In the laboratory of the Beijing University Life Sciences Department, Silas Shen stood before a microscope. The hem of his white lab coat draped against his legs, his profile lean and solitary. His meticulous appearance always gave people the impression that what flowed through his veins wasn't blood, but some precisely calculated chemical reagent.
"Hiss—Professor Shen, there seems to be a fluctuation in this set of centrifuge data." Assistant Lin scratched his head as he walked over, holding a coffee mug.
Silas didn't even look up, his slender fingers making a fine adjustment to the focus knob. His voice was cool. "Rerun the offset. Pay attention to the temperature control."
"Got it." Lin nodded, but his gaze inadvertently swept over the coffee cup sitting next to Silas's hand.
That was Silas's unshakable morning stimulant—usually a cup of pure black Americano, so bitter it was numbing. No milk, and certainly no sugar. Silas once said that bitterness helped maintain absolute clarity in the cerebral cortex.
But now, next to that white porcelain cup, lay two torn sugar cube wrappers.
Silas was naturally picking up a silver teaspoon, slowly stirring the liquid. The sound of metal clinking against porcelain was exceptionally crisp in the quiet lab. Clink. Clink.
"Huh?" Lin's eyes widened as if he'd discovered a new continent. "Professor Shen, you've changed your taste? I thought you hated anything sweet?"
Silas's stirring motion froze abruptly.
The silver spoon hovered in the coffee for half a second, sending out a tiny ripple. Maintaining his posture, Silas didn't let his expression change, nor did he even move his eyes from the microscope. He simply spoke in a flat tone: "My blood sugar has been a bit low lately. I'm supplementing some calories."
"Oh, makes sense. Coming back from that business trip to Haicheng must have been exhausting." Lin didn't think much of it. He gave a chuckle and turned back to fiddle with the centrifuge.
Silas let out a silent sigh of relief. He picked up the cup and took a shallow sip.
It was a level of sweetness he used to avoid at all costs. But now, as that sweetness spread from the tip of his tongue to his throat, it actually felt like a magical soothing agent, smoothing out the nerves that had been frayed by a lack of sleep since morning.
Involuntarily, he thought back to their last afternoon in Haicheng.
Back then, Hunter's arm still had its stitches. He had been acting like a clingy Golden Retriever, insisting on dragging Silas to a dessert shop by the sea. Hunter had held his coffee with one hand and, with absolute certainty, dropped two sugar cubes into Silas's cup.
"Professor, just try it," the boy had said, his eyes filled with sunshine. "Life is bitter enough; you need two sugars in your coffee. Coffee with two sugars is the best thing in the world. Trust me—if you think it's bad, I'll eat the cup."
How had Silas answered then? He recalled saying "Boring" with a cold face.
But now, within the dosage of those two sugar cubes, he tasted a lingering aftertaste called "Longing."
On the other side of the lab bench, Hunter Huo was buried in a pile of Petri dishes. He wore the same style of white lab coat as Silas, though he never liked fastening the top button, revealing his powerful neck.
He looked like he was seriously recording data, but if one looked closer, they would see that the tip of his pen had already poked a small hole in his notebook.
He had heard Lin's words, and he had heard Silas's excuse about "low blood sugar."
That secret, which had once belonged only to him, had been brought back to Beijing University by Silas in this clumsy, hidden way. This feeling made his heart itch more than hitting a deep three-pointer on the basketball court.
Hunter bit his lower lip hard, trying to suppress the smile he couldn't hide.
The tips of his ears were red enough to bleed, the flush creeping down his neck and disappearing under his lab coat. He could smell that besides the coffee, there was a faint scent of fir—Silas's pheromones, which seemed to have softened considerably because of the sugar in the coffee.
"Hunter Huo." Silas's cool voice suddenly rang out.
"Ah! Present!" Hunter jumped, nearly dropping his pen. He snapped his head up, his eyes bright as he looked at Silas.
Silas had already set down his coffee cup. He had his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking at him from a few meters away. That high-collared shirt still strictly guarded his dignity, but the gaze he directed at Hunter inadvertently crashed into the youth's scorching eyes.
"Have you finished the observation records for this set of samples?" Silas asked, his tone returning to its usual sternness.
"Almost! Don't worry, Professor!" Hunter grinned brilliantly. "I'll definitely work twice as hard to ensure the data is absolutely accurate... and that the 'sweetness' meets the standard."
"Nonsense," Silas muttered a soft rebuke and turned away.
But the moment he turned, the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
This "smuggled" tenderness under the public gaze, this private territory hidden within caffeine, made Silas feel for the first time that the dry life of the laboratory actually possessed a comforting, human warmth.
Lin was busy in the distance, the hum of the centrifuge masking the silent exchange between the two.
In this rational, logically-driven laboratory at Beijing University, within the steam rising from a cup of coffee with two sugars, a forbidden and passionate chemical reaction was quietly forming behind everyone's backs.
Silas picked up the cup again.
It was the taste of two sugars.
And the taste of that boy.