ice cubes

Glenn scoffed, "Stop glorifying yourself! You've only ever used me as a tool. If you truly considered me a partner, why did you reject all my suggestions? I've put in so much effort! You have no idea how much energy I had to expend to keep this secret for you? For your revenge, I had to be at your beck and call, to act in front of the whole world! Admit it, admit you're just enjoying the fact that you think you're the smartest and most arrogant person in the world! You're not that great at all!"

After saying all the things that had been weighing on his mind, Glenn suddenly felt a great sense of relief.

As a mere signatory, he never had any real decision-making power. Research and development direction, mergers and acquisitions, executive appointments and dismissals… every decision and direction affecting the company had to be approved by Milo.

Sometimes, Glenn would gaze at this unreal commercial building and contemplate his double life. By day, he basked in the flattery of others amidst the glitz and glamour, but by night, he would return home and report every detail to Milo on his computer.

Separated by distance, Glenn silently watched Milo on the other end of the computer, holed up in a small, run-down shop, his face haggard and weary, calmly instructing him on every step of the way. A strong sense of resentment would rise within him.

They studied at the same school and in the same major; he was even a more outstanding international exchange student! The fundamental difference between him and Milo in getting to where they are today is that he lacks a pair of renowned parents. If he also had Milo's 600 million trust fund, this Green Deed should belong entirely to him.

“Well said, but let me remind you, there was an automatic termination clause in the agreement we signed at the beginning. Once you attempt to transfer the shares or change the registration, our nominee shareholding relationship will terminate immediately. So, it's not that I forced you, you've walked down a dead end yourself.”

Milo's words struck Glenn's back with a chilling force. He was the person in the world who understood Milo's ruthless side better than anyone else. Judging from Milo's decisive and ruthless methods, he would never hesitate when it came to matters of vital interest. It was precisely because of this that Glenn was determined to carve out a way out for himself.

Unfortunately, he failed.

With things having come to this, Glenn abandoned any thought of begging for mercy and became ruthless: "But your act of concealing your identity as the actual controller is illegal! If I don't agree, how will you get your shares back? Perhaps I will report you!"

“Did Miles teach you to threaten me like this? You think you can turn the tables like this?” Milo’s lips curled into a sneer. “From the moment you signed that agreement, Frostraven Bank’s encrypted account has held evidence of every illicit transaction you made during the nominee period. If I hand it over to the anti-money laundering bureau, do you think you’ll be detained first, or I’ll lose my shares first? What’s more…” Milo picked up a document from the table, “Article 17 of the agreement clearly states that any unilateral threat will trigger a tenfold penalty clause. Your villa, yacht, and even your parents’ trust account will be transferred to my offshore liquidation fund within three days.”

Glenn's face turned pale instantly.

“Greed isn’t wrong, stupidity is.” Milo leaned closer and said coldly, “Of course, I can offer you another option: sign this equity transfer agreement. You should be glad that I still need a respectable story about Joshua Glenn having a sudden heart attack and leaving the company to appease the corporate committee.”

Glenn remained silent. Every word Milo uttered was a profound insult, yet he knew he was powerless to resist. He looked up at the gentle yet cold-blooded man, gritted his teeth, and forced out, "How much hush money are you going to give me?"

“Glenn, you’re so naive. Miles just talked, and you jumped right into his trap. We could have lived peacefully together, and you could have even continued living with that CEO aura. Unfortunately, you chose the wrong side.” A hint of contempt flashed in Milo’s eyes. “Now, you have no cards to play. What do you have to negotiate with me?”

Glenn's face twisted in anger; he remained silent, glaring at him.

"Keep quiet, fine. Maybe I should go ask that Aoi-ta."

Glenn cried out, "Don't hurt him!"

Milo silently gazed at Glenn.

He seemed so affectionate, but after acting so much, he even fooled himself.

"He knows nothing! It was all one-sided on my part that I liked him! I haven't told him a single word about us!"

"Then tell me where you got the drugs. Maybe I'll consider letting your mistress go."

Glenn's face turned pale, and after a long while, he suddenly burst out laughing.

