My Lips Are Tightly Closed

A day had passed since that event. Now, in the morning light filtering through the high ceilings and large glass windows of the lab, the space was illuminated, showcasing rows of syringes neatly arranged in a rack, alongside numerous jars and alchemic tools.

What drew immediate attention, however, was a white mouse, housed in a small glass enclosure, surrounded by an array of vials on the workbench.

Standing before the workbench was Shen Zeming. Dressed in a lab coat, his sharply chiseled jawline was taut, his bold eyebrows furrowed, and his piercing gaze fixed intently. He held a syringe in his hand, his eyes narrowing as he studied the vials laid before him.

“Hmm…” he murmured, picking up one of the vials labeled Ma Huang, Ginseng, Datura. “This should be sufficient,” Shen Zeming said.

The vial contained a solution pre-mixed with scopolamine, a serotonin inhibitor, and a norepinephrine booster. Carefully, he drew the liquid into the syringe he held.