Song He Factory

"What happened? Why did you throw up too?" Song He went in and asked, "What did you dream about?"

Xiang Xiaotong held a paper cup and rinsed her mouth, looking miserable. "I really did dream about a handsome guy."

"Isn't that a good thing? Why would you throw up?"

"He was dead."

Song He was stunned.

Xiang Xiaotong rinsed her mouth again and sighed wearily. "Do you remember that senior I told you about, the one who died in an experimental accident?"

"The one who was struck when the inner drum of the centrifuge flew out?" Song He recalled.

"I dreamed about that laboratory again. It wasn't just one person who died—all the equipment exploded, and more than a dozen seniors were blown to death."

"The bodies weren't fresh. They'd probably been dead for a week. I don't know why nobody had cleaned them up. They were all lying on the floor, rotting into... giant tumors."

"Good grief!" Song He immediately understood why she had vomited.

"I felt horribly sick, but then I remembered that I'd entered the dream this time to conduct a tactile experiment. I couldn't come all this way for nothing, so I reached out and touched the skin of one of the bodies. Then it burst open, and the handsome corpse exploded into a fountain of gore."

As she spoke, Xiang Xiaotong seemed to be reminded of something unpleasant. Her expression abruptly changed, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

The white-coated researcher beside her reacted quickly and hurriedly handed her the trash can again. Xiang Xiaotong promptly began vomiting once more.

"That's dedication! You really went and touched a body with giant tumors! Take a look, everyone, just look! A dean is a dean. If you can all develop the dean's spirit of dedication,