“Milo, do you know why Green Pact was able to obtain the accreditation of Frostlaven Medical School so quickly? It’s not because you’re so rich, but because of your identity, because your father is friends with the dean of the medical school! You don’t know this, do you? When your father was pursuing his doctorate, he was already researching the plants of Gan Valley. He brought in Katongye! He had planned to make this bio-element for a long time, so the tragedy of your family was not a setup at all, and your father was not innocent at all!”

Milo's mind went blank, and a strong sense of disgust welled up inside him: "What nonsense are you talking about!"

"I know who you are. You're the ghost who should have died! So what if you have hundreds of millions in assets? You've already lost the identity you wanted most. I know what you've gone through all this trouble to get! You want to take back your father's patent, you want the patent rights to the bio-based active ingredient back in your hands! But you can't do it, can you?"

“You think you know a lot about the law? Then you should know better than me that with Theo Green dead, you have no right to inherit. You think Miles and the people from Gangu conspired to steal your family’s research patent? No, that’s not it! That patent had two names on it from the beginning. Your father had a close friend when he was studying at Frostraven. Guess who that person is? You actually know that person.”

Glenn suddenly laughed, and said in a chilling tone, "Suma Natawa."

Milo's face suddenly turned pale.

"In other words, the person who inherited this research patent has always been by your side. He legally possesses what you've always dreamed of, and all their pharmaceutical products are legal and compliant. On the contrary, only you! Only you are the illegitimate entity!"

Glenn chuckled sinisterly, “Go ahead and try to trick him! Threaten him, entice him, see if he’ll transfer the patent rights to you! Oh? Sorry, I forgot, your current legal status is Frostraven citizenship. It’s clearly stated in Lanman’s patent law that a foreigner like you can never get a patent transfer!”

Glenn leaned against the wall, smugly enjoying Milo's defeat: "Milo, you know what? You're not the center of this world either."

*

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, snowflakes drifted down. Inside, only the fireplace projector light shone, casting a flickering image of flames on Blaise's chin. Blaise leaned back on the sofa, a fresh wound on the back of his hand scabbed over, watching television quietly.

The large-screen TV was showing a newly released gay romance film with restricted themes, and many scenes were deliberately filmed in a sensational and erotic style.

Blaise stared blankly until the image stopped at a certain frame, at which point he pressed the pause button.

Blaise had seen this kind of thing too many times on the Bethlehem runway. Most of the time, it was wild and unrestrained, but the people who were subjected to it never resisted. Over time, he also felt that it was probably best to do it as wildly as possible.

But clearly, this is a skill. Sometimes, being considerate of the other person's feelings seems essential. Just like how he learned sign language to communicate with Milo, he felt he needed to study it carefully.

Blaze pressed the rewind button, the video replayed, and as he watched, he frowned again.

He roughly understood some of the techniques, but... what was the purpose of the string of beads? If he did that, would Milo bite him to death?

Hearing the sound of the card being swiped, Blaise turned off the TV, and his heart skipped a beat—a rare occurrence for him.

Milo took off his snow-covered camel coat, not expecting anyone to be in the house. He took out an ice cube tray from the refrigerator, intending to make a glass of ice water. Before he finished, he saw Blaise, wearing a black turtleneck sweater, walk over and sit down across the long table.

Milo was preoccupied with something on his mind.

Blaze silently watched Milo's hand movements, then gestured: Is everything resolved?

"It's solved." Milo felt he had never been so tired.

Glenn's words did indeed break down his defenses. Milo realized that Miles had not only taught Glenn how to set up a scheme, but also how to win people's hearts. Miles had known about the relationship between Richard Green and Suma Natawa from the beginning, which meant that there must have been another secret behind the plane crash.

Does Blaise know about this? Does he know that Suma earned her doctorate at the Frostlake Medical School? Why would a medical doctor who intended to build a factory in the Gan Valley turn around and become Tate Dahl's mistress?

Milo stared at Blaise, slightly lost in thought. He took the ice and walked over to Blaise.

Blaise's silent glance at Milo broke the safe distance between them.

"Don't move," Milo said softly.

Blaze paused for two seconds, then quickly leaned in, looking ready to be picked.

“Gary will be staying here to manage the company for me. I have to go back to Wanyang. What about you, when are you planning to leave?”

Blaise gestures: Tomorrow.

