Crossing the boundary

He hadn't forgotten the hunt in the pigeon coop. Milo darted forward and grabbed the phone on the table, about to dial Miles's number.

Blaise didn't stop him, but simply turned to the side, and Milo then saw that Father Ward was standing behind him.

The priest, who couldn't see clearly, groped his way into the room and asked, "Have we arrived yet?"

Blaise held his hand and patted it twice.

Blaise glanced around the room, picked up the scattered documents, and scanned them. Then, he placed one hand on the priest's shoulder and extended the other towards Milo.

A simple phone call could solve the problem of this persistent trouble, but looking at the old and ignorant priest, Milo ultimately handed the phone to Blaise and stood there stiffly.

Blaise patted the priest on the shoulder. The priest, gazing at the blurry figure of Milo before him, murmured, "'Son of God' was a piece of art specifically entrusted to me by Mr. Joshua. He explicitly instructed me to put it up for auction at the Captain's Dinner on August 15th. He particularly emphasized that Steven Thornton would definitely participate in the bidding, and that the final price must be driven up to over seven million dollars. If the auction is successful, Mr. Joshua has pledged to donate thirty percent of the final sale price to the Bethlehem."

Those words seemed to have been asked many times beforehand, and were now being uttered again.

Blaze sat in his chair, listening and flipping through the documents on the floor. He finally looked at Milo, pulled out his phone, and a photo of a confident and ostentatious Western elite man appeared on the screen.

Blaise gestured: Who is Joshua?

Milo smiled and shook his head, saying, "How would I know?"

Blaise continued gesturing: This was all the liquid cash Steven had in his personal account, and now, a single piece of jewelry could completely bankrupt him. Without this money, his activities at the hilltop villa in Wudong Harbor would essentially be declared bankrupt. The fact that Joshua was certain Steven would go to such lengths for a piece of jewelry showed how well he knew him.

Blaise continued his actions: "As for you, you've studied for four years, worked for two, and you've scoured every supplier company in the Daller Group and Thornton Group? But where did all your money go?"

Milo remained silent as Blaise's slow, gesturing questioning continued: "You're suspicious. The police, Miles, Steven, or this Joshua who suddenly appeared—everyone has some connection to you, but I don't want to guess whose side you're on anymore. I'm giving you one last chance. Tell me, who are you really?"

Their conversation took place in silence. Milo's gaze fell on Blaise's waist, unsure whether he was carrying a knife or a gun. Even if he wasn't carrying anything, he could strangle Blaise with his bare hands.

Milo took a deep breath and slowly said, "If I said I was Theo Green, would you believe me?"

The casual tone suggested it was yet another clumsy joke.

Father Ward was confused and shocked when he heard this.

Blaze jumped to his feet, visibly enraged. He stepped forward, grabbed Milo by the chin, lifted him up, and slammed him hard onto the cruise ship's deck.

Upon hearing the loud noise, the priest hurriedly stood up.

Blaise, however, grabbed Milo with one hand and opened the door with the other, pushing the priest out.

As the smart home assistant greeted them again, the room was closed and locked from the inside, leaving only the two of them inside.

Blaze gestured, his knuckles slicing fiercely across his face: Say that again, and I'll skin you alive.

"Why don't you just kill me like you did last time?" Milo chuckled. "You investigated so thoroughly, you're convinced I'm guilty, so why can't you bring yourself to do it?"

Blaise clenched his teeth, and veins bulged on his forehead.

Milo finally stopped pretending to be crazy or acting like a quail in front of him.

From their very first meeting at the funeral, he should have realized this was a cunning and almost frighteningly scheming person. Despite being utterly defenseless, this person dared to linger around him time and time again. Yet, he was repeatedly proven right by this cunning fox. Having already identified so many suspicious points, why did he let them slip by time and again?

Is it really just because of this face?

