Tongue piercing
The cold object touched his skin and rubbed back and forth, pulling at his face painfully.
Milo belatedly realized that Blaze had taken a wet wipe and was wiping the filthy bloodstains off his face.
Milo let him do as he pleased until the car gradually moved away from the edge of the world that had almost cost him his life. Only then did he belatedly realize that he had survived a crisis of trust.
The sun had fully risen and we were back on the main road.
Blaise drove his van into a junkyard, swapped it for a used sedan with license plates, and leisurely drove toward the departure area of Wudong Port.
Milo remained silent throughout, saying nothing and asking no questions.
The car finally stopped and circled back to the same spot.
Church Bar.
Upon entering, the interior was strictly darkened, with an antique-style kerosene lamp on each table. The booths were almost entirely filled with people still hungover, piled haphazardly together.
There was only one young bartender on the counter, yawning as he wiped the glasses. He was clearly surprised to have a customer at this hour. Just as he was about to speak, he seemed to recognize Blaise's face and knowingly took a bottle of pre-stored liquor from the shelf.
Blaise took it and went straight to the booth in the back room.
Milo followed, and his pitiful-looking handsome face startled the bartender.
After wading through a pile of bottles and jars, Milo didn't pay much attention to the young people who were getting high with their breathing, and found a clean spot to sit down.
Blaise, now seated, uncorked the bottle, releasing a strong, spicy aroma of alcohol.
Seeing Milo standing a good distance away, Blaze patted the seat next to him.
Milo reluctantly shifted his position and sat down next to Blaise.
After that frantic, love-struck car chase, Blaze seemed to have vented all his bad mood, and he reverted to his deadpan expression.
Every time Milo saw that face, he felt that the man was secretly plotting something bad and was about to use it on him.
Was this the same situation where the last stuntman couldn't continue and ran away?
A glass of strong liquor was pushed in front of Milo.
Milo pursed his lips and looked at Blaise: "Is this for me to drink?"
Blaise nodded.
The rim of the cup touched his lips, but Blaise suddenly stopped his wrist for some reason.
Milo forced a fawning smile: "Should I drink it or not?"
Blaise's eyes flickered, and he released his grip.
The small wine glass was emptied, and Milo choked on the spiciness.
Blaze just stared at him blankly, and after a moment, without warning, he pulled open Milo's collar and looked inside.
Milo really wanted to yell at the man who had forcibly taken her, but then she thought, he wasn't exactly a respectable man either. And then she realized that he had already seen her naked in the pigeon coop, so it wasn't worth making a fuss about her being pulled down by the collar.
Upon seeing that patch of normal, clean white skin, Blaze finally let go, his face turning even paler.
It was an expected result, but he still couldn't help but want to verify it.
Blaze tried to suppress his emotions, and almost the entire remaining half bottle of wine went down his throat. The lingering smell of blood still lingered on his fingertips and the corners of his clothes. This smell was like a ghost, reminding him that he was still in reality and should not even think about escaping.
Seeing Milo intently flipping through the drinks menu, Blaze reached out and tried to touch his cheek, but Milo instinctively flinched away.
Noticing Milo's reaction, Blaze's hand froze in mid-air.
Milo thought for a moment and decided not to back down.
Blaze continued, gently wiping away a scab from his face.
That face is too fragile. Don't even mention two punches; a single slap would be enough to leave it in a terrible state. Milo guessed he was already disfigured. If his only valuable asset, his face, was ruined, his value would probably be halved.
Dim lighting filled the booth, where Milo, his face covered in wounds, hung his head, his black hair appearing frizzy in the light. He flipped through the drink menu on the table as if nothing was wrong, fiddling with it back and forth, seemingly torn between craft wheat beer and citrus liqueur.
This appearance makes one wonder if it's heartless or cold-blooded.
Blaise reached out, his large, long hand passing through Milo's sideburns to cup his cheek.
This face was like a fragile porcelain piece in his hands.
Blaze gently brushed his fingertips across the red and swollen area, intentionally loosening his grip.
Milo sensed something was amiss, but he did not refuse.
That was a very strange kiss.
