Morning.
A research institute somewhere on Fu Continent.
Sixth floor, West Wing, Isolation Room No. 1.
This was laid out like a small office, with a round table, a projector, and plenty of equipment whose names were impossible to tell. Normally, this isolation room would not be activated. It was only used to isolate relevant personnel for confidentiality when there were major scientific breakthroughs or decisions, or sometimes for meetings involving important matters. It was not literally an isolation room. But now, standing out awkwardly inside was a simple single bed in the farthest corner, utterly out of place among the equipment and conference table.
This was not a place for living.
The signals were blocked, there was no sunlight, and even the door was bulletproof.
Yet someone had already lived here for three full months. During those three months, she had never stepped outside the isolation room even once. Twenty-four hours a day, she ate and slept here.
Rip.
With a soft sound, several documents were torn apart, the movements carrying a trace of irritation. Beneath the isolation room's lights, a beautiful middle-aged woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses sat in a leather chair. She tossed the torn documents onto the table and let out a heavy breath, looking utterly stifled.
Three months!
She had been confined for three months already!
Just thinking about it was enough to know how unbearable it must have been!
Zhong Lizhen steadied her emotions and forced herself to calm down. Then she pushed up her glasses, rose with a stern face, and slowly walked to the door, pressing the communicator mounted there.
Beep, beep, beep.
A voice immediately came from the other end.
"Hello, Professor Zhong." It was a man's voice, speaking English as well.
"Tom, I want to go out and get some sun,"