There were plenty of doubles who had infiltrated the scene more convincingly than the one before him, but Milo was just different. He repeatedly and precisely hit his weak points, yet promptly feigned weakness and flattery, leaving Milo defenseless. With each hesitation, Milo became more and more deeply entangled, unknowingly beginning to wonder who this person really was and what he truly wanted.

He heard the piano music, so he knew it was a coded signal for seduction. Just the last time they met, they were splattered with blood; now this guy dared to wait for him to come to his door—what was he planning to do…?

The more he couldn't find out, the angrier he became, his heart tightening as if he were suffocating.

Blaze then realized that in his desire to kill this despicable double, he had been seized by a fanatical and uncontrollable urge to possess it.

A hand slipped under Milo's lower back, and the instant it touched his skin, it felt like a caterpillar biting. Long, calloused fingers slid down, and Milo couldn't help but shiver.

Blaze paused deliberately for a second, as if waiting for Milo to confess something or beg for mercy. But Milo simply raised his sweat-drenched face, looking at him with slightly mocking eyes, as if scoffing that this was all the tricks he had up his sleeve. In the end, it was Blaze who found it increasingly difficult to calm down. He had never done such a thing before, nor had he ever even considered it, because even thinking about it required a specific target, and he would never imagine Theo Green being involved in such a situation.

Their breaths mingled, becoming indistinguishable. Milo's heart pounded rhythmically. He looked up and saw that Blaise's ear cartilage was completely red.

Milo braced himself up, wrapped his only free arm around Blaise's neck, and kissed him on the lips.

Blaze was taken aback and almost immediately pushed Milo away, pinning him to the bed.

Milo held his breath, his gaze shifting downwards, a half-smile playing on his lips.

Blaze's mind went blank for a few seconds before he grabbed Milo by the neck and kissed him.

One side was launching a strong attack, but there was no pleasure in plundering. Instead, the one being bullied was slowly being teased, until their breathing became disordered, their heart was anxious and their tongue was parched, and in the end they even bit the other's lips and tongue.

“If you’re in too much of a hurry, you’ll end up going too fast.” Milo was slightly out of breath. He glanced down at Blaise and then licked his bitten lip. “Do you like to bite people? It hurts too. Last time, and this time, it hurt a lot.”

Blaze endured the unfamiliar and stimulating reactions his body was experiencing, feeling that every word Milo spoke was agonizingly grating.

Milo raised the arm that had been striking the stone slab and said slowly, “That day, you set a trap to kill me, and I had to fight back to save my life. I wanted that invitation not to harm you, but because of Steven. There is something between him and me, but I can’t tell you what it is. That’s all I can say.”

Blaise calmed his breathing and looked at Milo, seemingly pondering the truth or falsehood in his words.

"If you don't believe me and insist on forcing me, I can obey you now, which is better than getting beaten up again. But if you believe me and let me go, we'll be even. From now on, just pretend I don't exist, and I won't bother you anymore, okay?"

Blaise grasped Milo's wrist and slowly shook his head.

The opening and closing of the lips are two silent words—

no.

After the failed conversation, Blaze lay down next to Milo.

In the agonizing silence, Milo could feel a finger slowly tracing along his spine, from his shoulder to his tailbone, finally hovering somewhere.

Milo rolled over, meeting those dark eyes. The scent disgusted him. He guessed that Blaze used incense to mask the smell when he did horrible things. The fragrance had seeped into his skin, a testament to his cruelty.

Milo was about to speak when Blaze suddenly pinched his cheek and made a gesture, meaning that Milo never spoke the truth, let alone anything nice, and he didn't want to hear it.

A hint of mockery flashed in Milo's eyes.

That look fell into Blaze's eyes. He suddenly flipped over, straddled Milo, and sat down on him, pinning him beneath him from above.

Milo's expression froze, unsure if the other party had changed their mind and was now planning to force themselves on him.

Blaise held a spent cartridge in his hand; the dangerous object seemed like a small toy to him.

Blaise calmly gestured: I've found the man who shot to protect you at the courier station.