The first scent was the spiciness of the liquor, followed by the warmth of their lips meeting. Blaze's tongue gently pried open Milo's tightly closed teeth, the soft tip of his tongue carrying a cold, foreign object sliding in unexpectedly, causing Milo's heart to tremble.
He even has a tongue piercing.
The two studded beads rolled over Milo's lips and tongue, the increasing force mixed with an irresistible plunder and invasion, as if his whole body would be swallowed up by this kiss.
When it was over, Milo didn't say anything. Just now, he had clearly felt the strong heartbeat in Blaise's chest.
After a long pause, Milo said sullenly, "I've never seen a tongue piercing before."
Blaise, who had been silent, turned his head to the side, pointed at him with his index finger, pushed his right palm outward to the left, and then stretched his left palm upward, quickly slicing his right palm across his left palm, and then his palms suddenly flipped outward and opened, the movements were crisp and decisive.
It was a set of somewhat clumsy sign language gestures, roughly meaning that he should not push his luck.
Milo was shocked: "You went to learn sign language? When?"
He no longer needs to decipher this person's unique language system.
But Milo quickly realized that this person already knew basic sign language, but was still betting haphazardly and continuing to communicate with him via voice on his phone, presumably with the intention of making things difficult for him.
When faced with Milo's question, Blaise simply remained silent with a cold expression.
Milo corrected Blaze's mistake and taught him the correct gestures again.
Blaze grabbed Milo's hand and gave him a warning look.
Milo then understood. Beginners shouldn't have their enthusiasm dampened. He stared intently at Blaise's mouth. He was genuinely curious how someone like Blaise could have even considered getting a tongue piercing.
This probing look naturally caught Blaise's eye.
Blaise, who had been determined to refuse, suddenly changed his mind. He opened his lips and stuck out his tongue.
Two parallel beads, quite large, pierced horizontally across the tip of the tongue, resembling a pair of silver snake eyes. The pink tip of the tongue trembled slightly, causing the two beads to undulate gently. It's said to be the most painful of all tongue piercing methods, and only those with a pain-fetishistic masochistic tendency would opt for this.
A strange thought inexplicably popped into Milo's head. He felt that Blaise exuded a restrained eroticism, but once the valve was opened, it would be like a gas explosion.
If such a fierce person were ever tamed, would he also be in the midst of a passionate French kiss, his eyes welling up with tears from the pain of being bitten on the tongue, wanting to stop but unable to speak?
Milo's mind raced, but Blaise was completely unaware.
Blaze took an object out of his pocket and placed it in Milo's hand.
Milo looked down and saw that it was the key to the pigeon coop.
Blaise actually gave him the key to his hideout?
Blaise didn't say anything more. He took the drinks menu and walked to the bar.
In no time, the fruit wine that Milo had just looked at was laid out on the table in abundance.
Milo was troubled, but he vaguely realized that Blaise was expressing his friendliness to him in some way.
A glass straw was inserted into the cup, and Milo took a sip of each one.
Before any comments could be made, the doors of the Church Bar were pushed open, and excessive sunlight shone in, causing everyone to briefly lose their sight.
"stand up."
Before he could see again, Milo heard an angry voice.
It's Miles.
He hadn't changed his clothes; he was still wearing the same outfit as last night, and he looked a bit tired. It seemed Miles had heard about the raid on the hilltop villa. Milo wasn't sure if Miles was there to interrogate him, so he glanced at Blaise's expression and slowly stood up.
Before Milo could even step out of the booth, Blaze grabbed his wrist, preventing him from moving.
The bartender peeked out to watch the show.
"Let go," Miles said again, but his voice was soft.
Milo stood frozen in place.
But Blaze actually let go of her hand, and then he pointed his index finger at Milo, his long fingers moving.
Perhaps because he was new to sign language, Blaise wasn't used to expressing his tone with facial expressions, so all his movements were cold and dry.
Milo, however, understood perfectly. He knew that Blaze was asking him whether he was now with Miles.
His attitude suggested that he didn't consider Milo a thing, which made it seem like he didn't care about fighting over a second-hand item at all.
Milo remained silent.
Miles also noticed the problem, but he also chose to ignore it.
"You'd better come up with an explanation for what happened today. You cut off the cargo route without authorization in the name of the Dale Group. Cargo ships coming from the south will be blocked for at least three months. They will come after you for this loss sooner or later."
