Hot Enough to Rage, Angry Enough for a Discount

Its desire-sync concentration was twenty times that of Cluck-Cluck Crunch, yet the batch code said it had never officially left the factory. “Someone deliberately delivered an experiment batch.” The courier account belonged to a nonexistent person. The receipt bore one name: Han Jibai. Chen Nuo knew it. OmniTaste's youngest vice president had once said at an industry summit: People claim they want choice, but their bodies crave the easiest single answer. An anonymous email reached Chen Nuo. Its attachment was a frame from the convenience-store stream, with circles around Su Jianwei, the apparently empty place where General Crunch stood, and the exact path of Chen Nuo's charge. The sender could see flavor beasts.