Passion
Blaze's expression turned cold. He wanted to remain calm and avoid falling into the other party's trap of provoking him, but he just couldn't tolerate one possibility—that Milo was having other affairs behind his back.
Blaze suddenly stood up, grabbed Milo from the bed with one hand like an iron clamp, strode over, swept the clutter off the table, and then slammed Milo down onto the table, shoving his legs apart.
The clinking of kitchen utensils as the body twisted and turned created a cacophony in the small space.
Milo felt a hand slip inside his pants. He wanted to return the kiss, just like on the cruise ship, to overwhelm Blaise with his initiative. But this time, Blaise seemed to have anticipated his every thought, grabbing his cheek with one hand and forcefully pressing him down.
While fumbling around, Milo suddenly grabbed a paring knife. A flash of cold light appeared, leaving a bloody gash on Blaise's arm and also cutting his own palm.
Blaze gestured: "Not enough? Go harder." Blaze twisted Milo's wrist, and Milo had to let go with all his might. The paring knife fell to the ground, and the only sound in the room was heavy breathing.
Blaze leaned down and bit Milo's soft neck, pulling Milo out of control, leaving him only able to breathe with his head tilted back.
In the struggle, Milo noticed the wound left from when he stabbed him last time. The pink scab on his upper arm was inconspicuous against the skin full of old wounds, yet it inexplicably exuded a strong sense of lust.
Blaze shoved Milo down, licked away the blood seeping from his palm, and as the tongue stud rolled over, he clearly felt the barely perceptible tremor of Milo's body.
That tiny tremor was like an electric current, instantly striking Brez's brain and stirring up a primal, scalding desire within him.
Blaze straightened up, looking down as if he was desperately suppressing something. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose onto Milo's waist, spreading all the way down to his navel.
Milo trembled slightly.
Blaze was completely mesmerized. He grabbed Milo's wrists with one hand, pulled them over his head, and kissed him deeply, as if trying to devour all of Milo's resistance.
After a long while, Blaze finally released Milo, his eyes burning with a fierce possessiveness, and gestured: You're not going anywhere.
Milo's face was flushed and his body was soaked with sweat, but at this moment he showed a very strange smile.
"Don't you love Theo Green so much? Then what you're doing now, isn't that betraying him? Or is the love you talk about just this cheap?"
Blaze stood there stunned. His eyes flickered, his reason returned, and he shakily let go of her hand.
With a creak, the door slowly opened, letting in a ray of light.
The person standing at the door was so startled by the sight inside that he turned his back and took a long time to speak: "The old gentleman has come to urge you two."
Blaise got up, walked to the pool, and splashed a handful of cold water on his face to calm his agitated mood.
Milo, who had been pinned to the table, slowly got up, his chest still heaving violently. He kept his head down, and no one could see the panic on his face. For a fleeting moment, he had actually felt his body react for a split second.
Those rough treatments were like a potent drug, stirring up the pain he was desperately suppressing. It seemed that madness could be a way to relieve stress... and that... was something he absolutely could not allow to happen.
Milo clenched his fists tightly, forcing himself to forget.
Blaze strode out the door, no longer looking at him, and threw a piece of clothing at him. Just before reaching the door, he suddenly turned around and coldly gestured: "Thank goodness, you're not him."
The conversation took place in the same small house as last time, but this time Steven did not show up.
Blaze entered first, his face grim. He sat opposite Miles, his jaw clenched, trying to control the turmoil in his chest. Milo followed, and upon seeing him, Sigon waved cheerfully, "Come in, we were just about to talk about you."
"You've had a good time in Gangu, haven't you? I've discussed it with your boss, and you'll be staying here a little longer. If you need anything, just let me know."
Milo sat silently in his seat.
Hesei, who had just witnessed the two of them, didn't dare to breathe loudly, only glancing at Milo repeatedly. Nona couldn't help but raise the corners of her lips when she heard Sigon's words. She looked at Milo, but didn't see any emotional fluctuation from him; he seemed to have resigned himself to his fate.
