funeral

A cold rain fell all night in Wudong Port, and a layer of mist shrouded the French windows, with faint handprints and dripping water droplets, as if the breaths from not long ago were still lingering in one's ears.

As the sound of rain in the bathroom gradually subsided, Milo turned over, picked up the bathrobe by the bed, and wrapped himself up completely.

A face was reflected in the window mirror.

His temples were damp with sweat, his face was flushed, and his expression was somewhat blank.

"Won't you take a nap?" The sound of water subsided, and footsteps approached, bringing with them a fresh scent of soap.

"It's almost dawn."

In the past, Miles would leave as soon as it was light. According to the default practice, he also had to tidy himself up and leave neatly.

"Why the long face?" Miles slowly walked up to Milo, his long, slender fingers gently pulling open the collar of his bathrobe to reveal a patch of mottled red marks. "Are you unhappy?"

Milo shook his head.

Miles was a man who rarely indulged in desires. Although he was surprised by the sudden urge, he had no right to refuse it, let alone express his personal dissatisfaction. That was not something he should say.

Miles flicked his fingertips lightly across Milo's chin, without lingering.

“Come here, let’s get to know someone.” Miles sat down and handed Milo a brown paper bag.

Milo opened it; inside was a card and a stack of documents. The money in the card was for him to spend, as usual, no need to ask. Milo quickly scanned the documents, a puzzled look on his face: "Who is he?"

The document contained only information about a man, a rough outline of his life, hobbies, and habits, but no name, along with a photograph. The man in the photograph had his chin tucked in and a tattoo on his neck.

“I’ll introduce you to each other later,” Miles replied vaguely. “There’s no rush. I’ll make arrangements once you’re ready.”

Milo remained silent. It was the standard introduction for a client. It sounded like he was being sold off cheaply.

“Don’t overthink it. I told you we’re just acquaintances.” Miles pinched Milo’s chin. “This guy is hard to approach. He’s caused me a lot of trouble. Maybe you can help me out of this predicament. For him, you’re the most suitable person.”

The most suitable candidate?

These ambiguous words resurfaced in Milo's mind with the sudden rumble of thunder. He steadied himself and realized that he had been standing on the porch for quite some time.

Several luxury cars snaked past and glided into the upscale funeral home. The people who got out of the cars were dressed in suits with white flowers on their chests, and their shiny leather shoes stepped on the shallow puddles, indicating their wealthy and noble status.

The person in charge of Longjin Financial Health is dead.

At the age of seventy, he had an excessive sexual encounter with two voluptuous young women and died in a very undignified manner.

In recent years, Wudong Port has undergone a major reshuffle, with some companies collapsing like a house of cards, while others have sprung up like mushrooms after rain. Dale's family business is one such example.

The awkward thing is that in Wudong Port, a place where all sorts of people mingle and various forces are mixed and infiltrated, it is hard to say whether Long Jinrong Jian is clean or not. In addition, with the recent news flying around, several vicious fights have been linked to Long Jinrong Jian, which has obviously aroused the dissatisfaction of many people.

Many people speculated that perhaps it was because of this concern that Miles Daller, who always acted cleanly and decisively, did not want to tarnish his life record, and thus severed ties with the Daller family early on to start his own business.

Milo suddenly thought of Miles's always somewhat melancholy face.

As the only son of Long Jin Jian, wouldn't he be tempted by such a large family business? I'm afraid he would be tempted, but also have some worries.

Since giving him a baffling task last time, Miles has disappeared without a trace. It's been almost a month since they last met, and Miles often forgets about him when he's busy.

I wonder if I'll run into him here today.

Just as Milo was pondering this, two men wearing ties and hairspray under the eaves offered each other a cigarette.

In the swirling mist, they didn't see Milo standing in the corner of the corridor.

"Do you think Miles will come to carry the coffin now that old Dale is gone?"

“How can a son not come to his father’s funeral? I’m counting on showing my face in front of him today, making an impression, so I can get some equipment from him in the future.”

"Didn't you see the Thornton family outside? They're clearly going to cause trouble, and you still want to show your face?" A low chuckle followed. "Not to mention the police...tsk, I don't think things will be peaceful today."

"Don't you think old Daller's death was too risky? Right after the Thornton family's shop was vandalized. With these two incidents happening one after the other, don't you think there might be some conspiracy involved?" One person lowered their voice. "The one who did it was Blackie. Wasn't he always doing the Daller family's dirty work? My men got wind of it; they said Blackie would be showing up today. Could it be to avenge old Daller..."

Shh! Are you crazy? Saying that!

The two quickly stopped talking, as it seemed too dangerous to continue the topic, and after looking around, they walked away one after the other.

Milo, who had overheard the conversation, was a little annoyed and cautiously looked around.

