cage
The villa's doors and windows were tightly shut, and heavy curtains blocked out all light, leaving the interior dark and deathly silent.
Blaise dragged over a high-backed chair and sat down in silence. He lowered his eyes and used the sharp blade to peel the pear in his hand.
The thin, cicada-wing-like fruit peel was steadily pulled into a long, continuous spiral by his wrist, silently piling up at his feet.
On the pristine white carpet, Milo leaned against the cold wall, his hands tightly bound behind his back by rough curtain cords. He tilted his head back, his gaze lingering on the shadows of the ceiling for a long time before slowly shifting down to Blaise's expressionless face: "It seems we'll never be able to have a proper conversation."
Blaise remained completely still.
“Blaze,” Milo struggled to open his heavy eyelids, “don’t you want to know how Suma Natawa died?”
Blaze jerked his wrist, the fruit peel snapping in two and falling to the ground in half, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force. He jerked his head up, his unfathomable black eyes reflecting shock for the first time.
Milo made up his mind and continued, "Your mother and father graduated with medical doctorates in the same year. They wanted to partner up to develop a bio-element and build a factory. So it wasn't Tate Daller and Bobby Thornton who dragged my father into this; they were the ones who were used. But this partnership offended people. As soon as Suma died, Tate Daller and Bobby Thornton started targeting my father. They were quick and ruthless enough that if I hadn't survived, this secret would have remained buried forever."
“Suma died from a drug injection, but there was no evidence of long-term drug use before her death. That one overdose took her life. Don’t you want to know who wanted to kill her?”
Blaze's face darkened, and he looked down at Milo with a chilling gaze.
Milo gave a chilling, almost imperceptible laugh, his voice as soft as a sigh: "Sometimes, I wonder, are you really stupid, or are you just pretending?"
“Back when I first went to Gangu with you, I discovered that Suma’s factory had been restarted. Later, when Xigong wanted to build a road, you accidentally killed Mengtuo. This move not only directly promoted the road construction but also unexpectedly gave Penglasong a big gift. Miles’s transportation company immediately took advantage of the situation and, under Penglasong’s protection, openly resumed manufacturing pharmaceuticals. In this way, they became completely tied to Xigong.”
"As for Miles? Do you really think he's just a businessman? His personal relationship with the Pengla Song and Mengtuo Mengsha brothers is nothing new. He knows that Pengla Song wants to curry favor with the warlords, so he will inevitably force Xigong to take the initiative to go up the mountain to crack down on drugs, with the aim of taking the opportunity to swallow up Mengsha's territory. Whether I was there or not, that anti-drug operation was destined to happen. So, you are not a savior hero at all; you are just a knife they happened to use."
"The most notorious drug lord on Mount Chira has been wiped out. Pom La Song and the general behind him will naturally gain a lot of political capital, but what about Xigong? He suffered a great loss. There has to be a trade, right? How do you think that general will compensate Xigong for his losses?"
"Medicine always follows the disease. What does a low-addiction painkiller that is about to be released need most? Guess what? Will Teng Bang appear to be cracking down on drugs on the surface, but secretly let drugs spread like wildfire? What legal new drugs will be snapped up and sold out?"
Blaze stopped what he was doing, and pear juice dripped down the tip of the knife in his hand.
"Blaze, this game has spanned more than a decade, and in essence, it's a meticulously planned deal between them and the political establishment. The Natawa family has been sitting at the table the whole time, except for you. Only you thought you were helping Gan Gu escape poverty and eradicating drugs for the common people."
"Have you ever considered what kind of person would forbid a child from studying? You probably don't even believe in that bullshit Snake-Headed Buddha's teachings, do you? Apa is not even ten years old, and in a few years he'll be going up the mountain to learn how to kill with a gun. His future is crystal clear: he'll grow up like you, treated as a mindless killing machine, and who knows when he'll die somewhere on Mount Chira. I don't know how your place got to this point, but I do know one thing: Sigon Natawa wants to be the true emperor, and anyone who stands in his way will die."
Blaze's palms clenched tighter and tighter, the peeling blade gradually embedding itself in his palms, dripping blood mixed with pear juice onto the ground.
Milo held his breath and finished speaking: "One is your brother, the other is your uncle. One of them must have killed your mother. Now, are you sure you want to waste your time here with me pointlessly?"
After a long silence, Blaise slowly raised his hand, his sign language stiff and heavy: I'm useless to you now, aren't I?
Milo remained silent.
Blaise continued signing, with an almost self-destructive calm: "I know that cop has been waiting outside since last night. He can get you exonerated; he can support you with his family. So, compared to him, I'm useless, aren't I?"
