Chapter 65 Bloody Gift
Bangkok, Paragon Department Store, Siam Square. Ruan Xingchen stood in front of a jewelry store's glass case, her fingertips gently tapping a black diamond cufflink—like Mo Xiaohan's eyes, dark and cold, yet at certain moments, igniting a scorching light for her.
"Can this model be engraved?" she asked, looking up.
The clerk smiled attentively: "Of course, what do you want engraved?"
Ruan Xingchen's lips curved slightly: "To My King."
It was three days before Mo Xiaohan's birthday—his first birthday since they were together. She wanted to give him a surprise, so she refused his company and only brought a few bodyguards.
"Madam, it's time to go back." The bodyguard reminded in a low voice, "Boss has asked for your location three times."
Ruan Xingchen glanced at his watch and chuckled, "Wait five more minutes, the last thing."
She turned and walked into the men's clothing store next door, her fingertips running over a silk tie - the pattern and color were exactly the same as the one she had held to declare her sovereignty that day on the high seas.
On the way back, as the convoy had just turned into Sukhumvit Soi 23, three unlicensed off-road vehicles suddenly rushed out from the fork in the road, and the escort vehicle in the front instantly had a tire burst and lost control.
"Madam, bow your head!"
"Bang!"
The bodyguard had barely uttered a cry when a bullet shattered the car window, creating a spiderweb of cracks in the bulletproof glass. Ruan Xingchen, pinned to the ground beneath the seat, could hear the fierce exchange of gunfire outside.
Ten minutes later, the gunfire stopped.
When the bodyguard opened the car door, several attackers were lying on the ground. The only survivor was forced to kneel on the side of the road, with blood oozing from his forehead.
"Who sent you?" the bodyguard asked sternly.
The captive looked up, his eyes fixed on Xingchen: "So the rumors are true... Mo Xiaohan really does have a canary."
Ruan Xingchen clenched the shopping bag in his hand.
In the dungeon of the manor, the smell of blood mixed with the smell of disinfectant was nauseating. The attacker, who was hung by chains, was no longer in human form. The bones of his left hand were crushed one by one, and his right eye was so swollen that he could not open it.
Mo Xiaohan stood in the shadows, his black suit making his figure look slender and cold. The silver ring on his left ring finger exuded a chilling aura, while his right hand rested casually on Ruan Xingchen's waist, as if he was enjoying a wonderful performance that was about to begin.
"Today I'll teach you my second lesson—" He lowered his head, his thin lips almost touching her earlobe, "Ask him three questions."
His breath burned like the flames of hell. "First, ask who's behind this. Second, ask the purpose of this action. Third, ask..." He placed the scalpel in her hand. "How many accomplices are left?"
Ruan Xingchen's fingertips trembled slightly, but she quickly regained her breath. She knew this was an unspoken rule—in his world, weakness was tantamount to seeking death.
She walked up to the prisoner and forced herself to look directly into his bloodshot eyes.
"Who sent you?" Her voice was soft but very clear.
The man grinned, blood foam oozing from the corner of his mouth: "My little beauty, why don't you tell me first, is Mo Xiaohan like this in bed..."
"Puff!"
The dull sound of the knife tip piercing his shoulder blade interrupted his dirty talk. Ruan Xingchen herself was stunned. She didn't expect that she would actually do it.
Mo Xiaohan grasped her trembling hands from behind and slowly twisted the knife handle with her. Amidst her shrill screams, he whispered in her ear, "If he says something to you, you stab him."
"To be soft on the enemy is to be cruel to yourself." He increased his strength, pushing her hand down. "Now, continue."
An hour later, all the information was finally extracted.
The Song family of Laos - one of the largest warlords in Southeast Asia, has a long-standing grudge against the Mo family. This time, they not only want to test her, but also want to take her as a hostage and force Mo Xiaohan to give up control of the Mekong River route.
"Well done." Mo Xiaohan wiped her bloody fingers with a wet towel, his movements as gentle as if he were handling fragile items. "But next time, you have to learn how to cut yourself."
Ruan Xingchen's stomach churned, but he bit his lip stubbornly and nodded: "...Yeah."
He suddenly picked her up and carried her sideways, heading straight for the bathroom.
Steam wrapped in moist heat filled the entire space. Mo Xiaohan's movements were ten times gentler than usual, and his fingertips caressed every inch of her tense muscles.
"Are you scared?" He held her earlobe in his mouth and gently rolled it with the tip of his tongue.
Ruan Xingchen shook her head, her wet hair sticking to her snow-white shoulders, water droplets sliding down her collarbone into her collar. "I just didn't expect...the Song family would set their sights on me."
"Because of the way you pulled my tie..." He chuckled and carried her to the sink. In the mist, the silver ring occasionally brushed against her legs, bringing a slight chill. "It's so tempting."
"Close your eyes." He ordered, but his words were so gentle that she choked. Ruan Xingchen climbed onto his shoulders and saw in the mirror through her hazy vision—
The blood-stained pure white and the violent tenderness intertwined into a blurred light in the water vapor.
Late at night, Mo Xiaohan stood in front of the holographic map in the study, where the territory of Laos was marked in dark red.
"Song family..." Mo Xiaohan turned the silver ring, murderous intent flashing in his eyes.
But now is not the time. General Song controls 30% of the smuggling routes along the Mekong River, and behind him are the arms routes to Europe. Any rash action will only alert the enemy.
But it will be soon, until they jump into the grave they have dug themselves.
At the same time, at the Song family villa in Laos.
Young Master Song played with the dagger, listening to the busy tone on the other end of the phone, and sneered: "It seems that Mo Xiaohan really treats that little lover as a treasure."
The butler whispered, "Should we send more people?"
"No rush." Young Master Song narrowed his eyes and looked at the Southeast Asian map on the wall. "Wait for the signal from that 'friend' in Europe..."
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