Two white sedans stood out abruptly among the luxury cars parked at the main entrance. A tall, upright young man was standing beside one of the cars, talking to someone. A group of plainclothes white men were also gathered not far away.

That's why they say a policeman is a policeman; they're upright and can't be hidden in a crowd.

Milo was a little annoyed and made a phone call.

The young man in the black suit who was speaking in the distance answered the phone.

“You’ve been recognized,” Milo said in a low voice.

“These people are quick with their information.” Jesse turned around, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, precisely locking onto Milo’s position, and gave him a bright smile. “But I wasn’t planning on playing hide-and-seek with these people anyway. Who knows what might happen at this chaotic funeral? We were originally sent by our superiors to check the situation and maintain stability.”

Milo felt a little more at ease.

“Things haven’t been peaceful lately, so you’d better be careful,” Jesse laughed. “If something really happens, I won’t be able to take care of you.”

The two exchanged barbs, which somehow dispelled the gloom brought on by the funeral.

The rain showed no signs of stopping, and more and more people were gathering inside. Milo looked up and realized it was almost time; as a staff member, he should go in and prepare.

"The person you mentioned... will they really come today?" Milo stood there like a madman, looking at everyone until his eyes were blurry. He felt like all the important faces in Wudong Port were here, but even with such a close stare, he couldn't spot his target.

"We're not sure, it's just a possibility. It's okay if you don't come, just consider it as coming to collect a day's wages."

Jesse made it sound easy, but Milo felt a lot of pressure being a double agent.

To be honest, his first meeting with Jesse wasn't exactly pleasant, but once they got past that initial hurdle, they naturally became close friends.

Lanman has experienced rapid economic development in recent years, but its population is highly mixed. Even in the emerging city of Wudong Port, ethnic tensions persist, with people of all races, from prominent business figures in the Federal Government to members of gangs and ordinary citizens, their skin color naturally dividing them into groups.

Jesse was the same age as him and they both happened to be from the capital, Wanyang. By chance, coupled with their compatible values ​​and similar interests, they gradually became close friends.

One day after dinner, Jesse asked him for a favor with a grin.

When asked what the favor was, Jesse hesitated. But when he spoke, it was shocking. Jesse wanted to recruit him as an undercover police officer.

Milo stared at the photo Jesse handed him and realized that the undercover target was the very person Miles had mentioned earlier, the one he was told to get to know.

Fearing that Milo would refuse outright, Jesse quickly gave him a rough outline.

Wudong Port is a city that Lanman is focusing on developing, and it receives generous policy support. In the medical industry, it can be divided into three parts: one part belongs to Dale, one part to Thornton, and the other is shared by others. The two giants appear to be working hand-in-hand, but behind the scenes, they are constantly engaging in underhanded maneuvers; if they were to truly clash, a violent brawl would be inevitable.

The most outrageous incident recently involved the Daller family smashing up a valuable shop belonging to the Thornton family, nearly causing a fire on the entire street. The perpetrator, known in the underworld as Rye, whose real name is unknown, has become a prime target for police surveillance.

As for why he was certain that Milo could be the undercover agent, Miles posed a riddle, but Jesse revealed the answer to him.

"You look like him, at least six-tenths like him!" Jesse's words carried a hint of wistful longing.

Jesse told him that this rye had no trace of his origins, his background, his qualifications, or his methods of doing things; he was as slippery as an eel. The only clue was a quirk that was widely known on the streets.

It's said that this person has a particular fondness for a certain type of appearance. An informant, whose appearance matched this person's preferences, even managed to provide the police with some useful information. Unfortunately, the old body double disappeared before finishing his work, and the police urgently need to find a new one.

Back then, Jesse held up a photo of his informant next to Milo's face, marveling at how fate had brought this together.

Jesse patiently guided her, drawing five fingers to imply the reward.

Milo agreed.

Unexpectedly, the undercover work was unusually easy. Normally, he only needed to be a hands-off manager, but it took almost half a month before Jesse let him take action.

Would a mysterious and unpredictable killer really make a grand entrance at the funeral parlor?

Milo wasn't sure how accurate the news was either, so he hung up Jesse's call and went into the inner room.

Jesse found him a job that would allow him to legitimately sneak into the Dalle family funeral. The job was simple: cleaning and tidying up, plus he could earn two hundred dollars on the side.

The interior was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the scent of incense and rain. The inner hall was exceptionally spacious and well-connected, with wreaths for remembrance placed on both sides.

Old Dale, who had died, had not yet been put in a coffin. He was only covered with a white cloth and lay peacefully in the coffin, though there was an unpleasant smell in the summer.