Just as Sigon was about to speak, Blaze suddenly made a move. He stretched out his right palm and pushed it to the left, then pointed his left index finger at Milo and waved his right hand: Let him go.
Xigong's smile froze on his face in an instant. He narrowed his eyes and said unhappily, "You've learned sign language? What, are you planning to be a useless person for the rest of your life?"
The atmosphere on the field suddenly became tense.
Milo suddenly realized that something he had never understood before was now answered.
It's extremely rare for someone who has been deaf and mute for six years to not learn sign language. That likely means he's been unable to communicate with normal people for a long time. Is it because he himself is unwilling to learn, or is someone behind the scenes encouraging him, happy to see him in a completely isolated environment?
Sigon glanced at Nona, who immediately translated the meaning of Blaise's gesture.
Sigon frowned and glanced at Blaise, his eyes already showing displeasure and warning.
Chachai, standing behind Sigon, gave him a wink, and Nonai tugged at Blaise's sleeve, but couldn't get him to sit down.
Several people in casual clothes who were standing outside the door walked in, but before they could reach Milo, they were frozen in place by a glare from Blaise.
Blaze slammed the gun off his waist onto the table and gestured: I said, let him go!
This sudden attack stunned everyone present, especially the group from Gan Valley, with Nonai translating for Xigong under pressure.
Everyone present could feel the tense atmosphere on the table, ready to explode at any moment. Finally, Sigon pressed the black gun, turned it back to Blaise with perfect accuracy, and said calmly, "You've grown up. You've learned to lose your temper."
Milo held his breath, his gaze meeting Blaze's, but Blaze immediately looked away.
Sigon looked at Miles and said, "Mr. Dale, I won't see you off. Tomorrow, I'll arrange for you to return to the Rainforest Port. Everything will be taken care of for you and your secretary."
Miles nodded, put his arm around Milo, patted him on the shoulder, and gestured for him to get up.
Before they had taken more than a few steps, they heard Sigon suddenly switch to the local language and say something. As soon as he finished speaking, Nonai and Chatchai got up and walked out with serious expressions.
As everyone gradually left the house, Chatchai frowned, turned around and closed the door. The moment he closed the door, a look of reluctance appeared in his eyes.
Through a crack in the door, Milo vaguely saw someone hand him a palm rope whip with a dark brown sheen. The water-soaked fibers were swollen and heavy, like a damp python that had been coiled up for a long time, hanging heavily in his palm. The knots were hardened by the dampness, and when it was pulled taut, the fibers could be heard rustling as they were squeezed together, and the palm leaf strands at the end burst open with a rustling sound. Soon, the sound of whipping echoed from inside the door, each strike landing solidly on flesh.
Miles' brow relaxed: "The weather's nice today, looks like it's not going to rain."
Milo looked up and saw the vast expanse of azure sky with drifting white clouds.
Nonai stepped forward and said quietly, "Mr. Milo, do you remember? I told you. When he was seven years old, after returning from Wanyang, he insisted on converting to Christianity. That time, because of Theo Green, he was beaten so badly that he couldn't get out of bed. This time, he's not a stupid child anymore, but for you, the old man got so angry that he had to resort to this method. It really is crazy."
Chatchai grabbed Nonae's arm, signaling her to stop talking. But as he passed Milo, a hint of displeasure flashed in Chatchai's eyes.
Harold silently stepped forward, and Miles gestured for him to be quiet before turning to Milo and saying, "Your friend has been waiting for you for days; he won't leave until he sees you."
Milo realized that Miles was talking about Yuuma, so he walked towards Miles.
Miles put his arm around Milo's shoulder and said in a low voice from above, "You've done a better job as an undercover agent than I expected. It seems he's really fallen for you."
Milo listened quietly for a long time, then looked up with a pure smile: "He did it voluntarily."
Miles looked at Milo's face and nodded. "No, you should say he brought it on himself." Miles whispered in Milo's ear, "Because I know you'll never like him."
Milo smiled.
*
As night fell, the bright moon hung high in the sky.
A foot suddenly stomped and broke the shimmering puddle of water.
