My Secretary is a Little Sweet

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In the beginning, why didn’t he puncture his father’s or mother’s hand, but his brother’s?

Even if he lost his memory, he was still convinced that he had a brother.

Instead, he had no impression on his parents.

Everyone said his parents were dead, but no one said his brother was dead. This means that his brother must be alive.

The chip was taken out of Jing Zhi's ear, making him feel that his brain seemed clear.

He feels that he has overlooked an important issue all the time. Perhaps, in these two organizations, there are people who protect him?

If the previous accidents were not his illusions, but someone was really helping him?

Jing Zhi suddenly felt a sense of happiness warmed by the sun.

This is the first time in six years that he has truly felt happiness, being protected and loved by others.

He is not a guinea pig, he is not a monster, he is just a child who has forgotten his life.

He looked down at the two pale blue writings on his palm, and a bright smile spread across his lips.

It’s nice to have an elder brother, he doesn’t seem to have any pain on his body!

Jing Zhi clenched his fists and strode out.

Seeing him leaving, doctors in the institute stopped him.

"Sean, you can't leave, your body hasn't recovered!"

"Sean, go back and lie down, today's drug injection has not been completed!"

"Sean, you may bleed anywhere in your body right now. You can't touch outsiders. Otherwise, it will cause a large area of ​​death. You have been imprisoned! You can't get out!"

...

Jing Zhi felt upset after the other voices, and he was already in a good mood. Once he saw these people who had always experimented with him like a mouse, his mood could not be better.

In order to prevent him from being infected, these people in the institute all wear masks and rubber gloves, wear protective clothing on their bodies, and are fully armed, with only two eyes exposed.

Jing Zhi showed a harmless smile to those people, and then broke his fingertips.

All the researchers who came to block the road, as soon as he saw that he was bleeding, they were all scared and looked back, all in a panic.

He is a mobile pathogen! The most dangerous kind!

Jingzhi didn't feel distressed at all as the blood went down, anyway, even if he didn't waste it, the blood would be drawn away.

Every time a drop of blood came out, he slammed towards a man.

In the killer camp, he has already been trained to have excellent quasi-heads, coupled with his excellent vision, it is not difficult to throw blood beads into people's eyes.

But within a minute or two, the underground research room of the institute has been wailing.

The piercing alarm of the Institute immediately sounded, and an angry voice echoed through the loudspeaker: "Stop Sean, never allow him to leave!"

Hundreds of heavily armed bodyguards stopped Jing Zhi. Each of them had a gun in his hand. As long as he took another step, he would shoot.

Of course, the bullet is not a bullet, but a powerful anesthetic.

Jing Zhi is the most important and valuable virus research body in the entire research institute, and he must not be put in danger.

Jing Zhi sneered as he watched the black crowd stop him.

Did he learn everything in his six years in the killer camp?

He suddenly sprinted, and his speed suddenly increased, easily avoiding the anesthesia needle flying towards him, and broke into the group of bodyguards.

One by one, the bodyguards were kicked out by Jing Zhi. The scene did not look like kicking people out, but like throwing broken sacks out.

The screams came one after another, and all the bodyguards lay on the ground for a while, without knowing their lives.

Jing Zhi kicked the door open and walked up the steps step by step.

The white diseased suit on his body was stained with blood stains, both his own and others. The slippers no longer knew where he was going. He was barefoot and stepped on the cold ground, behind which were **** footprints one after another.

In order to prevent him from escaping, the Virus Research Institute has not given him meals since he fainted, and only gave him an infusion every day to maintain his life.

He has not eaten for seven consecutive days.

If his body were not strong enough, the virus could engulf cells to release energy, and he would almost starve to death now.

Severe energy deficits made Jing Zhi top-heavy.

He had lost too much blood originally. In order to maintain the concentration of virus in his blood, the Institute refused to give him blood transfusion, so his face was very pale.

Just now, he fought again against the Enemy 100, and was hit with several anesthetics. His body was severely overdrawn.

Illusions began to appear in his eyes.

Jing Zhi knew that this was an illusion.

He used all his strength to start running.

He wanted to escape from here, here is **** on earth!

why?

Why is there a rare virus worldwide in his body? Why is he imprisoned here? Why no one regards him as a man!

What he did wrong, to be subjected to such punishment and torture!

The effectiveness of the anesthetic gradually occupied Jing Zhi's body. He accelerated running in illusion, rushed out of the high courtyard wall of the institute, ran across the central square like a wind, and rushed into a piece of ocean water, letting his body slow down Slowly sank.

For a moment, he saw a lot of fragments of memory, but the fragments were too messy, he could not tell whether it was an illusion or a precious memory that he once had.

"Brother, I have chocolates for you!"

"Brother, when can I grow taller than you?"

"Brother, can I sleep with you?"

...

In a trance, he saw a tall figure leaping from the shore into the icy seawater.

The figure was blurry, but he was getting closer and closer to him.

He reached out to him, supported his body, took him through the sea, and got fresh air again.

Jing Zhi wants to see what he looks like, who wants to save himself. However, his physical strength had long been overdrawn, and the anesthetic forced him into the boundless darkness.

The next day, Jing Zhi woke up from a dizziness.

Glancing around, he was depressed.

No matter how hard he struggles, he can't escape here.

He leaned against the bedside, recalling what happened last night, and I was not sure if anyone had rescued him from the deep sea.

He often couldn't distinguish between illusion and reality. He always felt that he was so unreal as he was in a dream last night.

The door of the room was opened, and Peter came in.

"The number of direct deaths was 72 yesterday, and the number of infected people was 256!"