Chapter 251 Let’s talk first.
At an altitude of ten thousand meters, the air pressure in the cabin of the Boeing 787 fluctuated slightly, emitting a low humming sound.
Old Master Mo's skinny fingers tightly gripped the armrest, his knuckles turning white, and his chest seemed to be gripped by an invisible hand, causing a slight sting in every breath.
Under his sunken eye sockets, his cloudy pupils shrank slightly, and fine beads of sweat had already seeped out of his forehead.
"Master, are you okay?" Doctor Chen immediately leaned over, his voice filled with undisguised worry.
Old Master Mo waved his hand, and with his other hand, trembling, he took out a gilded medicine bottle from the inner pocket of his Zhongshan suit.
The bottle glowed coldly under the cabin ceiling light, and was engraved with an intricate family crest.
When he unscrewed the bottle cap, his knuckles made a slight crackling sound, and when he poured out two white pills, the blue veins on the back of his hand bulged like dead vines.
The pill fell into my palm with a slight sound.
The old man didn't drink any water and swallowed the pills dry.
The bitter taste exploded in his mouth, spreading along the root of his tongue to the depths of his throat, making him frown.
"Have some water first," Dr. Chen said softly, handing her some warm water. "At high altitudes, the strain on your heart increases."
Mr. Mo didn't answer, but just shook his head slowly.
His gaze passed Dr. Chen and fell on Mo Shian who was sitting opposite him.
The young man was staring at the rolling sea of clouds outside the porthole, holding a glass of amber whiskey between his fingers. The ice cubes gently collided in the whiskey, making a crisp sound.
Mo Shian's profile looked particularly sharp under the dim light of the cabin, and his taut jawline was as clear as if it had been carved with a knife.
He was wearing a well-tailored black suit with his shirt slightly open at the collar.
"Drink less." The old man's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper. He tapped the ground with his cane, making a dull sound. "Zheng Zheng would be disgusted if she smelled the alcohol on you."
When Mo Shi'an heard this, a sarcastic arc appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He tilted his head back and drank the wine in the glass in one gulp. When his Adam's apple rolled, the burning sensation of the liquor burned from his throat all the way to his stomach, but he could not suppress the restlessness in his heart.
He put down his wine glass, and the glass hit the table with a crisp sound.
"She won't want to see me." Mo Shi'an whispered, with suppressed pain in his voice.
The cabin fell into a brief silence, with only the roar of the engine echoing in my ears.
Mo Shian didn't say anything else, but poured himself another glass of wine.
The wine swayed in the glass, reflecting tiny spots of light.
He stared at the spots of light for a long time, then raised his head and drank it again.
---
Tanxi Garden.
Yun Zheng's breathing gradually became steady, and her long eyelashes cast a small shadow under her eyes.
Outside the window, a bright moon hangs high in the sky. The cold moonlight shines through the gauze curtains, outlining mottled light and shadows on the floor.
Fu Linghe sat on the edge of the bed, and the pen made the last stroke on the document, and the friction between the pen tip and the paper made a slight rustling sound.
He closed the folder and his eyes fell on Yun Zheng's sleeping face.
Her lips were still a little pale, but the gloom between her brows had faded a lot.
Fu Linghe reached out and gently brushed away the loose hair on her forehead with his slender fingers, his movements were unspeakably gentle.
His fingertips rested briefly on her slightly cool skin, and he could feel her steady breathing.
The corners of Fu Linghe's mouth unconsciously rose slightly, but soon they were pursed into a straight line.
"Sleep well." He whispered, his voice low and gentle, as if he was afraid to disturb her dreams.
When he stood up, he moved so quietly that the mattress barely sank.
He picked up the suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, his fingertips pausing slightly at the cuffs.
There were still traces of Yun Zheng's tears there. Although they had dried up long ago, they left an imperceptible mark on the dark fabric.
Fu Linghe lowered his eyes and looked at the tear mark, and the light in his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses dimmed.
He remembered Yun Zheng crying in his arms, her trembling shoulders and silent tears.
At that moment, he felt for the first time what it meant to be powerless.
The corners of his lips tightened slightly, and then he turned and left, his leather shoes stepping on the carpet without making any sound.