Milo stumbled out of the house and followed the route he remembered to the direction of the Jade Belt River. The moon hanging in the sky was so bright that it seemed to be pressing down on him. The humid mudflats were full of flying mosquitoes. He walked for almost half an hour without realizing it. Milo wiped the sweat from his face and finally saw the small boat drifting leisurely on the Jade Belt River.
On the riverbank stands a huge strangler fig tree with slanted leaves. Underneath the tree is a small hut where travelers occasionally visit to take shelter from the rain. This time, it was nearly midnight, and only a few people were still resting in the hut.
"It's time to set off," the boatman reminded them at the opportune moment.
Steven kept glancing at his watch, his brow furrowed, and he kept looking toward the riverbank, muttering, "Wait a little longer."
The rainforest nights are the most mosquito-infested. A feast was held on the banks of the Jade Belt River last night, and the lingering smell of food attracted a large swarm of plump mosquitoes from the primeval rainforest. The small boat stranded beside the reeds was soon swarmed by mosquitoes, and the sound of their slapping against the water echoed incessantly.
Milo wiped the water off his face, enduring the mosquitoes crawling on his legs and arms, sucking his blood.
Another sudden downpour began, and the boatman jumped off the boat first. Steven had no choice but to follow him off the boat to take shelter from the rain. The two of them went into the small wooden house next to the Jade Belt River, one after the other.
The empty boat, its paint peeling and worn, swayed gently with the rising tide.
Milo immediately dove into the river. Feeling his way along the hull, he quickly located the fuel filler. He pulled out the booster pump hidden in his pocket and connected it to the fishing boat's fuel line. The milky-white gel snaked into the line, producing a muffled sound from the cabin, followed by a teeth-grinding metallic scraping noise. The gel expanded rapidly, instantly clogging the fuel injectors and carburetor.
As the bubbles continued to rise, Milo gradually felt the discomfort of lack of oxygen.
With a rustling sound, the two people who had been sheltering from the rain in the hut came out again.
Milo immediately held his breath, and his head, which was about to surface, sank even further.
The ship sank slightly as Steven carried his luggage onto the ship.
Are we still waiting?
Steven chuckled self-deprecatingly, "I'm not waiting anymore, let's go."
The boatman, puzzled, spun the fuel engine for a long time before finally saying, "Strange, it seems like the pipes are clogged."
The engine sputtered twice and then completely stalled.
The fisherman said with a headache, "The boat can't sail."
Steven loosened his tie, kicked a few times, and then seemed to suddenly have a change of heart: "Fine, I might as well leave tomorrow."
Milo calculated the time, then suddenly poked his head out of the river, coughing incessantly. The smell of humus filled his nostrils. He struggled to climb ashore, collapsed on the riverbank, and closed his eyes to catch his breath.
After feeling his soul return to his body, Milo stood up and suddenly felt a chill run down the back of his neck. He turned around uncertainly.
Lightning cleaved through the clouds, but Milo remained frozen in place, refusing to move.
The person behind him slowly walked forward, and he sighed.
Milo looked at the person in front of him, but he didn't feel relieved at all.
From a distance, Chatchai tossed a waterproof bag to Milo: "If you were a smart man, you should have gotten on the boat and run away today. But you're lucky you were smart enough not to go with Steven Thornton. Don't come back. This isn't a place for you."
Milo's fingers stiffened, and he refused to take the waterproof bag. Seeing this, Chatchai added, "Brazy prepared this for you. When the rainy season comes here, outsiders will suffer because they are not used to it. There are sprays and ointments that you may need inside."
Milo frowned.
Chatchai glanced back and asked, "Is there anything else you want to say to him?"
In the darkness, only the noisy chirping of cicadas could be heard. On the vast rainforest plains, he could only see Chatchai. Blaise could be hiding anywhere in the darkness, silently observing his expression and movements.
Milo looked at Chatchai and answered decisively, "No. I have nothing to say to him."
Milo resolutely strode forward, dragging his muddy steps forward one by one.
He knew that he and Blaise were far from reaching the point where it was time to end things.
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