Silas turned and pushed open the door. "Ms. Fish," he said, "at my age, making a living isn't easy. Earning money has been difficult, working day and night in the medical lab. Only now could I afford such an antique. Please, when you have time, I'll send someone to collect it. I wouldn't want to trouble you to keep it safe." He then left.

Flying Fish's smile froze. Silas, that old fox, had recognized her from the start. It's true what they say: experience makes all the difference. He'd been waiting for her. How could a dean of a top medical lab have the nerve to play the victim? she wondered.

She was worried. How am I supposed to get that antique back when I've already given it to my employer? If my boss didn't know Silas, I'd have run. Now that my hideout is exposed, what's the point? she thought.

Silas reached the ground floor. His driver stood respectfully, holding the car door open. Just as Silas was about to enter, he noticed someone approaching in the distance. He handed his black suitcase to the driver and strode towards the figure.

He moved with commanding presence. His face held a healthy rosy glow; there wasn't a trace of his sixty years. "I finally got to see you! I thought I'd be making this trip for nothing again today," he said with relief.

Yvette paused, lifting her eyelids slightly and giving a nonchalant nod. They formed a stark contrast: he was enthusiastic; she, almost expressionless. The driver watched, shocked. Is this still the usually serious Mr. Walson? How attentive he is to a pretty girl who seems barely interested! he wondered. Even top officials from Mysonna treat Mr. Walson with respect. What is happening? Who is this extraordinary girl?

Silas, now accustomed to her demeanor, looked at Yvette with hopeful eyes. "Do you have some time to sit down somewhere?"

Yvette, hand in pocket, radiating an intimidating aura, lowered her gaze. The side of her face visible beneath her baseball cap glowed white in the sunlight; her slightly raised eyebrows looked delicate. "Let's go," she replied concisely.

Silas could barely contain his happiness. Finding Yvette, even once, wasn't easy; years had passed since their last meeting. They casually chose a dessert shop. Silas, who usually had a personal pastry chef, would normally never be found in such a place. Yvette ordered a milkshake costing a few dollars; Silas, a coffee costing hundreds.

Yvette sipped her milkshake with enjoyment, legs crossed, appearing indifferent. She glanced at Silas casually. He took a sip of his coffee, found it unbearably cheap, and set it down.

After a moment, Silas spoke. "You should sign up for the first-level test of this year's Mysonna Medical Competition."

Yvette leaned back comfortably, pursed her lips, and tugged at her straw. "Not signing up," she said.

Silas spoke with heartfelt sincerity. "Come on, kiddo, just sign up. Another certificate won't hurt. You have no idea how many times the President has urged me not to waste your talent. Once you pass the first-level test, the lab can be handed over to you. I'm sixty; I should be retiring and enjoying my golden years, right?"

Yvette's eyes were half-closed, her brow furrowed slightly. "I'm not signing up. You're good for another twenty years," she replied.

Silas felt a lump in his throat. Is it my fault for looking young? In twenty years, I'll be eighty. She's a wicked capitalist, shamelessly exploiting me! he thought.

Wearing a gloomy expression, he said, "Come on, sweetheart, look at me. In twenty years, I'll be eighty. How could you bear to keep me cooped up in the lab every day?"

Yvette propped her face on her hand, giving a lazy smile. She sipped her milkshake silently. Silas leaned closer, pouting, looking upset and helpless, like a sixty-year-old child.

People around them whispered, casting curious glances. "Look at those two. They must be father and daughter. How did the girl get so pretty and manage to upset her dad so much?" one said. Another added, "I bet she's not looking after her parents properly and said something rude again. Her dad looks so sad and pitiful." A third person interjected, "Every family has its struggles; let's not gossip."

These whispers reached Silas and Yvette. Silas felt guilty. This shows that gossiping is in people’s nature. These people must have wild imaginations. I don’t have the qualifications to be Yvette’s dad, he thought.

Yvette swung her leg, looking at Silas with a playful smile. Her lips curved mischievously. "Dad?" she teased.

Silas's hands shook, spilling his coffee. "You're my dad," he blurted, blushing with embarrassment. But he valued his life more than his pride.

Yvette tapped her finger on the table, resting her chin on her hand. Her voice was cold. "Did you manage to extract the unstable substance from No. 7 Toxin?"

Silas immediately straightened. The toxin Fiona stole, No. 7 Toxin, was flawed; it wasn't the real one. He had the antidote. Rumors about the antidote existed; if it were the real No. 7 Toxin, even immortals couldn't save anyone.

"We've undergone thousands of tests. The unstable elements have been narrowed down. Unless something unexpected happens, it will take another six months to compare the reactions and draw a conclusion," Silas said.

Yvette raised an eyebrow and nodded, returning to her milkshake. Silas suddenly thought of Flying Fish. "By the way, today at the apartment, I ran into a girl who used to be undercover and stole a relic from my house. Are you friends with her?"

Yvette hesitated, looking away. "How much is the relic worth? I'll write you a check later," she said softly.

Silas was speechless. Feigning thought, his eyes sparkling, he waved his hand generously. "It's no big deal! For a friend like yours, not just one relic, I could give away a few. But maybe you don't know, the one she took was my favorite blue and white porcelain plate. I used to sleep with it by my side; couldn't sleep without it. Ever since it was stolen, my insomnia hasn't improved," he said.

Yvette looked up, her cold eyes flickering. Who are you trying to fool, old trickster? Do you sleep with it? Won't it poke you?

After a few seconds, she said, "Just tell me what you want."

Silas's face lit up. He didn't hold back, stating his demands. "That's easy. We've got new interns at the lab; I'm overwhelmed. They're all geniuses who don't respect each other, turning the lab into a chaotic mess. I don't have time to handle them. So, please help me train them for a week, and we'll let bygones be bygones."

Yvette glanced at him, thinking, He's good at taking advantage of situations without holding back. "Deal," she agreed.