

“I’m heading to your place now,” Zhu Sui cut in, decisive. “Cheng Lang checked her just recently. I’ll take her to Adrenaline. If it is pheromone imbalance, there’s no time for the hospital. This might be our best shot.”