Milo lowered his eyes slightly, his thick eyelashes casting small shadows on his pale face: "You know what the answer is."
Blaze lowered his eyes, stood up from his chair, his tall figure exuding a suffocating sense of oppression as he walked step by step toward Milo, who was bound in the corner.
Milo clearly saw the emotions surging in Blaise's eyes: pain, anger, despair at being betrayed, and a near-destructive madness that he couldn't understand.
Blaze stopped in front of Milo, the shadow completely enveloping him. He didn't untie the ropes, nor did he make any further gestures. He simply leaned down, roughly gripping Milo's chin with one hand, forcing him to tilt his head back.
The next second, a rough kiss pressed down on him.
Milo's pupils suddenly contracted, and a sharp pain shot through his lips. Blaze had bitten his lower lip with his teeth, and a metallic, metallic taste instantly filled the air between their lips and teeth.
Milo groaned and tried to struggle, but Blaze pinned him to the wall with his other hand. Blaze had one hand around his neck and the other behind him, pressing against his lower back. His strength was terrifying; it was as if he wanted to strangle him.
Milo sensed Blaise's pain amidst this violence.
Even though Blaze hadn't said a word, even though he was now begging Blaze to be lenient with him even for breathing, he could still sense that Blaze was in a lowly position, so low that even a plea seemed extremely servile.
In the midst of the intense struggle, it felt as if something warm landed on his cheek.
They are tears.
Milo froze, his heart beginning to pound uncontrollably in his chest.
Blaze jerked back, his head bowed, his lips stained with Milo's blood.
Milo's chest heaved violently.
Blaze turned away without looking at Milo again. He abruptly pulled back the curtains, and blinding light flooded the dim room. His figure flashed and quickly disappeared outside the window.
Milo leaned against the cold wall, his bound hands somehow untied. Blood trickled from his lips as he stared blankly at the open window.
A strong draft rushed in, lifting the gauze curtains high like fluttering white banners.
Outside the villa, Jesse, who had been lurking in the shadows, suddenly tensed up. He clearly heard the sound of a window being violently pushed open, followed by a tall, swift figure leaping out of a second-floor window and disappearing into the greenery of the villa area in the blink of an eye.
Jesse's alarm bells rang. Without hesitation, he drew his gun and deftly approached the villa's front door. After listening intently for a moment, he heard only deathly silence. Jesse pried open the unlocked door, gripped his sidearm tightly in his right hand, and slipped into the chaotic main hall.
The scene before him made him anxious.
The expensive carpet was covered with spilled water stains, shards of glass, messy footprints, and unidentified stains.
Jesse's palms were sweating. He could only rely on his instincts and training to move quietly, his gun barrel scanning every corner warily as he called out tentatively in a low voice, "Milo? Are you there? It's me, Jesse!"
Jesse cautiously crossed the living room, peering in the direction from which the wind was coming.
Just as I rounded the corner leading to the living room, a barefoot figure appeared at the end of the corridor.
It's Milo.
His hands hung at his sides, with obvious signs of binding on his wrists. The glaring light from the floor-to-ceiling windows outlined his somewhat thin figure, and a striking scarlet dot on his lips stood out.
Jesse immediately lowered his gun, strode forward, and cautiously looked around: "How are you?"
Milo's face was expressionless. He raised his hand to wipe the blood from his lips, his movements somewhat numb: "No need to look anymore, he's gone."
Jesse followed his gaze to the wide-open window, the sheer curtains fluttering in the wind. For a moment, Jesse was at a loss for words.
After a brief silence, Jesse quickly composed himself. He wasn't there to comfort him; he had more important matters to attend to. He didn't press for details, but simply took a sealed pillbox from his bag and handed it to him: "The withdrawal symptoms will get worse and worse. I know you need this. I got it secretly; it won't be traced back to you."
Milo's gaze finally focused on the medicine box, and he silently took it: "Time is running out."
"What's the meaning?"
"Green Contract's legal team will initiate litigation proceedings regarding the ownership of the bio-based drug patent. The pharmaceutical factory in Gangu will soon receive an injunction notice from the court. I'm going to take on them."
Jesse fell into a long silence, and in that silence, he understood his decision. Jesse looked up again and said, "Milo, cooperate with the police."
Milo frowned slightly.
Jesse, however, had already thought it through: "This is no longer just about you; it involves medical corruption and transnational murder. This is not something you can solve alone."
Milo's gaze shifted to Jesse, a desperate madness in his eyes: "The police can't help me."
“I can help!” Jesse said firmly. “I assure you, I will reopen the Green family case.” He grasped Milo’s hand. “No matter what, you are not alone.”
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