When he suddenly mentioned Old Ruan, Milo immediately fell silent.

Blaise, however, seemed quite pleased with Milo's discomfiture: an illegal immigrant, a bodyguard? Too old, perhaps. More importantly, he's terminally ill.

The gesture sent a chill down Milo's spine. He hadn't realized Blaise's reconnaissance abilities were this strong. It seemed that if he released even the slightest hint of blood, Blaise would pounce on it like a shark, hunting across the ocean.

Blaise's gesture softened: He's so far away, he can't protect you. But you're here, you can protect him. You're smart enough to understand what I mean, right?

Milo fell silent and remained motionless.

That was a threat. It meant that if he offended him, Old Ruan would be in danger.

Seeing that Milo, who had been as hard as iron, had completely given in, Blaze felt relieved. He rolled over and lay flat on his back next to Milo.

Milo was about to turn over to sleep when Blaise coughed lightly.

So Milo turned back.

In the darkness, Milo could feel Blaise's steady, even breathing; it seemed he could easily suffocate him with a pillow. But he also knew that if he had even a shred of reason left, he couldn't do that—he had witnessed Blaise's methods before.

This brutal madman is like a primal beast; he could be torn to shreds at the slightest misstep.

He was indeed determined to take something from him, and no sacrifice was worthwhile until that goal was achieved. Milo was certain that once he succeeded, the exhilarating feeling would make him forget all the humiliation he had endured at this moment.

Until then, endure it, live on, forget what self-respect is, just live on.

It continued to ferment under the cold moonlight, as if it were about to devour him.

Milo didn't fall asleep until dawn. The discomfort forced him to stay awake. He tried to pretend to close his eyes when he felt the person next to him get up, but Blaze flipped him over.

Blaise gestured to him: "Go back to your room tonight, and you're not allowed to leave this room until we disembark. Understand?"

Milo blinked, which was taken as an agreement.

A fleeting hint of pleasure flashed in Blaise's eyes, which Milo keenly caught.

This is quite similar to Miles. Obedience makes them happy. No matter what skin they wear, these people are all the same. "Those who obey me prosper, those who defy me perish"—it's just a matter of gentleness versus cruelty.

Blaise gestured to Milo: Speak.

Milo gave a cold laugh, but still obediently opened his mouth: "I heard you."

After Blaise left, Milo noticed the time: 5:30 in the morning.

In other words, he only slept with Blaise fully clothed for three hours, but those three hours felt like an eternity.

Milo got up, walked through the corridor, pushed open the door, and came to the deck.

The salty sea breeze and water vapor hit us in the face.

A figure appeared on the otherwise deserted deck, and Milo slowly walked over.

The man was casting his fishing rod, legs crossed, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a half-empty bottle of Romanée-Conti dangling from his hand, looking completely relaxed.

Hearing a noise behind him, Steven flicked his cigarette ash, turned half his face, and squinted slightly. "Wearing that face and walking silently, you want to be a vengeful ghost?"

"Only those who have done wrong are afraid of being taken away."

"You're practically crippled from being fucked, so I advise you to watch your mouth." Steven glanced at Milo sideways. The man standing in the sea breeze resembled a delicate piece of white porcelain, inexplicably captivating. Steven looked away. "Let me tell you, I'll do anything, except men. I'm not interested in your two ounces of flesh."

Milo ignored Steven's insults, simply staring at the fishing rod in his hand and asking, "How can you catch fish without bait?"

“I asked someone the same question before, and I can’t remember what he said, but it was all nonsense.” Steven lazily looked at the rolling waves. “As for what I’m doing now, it’s because I’m not fishing for fish at all, I’m fishing for you.”

The sea breeze howled, and Milo quietly clenched his hands.

Steven turned half his face to look at Milo: "I've been waiting for you all night, little clone sheep."

Milo remained silent.

“I noticed it yesterday; you’ve been looking for an opportunity to talk to me. Don’t tell me you’re not trying to get information about Theo Green from me?” Steven handed the remaining half-bottle of wine to Milo. “I can fish for information, but without wine, I won’t take the bait.”