"So urgent? Did Xigong tell you to go back?"

Milo's mind worked quickly. Since the cooperation with Green Pact was a trap, then Sigon had no choice but to cooperate with Miles. To build roads and open transport lines, Sigon had killed Meng Sha, so things must be quite chaotic by now. Blaise was probably going back to deal with those matters.

Blaise nodded, not denying it.

Milo softened his voice: "Gangu doesn't have an airport. If you land, you can only land in Tengbang. You've offended so many people, it's not safe to enter the country directly. If you'd like, Green Contract has a private jet. You can come with me to Wanyang, and then return to Gangu from Wanyang."

Blaze looked up and gazed silently at Milo.

Back in Sullair, even though Milo was dissatisfied with Glenn, he was actually speaking up for him. Now, Milo has offered to travel with him. Although this idea is a bit naive—he always parachutes to the designated location halfway through his missions, so safety isn't really an issue—Milo is, in any case, considering his safety upon landing.

Things are different now.

Some things seem to be starting to change.

The ice began to melt under the scorching body heat, water trickling down to her lips. Blaze suddenly turned her head, took the ice in her mouth, and held it against her oral cavity, her tongue sliding across Milo's palm.

Moist and itchy.

Milo alertly withdrew his hand.

Just as he was about to leave, Blaise gestured that he would stop doing it that way, but that he needed to rub it a little more.

Seeing the scabs on his finger bones, Milo took a step back and went to get some ice to apply.

“I’ll be very busy after I get back to Wanyang. It’s normal if I don’t contact you, don’t panic. As for that promise, I will keep it. I have no interest in sleeping with just anyone.”

As they talked, out of Milo's sight, Blaze's eyes suddenly softened.

The volume of the ice cubes is actually about the same as the large-diameter beads in the movie... and it seems to melt into a puddle of water more easily.

Milo looked down and saw Blaze casually stroking his elbow. A quick glance revealed that Blaze's earlobe was burning red.

Milo quickly realized what was going on and traced his finger around Blaise's Adam's apple: "What are you thinking?"

Blaze lowered his gaze and casually put his arm around Milo's waist. For some reason, he suddenly thought of Milo flying freely on the ski slopes.

Through the soft cashmere sweater, the smooth, flat lower back felt warm and delicate, and further ahead was a firm, flat abdomen with subtle undulations.

Looking up and seeing that face, Blaze suddenly felt very happy.

If Milo hadn't cut his hand, and with more physical training, he wouldn't be so weak. Blaise thought that when they got back, he would not only teach Milo how to shoot, but also teach him self-defense skills. He wanted Milo to become stronger and stronger, to shine brightly wherever he went.

“Aren’t you very capable? Why didn’t you fight back when those people like Sule insulted you?” Milo’s voice was tinged with mockery. “Don’t tell me it was for my sake.”

Blaise tilted his head slightly and gestured: What do you take me for? A serial killer?

Milo was taken aback by the question.

Blaise continued, "I didn't like what he said, but it was the truth. Why should I kill him just because he said a few harsh words? I didn't retaliate because he couldn't understand my sign language, and I'd never see him again. So why should I feel satisfied only through revenge? I'm not that insecure. I may not be as smart as you, but I'm not brainless; I can make judgments."

Blaise looked calmly at Milo, his gestures slowing: "Perhaps I should ask you. What kind of person am I in your heart?"

Milo's chest heaved inexplicably.

He suddenly realized, belatedly, that his thinking had become increasingly skewed. He had begun to be unable to accept the delayed rewards of forbearance, and he was fascinated by the feeling of seeking revenge and acting on the spot. Ultimately, this was the nourishment of power, and he even sought shortcuts in his revenge.

As for that question... Milo discovered that Blaise had always been a vague figure to him.

Whether he was a killing machine, a paranoid man obsessed with himself, or a puppet he had painstakingly cultivated and tamed, he never truly regarded Blaise as a living, breathing human being.

Therefore, he had no intention of exploring Blaise's past, nor did he want to understand his personality and preferences. Naturally, he felt that Blaise was just an empty shell parasitizing him, intellectually barren, or even devoid of thought.

But Blaise's words just now left Milo in a state of unprecedented confusion.