As the door closed gently, the lock made a slight click, which was particularly clear in the silent corridor.
The light from the corridor cast a long shadow behind him, which kept changing shape as he moved.
Fu Linghe adjusted his cuffs as he walked, his movements graceful and precise.
His suit was well-tailored, with every line perfectly outlining his tall figure.
"Prepare the car," he whispered into the headset, his voice returning to its usual coldness. "Go to the airport."
Three simple words, yet they carried an unquestionable sense of command.
A respectful response came immediately from the other end of the headset: "Yes, Mr. Fu. The team is waiting downstairs."
Fu Linghe removed his headset and placed it in his suit pocket. The elevator door slowly opened before him, his stern face reflected in the mirror-like metal door.
He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the underground parking garage.
As the elevator descended, he adjusted his tie, his entire body exuding the aura of a superior, cold and uninhibited!
---
At Beijing International Airport, the apron is empty and quiet late at night.
Mo's private plane landed slowly, and the tires rubbing against the runway made a harsh sound, which was particularly harsh in the night sky.
After the plane stopped, the gangway was slowly lowered, making a dull thud when it touched the ground.
Old Master Mo walked down the gangway with a cane, his silver hair blowing in the night wind.
His steps were slow and firm, and every step seemed to take all his strength.
Doctor Chen followed closely behind, carrying a medicine box in his hand, and looking around vigilantly.
Mo Shian walked at the end, his right hand never leaving his waist.
The night breeze lifted the hem of his suit, revealing the pistol tucked into his waist.
His eyes were as sharp as an eagle, constantly scanning every corner of the tarmac, looking for possible threats.
"Pay attention and be careful of the Fu family!" Mo Shi'an ordered in a low voice.
His fingers subconsciously touched the holster at his waist, and his fingertips could feel the cold metal.
The old man didn't say anything, but just walked forward slowly.
The sound of the cane hitting the ground was particularly clear in the silent night, like some kind of countdown.
Just as they were about to step into the airport corridor, the surrounding lights suddenly lit up.
Dazzling beams of light were projected from all directions, illuminating their figures completely.
The light was so strong that it was almost impossible to open one's eyes, like a prey suddenly exposed under the spotlight.
Mo Shi'an's pupils shrank, and he suddenly raised his hand to block his eyes, while his other hand was already on the gun.
He could feel his heartbeat suddenly speeding up and his blood roaring in his ears.
Years of training have made him instinctively alert, with his muscles tense and ready to respond to emergencies at any time.
"How are you?" A deep voice came from the darkness, carrying an irresistible sense of oppression.
The sound was not loud, but it felt like it was hitting the eardrum directly, making people shudder.
Mo Shian narrowed his eyes and finally saw the figure at the end of the light source - Fu Linghe.
He stood next to a pure black Rolls-Royce, his slender figure outlined in the light, looking sharp and cold.
He was wearing a neat black suit with his tie tied meticulously, and his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses were as sharp as a knife.
The moonlight and the light intertwined on him, giving him a cold halo.
Behind him, dozens of bodyguards in black surrounded him silently, forming an impenetrable human wall.
These bodyguards are all burly and expressionless, like well-trained machines.
They stood in identical positions, their arms folded in front of them, ready for action.
Mo Shi'an's fingers slowly tightened, his knuckles turning white. He could feel beads of sweat on the back of his neck, which felt chilled by the night wind.
Fu Linghe just glanced at him indifferently, as if he was looking at an insignificant object.
Then, his gaze fell on Mr. Mo, and there was a bit of complicated emotions in his eyes.
"Master Mo," he said, his voice deep and calm, the calmness of a superior. "I think we should talk."
The night wind picked up a few fallen leaves, swirling in the air.
The roar of an airplane taking off could be heard in the distance, but no one present seemed to hear it.
The old man's fingers gripping the cane tightened slightly, and a hint of complexity flashed in his old eyes.
He straightened his hunched back, even though the movement caused a sharp pain in his chest.
"What do you mean, Mr. Fu?" he asked in a deep voice. Although his voice was hoarse, it still carried an authority that could not be ignored.
Fu Linghe's lips curled up slightly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
That smile was as cold as the sunshine in winter. It seemed warm, but in fact it had no warmth at all.
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