The wealthy have a particular fondness for this feudal remnant: instead of cremating the dead, they go up the mountain to find a sacred burial site and return to simplicity by carrying a coffin and holding a funeral procession.

Milo was cleaning the coffin, and kneeling on a cushion next to him was a woman with slender legs and a bright red four-petaled flower tattoo on her ankle. Her cries were rhythmic.

This was one of Old Dale's mistresses. The old man's first wife passed away early, and he had three or four concubines before and after, but this one stayed the longest.

After listening to the crying for a while, Milo was also a little tormented. He made an excuse to change the ashes in the furnace and slacked off in the storage room for a long time. When he came back, the mourning hall was empty.

A three-fold pear wood screen curtain blocked the coffin, and the ground was covered with prayer mats.

Milo was about to put down the stove and leave when a muffled groan suddenly pierced his eardrums. His mind went blank for a moment, and by the time he realized what the sound was, it was too late.

Behind the coffin in the mourning hall was a small compartment, originally intended for family members to keep vigil and take a nap. But now, it was being banged on and on, and with a creak, the hidden door was forced open.

Milo was stuck, with only a screen in front of the coffin. He squeezed into the middle of the screen, clutching the incense burner.

Through the peephole of the screen, a slender leg and a pair of brown leather shoes quickly came into view, the ankle resting against the man's hip, the fiery red flower tattoo appearing even more alluring.

Milo could never forget the woman's voice; it belonged to the mistress who had cried at the funeral.

Milo looked up at the sky, but there was nothing to see. He then looked down at the ground and endured the entire ordeal.

"Stop fooling around." The battle ended, and the woman's voice rang out.

"What did I do to you?" The man's voice was trembling with hunger.

As he spoke, the man lowered his hand, revealing a tattoo pattern on the back of his hand, while the other half was hidden in the sleeve of his suit jacket, its full appearance obscured.

Milo's heart skipped a beat.

"The old man is dead, haven't you thought about going with his son?" The man's voice carried a hint of contempt and mockery. "I've heard that the Dale family has no morals, maybe Miles would be willing to keep you."

"You're really shameless." The woman didn't seem angry. "But, compared to him, I like you more."

The man snorted, seemingly pleased: "Just watch, they won't be able to run rampant for long."

Milo was forced to eavesdrop, and he was already in a state of panic, but it seemed that fate always felt his life wasn't funny enough, and added fuel to the fire at the crucial moment.

The narrow folds of the screen can cause friction noise when breathing.

The adulterous man sensed something was amiss and immediately stopped talking. He asked the woman a question, but received no response. After carefully listening to the sounds, the man walked step by step toward the screen covered by a white cloth.

Milos was sweating profusely.

Just as the lover's hand was about to touch the curtain, a burst of laughter came from the doorway, and the man withdrew his hand at the woman's repeated urging.

Milo's heart is temporarily at peace.

With a creak, the door was pushed open, revealing a large group of people standing in front. Leading the group was Miles, dressed in a navy blue suit. Someone was pinning a white flower to his eye; he seemed to have just come from work, looking travel-worn and not having had time to change into a black suit.

Miles' expression was very serious, and his demeanor was completely different from what Milo usually saw; it was chillingly cold.

Milo glanced over; the adulterous couple was nowhere to be seen. They'd probably gone back to their cubicle. He was in dire straits himself and couldn't afford to worry about others. He absolutely couldn't be caught red-handed by such a large group of people; not only would he be unable to explain himself to Miles, but he might also get Jesse into trouble.

Perhaps because everyone had arrived, this group of people entered one after another, and the people who were doing the preparations also began to come on stage.

Behind the screen was the employee passageway, and the sound of synchronized footsteps gradually drew closer.

Milo, quick-witted, seized the opportunity to slip out from behind the screen, quickly squeezed into the line of employees, and took a colleague's arm as they walked forward with their heads down.

Fortunately, Miles didn't even notice this insignificant person.

"I'm sorry." Having escaped, Milo came to his senses and tried to explain to the person next to him, but received no response.

Milo quickly realized something was wrong.

A strange fragrance wafted into my nostrils. It was a very special scent, somewhat like sandalwood, but not as strong, with a touch of exoticism.

It took Milo a while to realize that the fragrance was coming from nearby.

The person he was standing next to was extremely tall. His forearms were as stiff as steel bars, and although he was wearing the same work clothes as him, his build was vastly different.

Milo's gaze shifted upwards, and a small section of thorny tattoo on the man's neck caught his eye.

A thought snapped in Milo's mind, and he almost immediately let go of her hand, instinctively creating a safe distance.

The rain, which had stopped for a long time, started again. A cold raindrop fell into Milo's eye, and the face on the tattoo quickly became blurred.

In just a few seconds, when Milo tried to look again, the person had already vanished.