Although it was absurd, Milo realized for the first time that Blaise was a living, breathing person.

This discovery terrified him.

It was pure, unadulterated fear.

If Blaise is a person with feelings and warmth, rather than a despicable, simple-minded villain, then what difference is there between what he did to him and what to Miles did? He was not only abusing his feelings, but also denying his personality.

When did he become so terrifying?

Blaise moved slowly: Do you like me?

Milo felt a lump in his throat, and even his brows furrowed.

Uncharacteristically, Blaise refused to give up and persistently asked one more time: Did you ever like me?

Milo lowered his eyes, his heart churning, then raised his head, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

"I like it. Of course I like it."

Blaise's eyes flickered slightly. He rose from his chair, leaned over Milo, reached for a bottle of red wine, and grabbed the remaining box of ice as well.

Milo turned to grab a wine glass, but Blaze stopped him, putting his free hand around Milo's waist and leading him to the sofa in the living room.

The cashmere carpet was soft, and the clear glass windows reflected all the images clearly.

Milo was pushed to sit on the sofa. He was clearly conscious, but his mind seemed numb. He could only watch helplessly as Blaise knelt on the carpet, picking up a piece of ice with his fingertips and putting it in his mouth.

The sensation of being torn between ice and fire sent shivers down Milo's spine, and he gripped the back of the sofa tightly.

Blaise served with great patience, head bowed.

Milo felt as if he had been evaporated, turning into a cloud of mist, drifting aimlessly with nowhere to go.

Having clearly sensed this and observed his own body's reaction, Milo suddenly realized that neither his body nor his consciousness rejected Blaise's touch.

A surge of intense pleasure, shame, and pain washed over him, and Milo suddenly felt a sense of panic, as if he had betrayed himself.

Blaze swallowed, his feverish heart melting at the sight of the moisture in Milo's eyes. He leaned forward and kissed away the tears that were about to fall.

Milo remained frozen in that position, glancing out of the corner of his eye at himself reflected in the French windows, when some past memories suddenly flashed back.

Is the person in the mirror him?

Can he really still be Theo Green?

His face had been surgically altered to resemble six-tenths of his original appearance, so every time he looked in the mirror, he felt like he was looking at a ghost, and felt utterly disgusted.

But he didn't even have the right to refuse to see that face.

Every time he was forced to see his own face, he was pinned down in a humiliating position. He thought, after all, a person is nothing more than a lump of rotten flesh, and sex is nothing more than poking and prodding, stimulating the nerves.

But only now did Milo finally realize that he couldn't actually imagine what real sex felt like. If it couldn't be used for exchange, and wasn't for a specific purpose, then what was the point of him doing it?

Blaise gently kissed Milo's cheek, tenderly soothing every inch of his face, patiently calming all his anxieties and fears.

Milo closed his eyes and, amidst immense psychological torment, reached out and wrapped his arms around Blaise's neck.

No longer taking initiative out of fear probably means he's let go of the part of himself that cries out for sovereignty. Perhaps deep down there's something he's unwilling to acknowledge, something that keeps reminiscing about the days before his family was destroyed and he was loved unconditionally by many people.

He might not have reluctantly lay down just to please, but rather because he longed for someone to completely penetrate him, to envelop him, to create a shell like spinning silk in a cocoon, so that he could simply crawl inside and enjoy the warmth without thinking about or caring about anything else.

The pain prevented him from losing himself, so he always wanted and needed Blaze to pinch and bite him while he was doing it, because it was a form of punishment.

But Blaze didn't like that... Ironically, someone who is usually so violent doesn't like being tyrannical in this matter. Blaze only does it because he's required to.

Amidst the turbulent sea of ​​desire and utter chaos, Milo managed to grasp a sliver of clarity in the midst of this extreme elusiveness. He grabbed Blaise's hair, lifted his face to face with his own, and whispered in his ear in an extremely soft and ticklish voice.

"If you really like me that much, then would you be willing to give me anything I want?"

Blaise, his face glistening with sweat, nodded firmly.

Milo laughed, but didn't say anything more.

The red wine was poured, flowing down from the collarbone, down the chest line, and then disappearing silently.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Christmas bells rang slowly amidst the swirling snow.