Blaise was unable to speak, Milo dared not speak, and only Miles' voice could be heard in the room.
"This is my last reminder to you. Tate Daller is dead. No one in Wudong Port can protect you. You can continue to do whatever you want, but there's one thing: don't get involved with the Daller Group."
*
In silence, Miles personally drove Milo back to the Zhangtai Villa.
Miles reached out and pinched Milo's pitiful face, looking him up and down. "You followed him all this way because of what I asked you to do?"
Milo paused slightly, then went along with it and didn't deny it.
Who attacked you?
When it came to matters of life and death, Milo became more talkative: "Steven. He had someone punch me twice, almost tearing my scalp off, and he even tried to shoot me."
"He didn't stop him?"
Milo believes that the "he" Miles is referring to is Blaise.
"It's a miracle he didn't gang up on me; that guy's definitely got something wrong with his head," Milo said dejectedly. "This undercover job is really tough."
“You shouldn’t be messing with the police.” Miles’s voice was muffled. “Tell me, what information did you gather undercover?”
Milo reported truthfully: "Steven brought out a large freezer, Blaze blocked him, took the freezer, and then disposed of everything inside."
“I know that.”
Milo thought for a moment and asked, "Are you also in this business?"
Miles pulled out a box of ointment and said slowly, "If I said yes, were you planning to have your police friend arrest me too?"
When he mentioned Jesse, Milo's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly shook his head, appearing absolutely loyal.
“Do you think that just because I don’t care about you, I don’t know anything?” Miles said gently. “I won’t interfere with your friendships, but don’t treat me like a fool.”
Milos's head was pounded like garlic.
“Consider this beating a lesson learned,” Miles said as he applied ointment to his wound. “But if he dares to do it again, I’ll get revenge for you, just like I did this time. I’ll let you figure out how to punish him.”
Are you serious?
"real."
"Then take a knife and stab him like a sieve, the kind that lets in the air."
Miles smiled and said, "I didn't realize you had this kind of guts."
After a long pause, Milo suddenly asked, "I've noticed that Blaze actually listens to you a little?"
“It’s just a show. The person who can truly make him obey may not have a good ending.” Miles finished applying the ointment and took out a tissue to wipe his fingertips. “I thought you would ask me directly what his relationship is with me and the Daller family.”
Milo lowered his eyes and mumbled, "If I ask, you'll probably be unhappy."
“Lift your face up,” Miles said in a very soft voice.
Milo looked up, and Miles' eyes were calm, as if he could see right through Milo's heart.
“How do you know I won’t tell you if you don’t ask?” Miles reached out and stroked Milo’s cheek. “You always overthink things.”
As he spoke, Miles' voice suddenly softened considerably: "Alright, go take a shower."
Milo looked up and glanced out the window.
It was already broad daylight, which was illogical.
Miles slowly stood up and stood in front of Milo, gently lifting his chin: "It seems like it's been a while since I've seen you."
Milo then understood.
He went into the bathroom, and after about ten minutes, he finished showering and was clean all over again, then lay down on the bed.
Even though my face is injured, it doesn't stop me from doing other things.
The bluish stubble pricked the wound, causing Milo a slight pain, but he kept his mouth tightly shut and lay there as always, quietly waiting for it to end.
"Do you know where the best church in the country is?" In his dazed state, Milo's consciousness had already drifted far away. Miles suddenly spoke without warning, answering his own question, "In Wanyang. Missionaries traveled across the ocean to preach on the first island they set foot on. The cathedral was built there. It's a place very different from Wudong Port."
Milo didn't speak; his throat was dry and hoarse.
"The Church of St. Seville is the most famous building in Wanyang. My coming-of-age ceremony was held there."
The long-lost pain coursed through his body, and Miles got down to business, suddenly losing control of his strength, unusually accompanied by emotion.
“But it was on my coming-of-age ceremony that I found out I had a seven-year-old brother. Now, do you understand?” Miles suddenly reached out and grabbed Milo’s nape, pulling his face to the side. He leaned down and whispered in Milo’s ear, his breathing heavy. “He and I share the same father.”