Milo took it and gulped it down. Just as he was about to take a second gulp, Steven snatched it away, saying disdainfully, "If you were really that guy, you'd be dead by now. Don't waste my good stuff."

As he spoke, Steven kicked over a stool, and Milo sat down.

"Does this look familiar?" Steven pulled out a black card from his fingertip and tossed it into Milo's arms.

That was the card Miles used to regularly deposit his living expenses. He hadn't been able to find it since the shop was vandalized. Now that he thought about it, the two spoiled brats he met outside the restaurant were probably Steven's men, and his shop was most likely vandalized by Steven's men as well.

“Miles took great care of you. It took me a lot of effort to get close to him. He opened a separate account and deposited money into it for six years to send you to study at Hong Kong University of Commerce. Everything was done to the best of his ability.”

Steven's words carried a hint of drunkenness. "Tell me, what a coincidence that the year Theo Green died, Miles was raising you, this little clone sheep? Mad Dog was indeed obsessed with Theo Green, but Miles had absolutely no connection with him, which is why I just can't figure it out. Mr. Milo, could you explain this to me?"

“Just a plaything. Mr. Thornton, do you really think I need to think about my own worth?”

The sea breeze ruffled his soft, black hair, and beneath his slightly fluttering eyelashes were his deep, bright eyes. Milo simply sat there in the wind, gazing silently into the distance, a scene of serene beauty like a mirage, reflecting a silhouette of his past.

In a daze, Steven had the illusion that his old friend was still in front of him.

Back then, he and Theo Green were classmates, ate and lived together, and were even forced to come to the Bethlehem during holidays. While the elders discussed business in their private cabins, he could only wait for Theo Green to pray, enduring all of this before he could enjoy a moment of sea fishing. Strangely enough, he and Theo Green were never on the same wavelength. He was annoyed by Theo Green's naive simplicity and never understood his own impatience, but somehow, he also found it amusing to toy with this pretty fool. Having him fish with him seemed to make the endurance worthwhile.

“Plaything…” Steven pondered the words, then suddenly laughed. “Well said. No matter how high you fly or how far you drift, you’re still just a plaything tied to someone’s hands.”

Milo looked at the half-drunk Steven and asked, "Did you come to Gan Valley to do business with them too?"

Steven's face, etched with the exhaustion of a hangover, was still clear in his eyes. He leaned forward, almost touching Milo's nose, and murmured, "Hey, don't cross the line. I'm only talking to you about Theo Green."

Milo raised his lips, a mocking look in his eyes, and turned his head away, seemingly completely uninterested in Theo Green.

Seeing his reaction, Steven frowned. Milo's smile was nothing like Theo Green's. Milo's smile concealed worldliness, cunning, and self-deprecation, all of which were seriously contrary to the main character's persona.

Clearly, it was not a good cloned sheep.

“Milo, it’s not money you want, is it the Dale Group’s business?” Steven exhaled, but it was a gentle murmur. “Now I understand why they kept you here. Ambitious and mysterious people are always particularly interesting. Now I really want to see you continue playing this game for a long, long time.”

"Let me give you a piece of advice: don't get involved in this mess. With Miles protecting you, you can at least be an innocent plaything. Otherwise, like the Green family, *snap*, you'll be wiped out."

"Can I take that as an implication that the Green family's plane crash wasn't an accident?" Milo's gaze followed Steven's figure.

Steven had already sprawled to his feet. He pointed at Milo's face and said drunkenly, "We should be disembarking by this time tomorrow... If you really have the guts to know how the Green family went bankrupt, and what that mad dog is up to, just take a look at tonight's show and you'll know."

Milo frowned slightly: "A fashion show?"

Steven smiled and said, "I remember, it starts at three in the morning."

“But I bet Miles will stop you.” Steven turned around and smiled at Milo. “He won’t let you see any of that rubbish.”