Milo gripped the sheets, enduring the excruciating pain. Before he could even speak, his head was pressed down and buried in the goose-down pillow.
Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, Milo saw his own face, and his eyes instantly filled with boundless disgust.
*
As soon as Milo got out of Harold's car, he called Jesse to let her know he was safe.
During the time he was out of contact, Jesse didn't send him any random messages or make any random calls for his safety, but Milo saw the follow-up news in a news briefing.
Police temporarily sealed off the hilltop villa after receiving a tip from the public, but the result was that a popular celebrity was involved in prostitution with multiple partners, and the scandalous news easily covered up the criminal facts.
He had thought that with Jesse, who was actually involved, the outcome would be different.
Milo swayed his tired and heavy body as he walked into the barbecue stall. It was only evening, and the sky was still bright. The restaurant had not officially opened yet, and Lao Ruan was just standing at the door tidying up the tables.
"Is there anything to eat?" Milo sat down. "Anything is fine."
"Yes." Old Ruan wiped his hands, turned on the stove, and in less than fifteen minutes, a bowl of plain noodles was ready.
Milo winced in pain from the burns, the wounds on his face causing him considerable discomfort.
Old Ruan remained silent as he skewered the food. People came and went, but no one spared him a glance.
"Is he alright?" Milo looked up, his hands still busy with their work.
"He was lucky. He was pulled off the bed as soon as he lay down, saving one of his kidneys." Old Ruan said this before looking at Milo's face. "That bastard gambled like he was going to die. He brought it on himself. It wasn't worth you taking such a big risk to save him."
"I'm already so sorry for dragging you into this," Milo said, stirring the noodles. "He's your only son, I can't let you be left without anyone to take care of you." Milo looked like he was afraid of being pestered. "Don't wait for me, okay?"
Old Ruan was silent for a long time before finally speaking: "I went for a check-up a few days ago, and the doctor said it's already in the late stage, and I only have a year left. If I can't get there in time one day, you—" He couldn't finish his sentence, "Have you thought about what to do after that?"
In the abandoned courier station, he received Milo's message and rushed there in time, but could only lie in wait in the darkness, watching helplessly as those beasts tormented Milo. He could only fire his gun to protect her when her life was hanging by a thread. Bullets were scarce, and his life was even more precarious; he could no longer protect Milo for much longer.
“This time it was unavoidable, don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Milo poked at the bowl very seriously.
Old Ruan was a little upset: "Once you've taken the job, you have to see it through to the end. My life is still yours until I die, so don't feel like you owe me anything. I just feel that what you're going to do is too difficult and too dangerous."
"The more you want, the riskier you take; that's always been the case. But if you bet everything, how much worse could the outcome be compared to what's happening now? If you're willing to gamble, you have to accept the consequences. You can't have everything, don't you agree?"
As the last bit of noodles in the bowl was gone, my phone, with its cracked screen, vibrated. It was a call from Jesse.
Milo didn't have time to look. He seemed to remember something and turned to Lao Ruan, saying, "Haven't you been to the bar in a while? One of the bartenders should recognize me, the one with the red spiky hair. Go and deal with him, and remember to give him a good severance package. I'll try not to go there anymore, so I'll have to trouble you to manage it. Also, don't let those drug addicts in anymore. Oh, and remember to have them get a new batch of liquor."
Every drink Blaze ordered for him was bad.
Old Ruan agreed to everything, just as he always had.
Milo answered the phone.
"Milo, where are you?" Jesse's voice trembled with anxiety.
"I'm at a restaurant. Do you want me to get you some takeout?" Milo asked in a lighthearted tone. "My little shop isn't finished being renovated yet, so I'll have to stay at your place tonight."
Ignoring his words, Jesse asked urgently, "Do you remember the informant I told you about?"
Milo didn't react for a moment, then laughed and said, "Oh, my undercover predecessor. What, you found him? Are you trying to give retired employees a new job?"
Jesse's tone carried an undeniable sense of panic.
"He died. He died in his first month undercover. His body was sealed in a cement pile at the construction site, which is why we thought he was missing."
Milo fell silent.
“Once he discovers you’re lying to him, he will kill you without hesitation.”
"And remember, don't agree to go undercover!" Jesse's voice was unusually urgent. "Run! They've found you."
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